Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Rafael
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I floor the gas and tear through the driveway. The moment I cross into the mansion’s grounds, the dread intensifies. It started off small, a little irritation at the back of my head, and soon grew to a gnawing unease in my stomach.
The car slides, but I snarl and keep it on the road. Snow keeps falling in big flakes.
Samantha is awake.
And it’s not fucking spring yet. Not even close. I would have never left her home alone if I’d thought there was a chance of her awakening. After she took my blood, I waited three days. Then five, a week.
Nothing changed. Not in her, nor in Thea’s vision. It’s been a month, and there was no indication of her stirring.
Now she’s awake… and something feels wrong.
The bond between the maker and the new vampire can be volatile, but what I sense from Samantha makes no sense. I don’t want it to make sense.
She’s in pain.
I shouldn’t have left her alone. If someone found out about her… If someone hurt her…
Only hundreds of years of practicing control keep me from completely mangling the steering wheel in my grip. It takes way too long to reach the mansion. I have no care for the car when I take the curves of the road too fast and scrape the sides on branches.
I need to get to Samantha. Now.
Finally, I glimpse the mansion behind the trees and press on the gas even more. There’s nausea rolling in the pit of my stomach, fear like I’ve not felt in a long time. Everything looks undisturbed from the outside, but I can’t shake the feeling of danger.
Cursing under my breath at my shaking hands, I lose valuable time fumbling with the keys. Only the knowledge that the security system would shut me out without proper protocol keeps me from busting the locks.
Once I get past this door, I’ll kill anyone who has hurt her.
The scent of Samantha’s blood lingers in the air, faint but distinct.
As soon as I get the door open, the smell slaps me in the face.
There are broken pieces of wood all over the foyer floor and some of them have Samantha’s blood on them.
“Samantha!” I roar before my eyes fully register what I’m seeing. The door that leads down to the warded basement level is in pieces and from the angle it hangs, I can tell it was busted from the inside.
Impossible. That door should hold even me.
Drops of Samantha’s blood trail toward the side door that leads to the kitchen and staff quarters. I follow it and my world stops when I reach the kitchen.
“Samantha!” I drop next to her convulsing body. There’s mess on the floor and blood pooling around her. “Samantha,” I call again as I gather her in my arms and try to hold her still. Between shakes, she’s dry heaving, and her eyes are completely glazed over in pain.
“Raf—” Her voice is barely a whisper and it cuts short when yet another convulsion takes over her. It’s like a monstrous beast, taking hold of her and rattling her bones. She doesn’t scream in pain, but I’m not sure if it is because her voice is already gone or if she’s holding the shrieks back.
I risk losing my hold of her enough to bite at my own wrist and push it to her lips. As the blood fills her mouth, her eyes open and she drinks in great big gulps, pulling more and more of my blood on pure instinct.
After a while, she tries to stop, but I keep my wrist firmly over her mouth.
“No, sweetheart, you need to drink more,” I tell her when she tries to wrench her head away.
Her eyes are blazing now, angry and fierce.
Relief floods me at the clarity in them.
She bites into my arm, and from the brief shock flitting over her face, I know she forgot her fangs.
Even with the fresh blood coating her tongue, she tries to pull back from her bite.
Frowning, I hold her tighter. “Drink,” I snap, my patience gone. I need to make sure she is all right and safe and her struggling is not helping matters.
I have no idea what happened here.
She should be in the basement, safe and sleeping behind several safeguarded doors, not meandering through the house, bloody and sick. And naked. The only thing she’s wearing is an apron that covers absolutely nothing.
And I still can’t rule out someone trespassing or some other foul play. Something brought this on and my gut is churning in rage. No one is allowed to hurt her ever again. Watching her die once was enough to last me for countless lifetimes.
“Bastard,” she growls as soon as she manages to fulfill the compulsion to drink more. I narrow my eyes at her, but her glare doesn’t waver. “I’m going to kick your ass,” she mutters and once again tries to push me away.
“Not a chance, sweetheart,” I reply and wipe a rivulet of blood from her jaw. “Now let’s get you cleaned up and back to bed.”
“You—”
“Don’t say anything that you’ll regret later, Samantha,” I interrupt her.
“You are the one who’s going to regret things.
I told you not to turn me!” she screams and backhands me so fast, I don’t see it coming.
For a new vampire, she sure packs a punch.
I crack my jaw back into place and grin.
She’s quite magnificent when she’s thoroughly pissed off. “Ugh… I can’t even… Just let go of me.”
“No,” I reply and get back on my feet. She tries to wriggle free, but I keep her securely locked in my arms. “What are you doing up here?” I ask while I carry her toward the staircase. She crosses her arms, refusing to hold on to me, and purses her lips. “Samantha,” I growl.
“I was hungry,” she huffs. “And your door handles are shit.”
I stop to look at the side door, the handle securely in place, and lift my brow at her.
“By this one, I didn’t bother trying. I just pushed it open,” she explains and tries to kick the door, jostling herself on my arm. Her second try connects and the door crashes from its hinges and I have to shift to get us out of the way.
“And the others?”
“The handles kept breaking in my hand.”
