Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
Rafael
Watching Samantha sleep in my arms is the sweetest torture.
Her breathing is even and strong, her face relaxed. The shadows and gauntness smooth out from her face and her body fills out, losing the signs of the illness. With every passing moment, she looks more and more like the woman I remember meeting that first time.
The connection that should have been there from the beginning settles between us.
For ten fucking long months I’ve been reaching into emptiness, and now, finally, there’s an answer on the other end.
I should have known the moment she awoke, but it was pure luck that I came to check on her when I did.
Or maybe fate.
Time is irrelevant, as I hold her and catalogue the changes. Her transformation doesn’t seem to have any effect on her looks beyond fixing what was broken. That’s something I’m grateful for.
I don’t think she felt pain from my blood burning through her. At least I hope to hell she didn’t. I tried my best to weave compulsion and distraction into her mind to ease the start of the transformation.
My own transformation hurt like hell. Granted, I was beaten to a pulp at the time, and having one’s bones rearrange themselves would have probably been painful even without venom and blood coursing through my system.
Samantha’s brow furrows in her sleep, and I banish the dark thoughts. There’s no telling how the connection between us works until the change is complete, but she might sense something from me and I’m not willing to risk it.
She hates me enough as it is.
Her words rattle around in my mind and I can’t shake them, no matter how hard I try. She meant it. And she has every right to those feelings.
I’m not letting her go. I can’t. And even if I could, I won’t.
She’s mine.
The sooner she gets that through her head the better.
When it becomes clear that the initial changes are over, I reluctantly lay her down and make sure she’s resting comfortably. Her body will need to rest to finish the awakening. Usually, that takes a couple of days, but I don’t even dare to guess how long Samantha will take.
Or if everything turns out all right.
Ten months. There’s no precedent for a successful vampire awakening that took as long.
She was lucid and sharp as she woke, nothing amiss that I could see or sense, but worry gnaws at my insides. I’m addicted to seeing her chest rise and fall. In time, that pace will slow, but for now every inhale and exhale is precious.
It takes me a long while to get moving. After pulling a blanket over Samantha, I make my way upstairs and pull out my phone. I need to let Thea know.
“She woke,” I say as soon as she picks up.
“Oh, thank the Goddess and Moon,” she whispers fervently. “Was she—how was she?”
“Lucid. I can finally sense her. The connection formed after she had my blood.”
“Good,” she murmurs. “So, she’s sleeping now?”
“Yes. She drank long and hard. More than I’d thought, but the initial changes settled over her quickly.” I glance at the clock on the wall and blink. “Well, fuck.”
“What?”
“I guess quick is a relative term. It’s the next day.”
“Is that an unusual timeframe?” Thea asks, sounding wary, and I fully understand her trepidation, so I hurry to reassure her.
“No. In fact, it’s pretty normal for it to take that long. She should complete her transformation in another day or two.”
There’s a long silence on the line until Thea speaks, her tone strained. “It’s winter. I see her among spring flowers.”
“What are you saying?”
“Nothing, vampire.” Her tone returns to its usual snappishness. “The visions are not set in stone. They are fickle. Anything regarding Samantha has always been especially hazy. Don’t pester me, or I’ll hex you!”
“But you saw her.” It’s not a question, and relief is evident in my tone. “You finally saw her.”
“Yes,” she replies. “Call me when anything changes.”
“I will,” I say and hang up.
Outside, a soft flurry of snowflakes blankets the rose garden. Spring is a long way off. Sighing, I settle in to wait.
At least this time I can be sure she will wake up.