“Might have something to do with them being locked,” I mutter.
Her glower intensifies. “So you locked me up in a fucking basement after turning me against my will. And left me alone.”
I can’t help but smile. She’s spitting mad, covered in blood, and clearly something happened that we need to figure out… but she’s awake. Her eyes are clear now, her fangs look cute when she snarls at me, and I can sense her in our bond clearly.
Then her accusation registers and I frown. “I’ll never leave you, Samantha. I brought you to my mansion that is practically a safe house and placed you behind several locked doors that were enhanced to withstand an invasion to keep you safe while you transitioned.”
“You weren’t here when I woke up,” she says, and I hear the hurt in her voice. Fear too. It’s all covered with anger, but still there.
Quickly, I try to explain. “You were not supposed to wake up for a couple of months yet, darling. Thea saw you with the spring flowers, and it’s still winter. I was gone just for a couple hours.”
“Thea saw me?” Now she frowns, like that statement bothers her.
“Yes. Just briefly, but she saw you picking crocuses.” I take the stairs two at a time.
“Huh.”
“What?”
“She always said I’m impossible to see.” She sounds suspicious, like she doesn’t believe me.
“You were,” I reply, unable to keep the bleakness out of my voice. “For ten long months, neither of us knew if you’d ever wake up. She only saw a glimpse of you after you took my blood.”
We reach my bedroom and Samantha’s head swivels around, trying to take everything in at once. Then she glares at me again.
“I was not supposed to wake up again.”
“And yet here we are. Now let’s get you cleaned up and you can tell me how you managed to bust through two enchanted doors.”
“I can wash myself.” She once again tries to wriggle free as I walk into the bathroom.
“Stop that.” I add compulsion to my words and her eyes flash as her body complies and relaxes in my arms. The steam shower turns on with a command, and I walk in, clothes and all.
Gently, I set Samantha down on the warmed bench and keep an eye on her reactions.
A new vampire body experiences sensations differently, but she seems to be well adjusted and coherent.
“How did you get through those doors?” I ask while stripping out of my clothes and taking pride in the way her eyes track every movement.
“I kicked the first one and threw myself against the second. I was too hungry to think clearly,” she snaps. Her fangs peek at me.
“Are you hungry now?”
“No.”
“Samantha.” I sigh, annoyed at her lies.
“Fine. Yes. I’m still hungry, but I don’t feel like eating.”
“We’ll take care of the shower first.” The exhaustion waiting just behind her temper is clear and I just want to tuck her into bed, well fed and happy.
“I’m not showering with you. And I’m definitely not drinking your blood again. I don’t care how good the orgasms were. I’m mad at you.”
I can’t help the chuckle that escapes. “Oh, sweetheart. You can be as mad at me as you want and still get more orgasms.”
She growls at me, flashing her fangs. I flash mine in return and watch her pupils dilate.
Apparently, she still likes dominance games.
That’s a perk I hadn’t been counting on.
It seems that she retained most of her personality through the transformation.
What worries the fuck out of me is that she seems to have retained her illness as well, and that should be impossible.
“What brought the attack on? Did you have another migraine?” I kneel in front of her and pull off the ruined apron before taking a bar of soap and cleaning her feet. She clearly considers kicking me, but when I press my thumbs into her instep and massage, she groans.
“The attacks came after I tasted blood.”
“What do you mean?” I switch to her other leg and soap it up. Her toenails are dark blue and hard when I gently test them. Not something I’ve heard of vampires transforming, but maybe toenails are not high on the list of changes people notice.
“I was so hungry,” she says, eyes half closed, not fighting me anymore. “So, so hungry.”
There’s no point in pressing for more details right now.
Moving to her hands, I wash them and marvel at her nails that are the same blue, but sharper, harder, and longer than her toenails.
My Samantha has cute little claws. My cock gets hard thinking about them digging into my back when I fuck the daylight out of her.
When she’s all soaped up, I move her under the rain shower to rinse off. A soft moan comes from Samantha when the water runs over her skin.
“Feels good,” she mumbles and finally links an arm over my shoulder.
“Not too hot?”
“No. It tickles.”
“You are going to be overly sensitive from the transformation for a while. Is your head still hurting?”
“Fuzzy,” she says and yawns.
“You need to feed, then you can sleep,” I whisper in her ear.
She strikes so fast I don’t have time to brace. Her fangs sink into my pectoral and the pleasure of her bite hits me so hard my knees buckle and we fold to the floor together. Samantha keeps drinking and I have to use all my control not to touch her.
Hell. It’s going to be hell to teach her how to control the bite’s pleasure.
I stroke her hair until her bite releases and her body relaxes as sleep takes over. Quickly, I rinse us off and grab a towel to dry us off as I head back to the bedroom.
Fuck if I’m going to leave her alone for a second after this. Cleaning the mess downstairs can wait until I’m sure she’s safe and comfortably settled.
For a second, the guilt tries to lift its head, but ruthlessly, I crush it. I’d do it all over again if I had to choose between letting her go or turning her.
Samantha Ramsey is mine. Bonded through bite, bound by blood. Mine, and I’m never letting her go.