Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
Santiago
The front door slams shut and wakes Samantha up, and I grimace as she wriggles free from my embrace and dashes out of the bed. Whatever peace and connection we had is gone now. She’s hungry. I can see the strain in her eyes and jerky movements.
I don’t bother saying anything when I climb out of the bed slower and get dressed. She barely stopped to pull on one of Rafael’s shirts. I kind of hoped she would choose my shirt. I make my way downstairs just in time to see Samantha jerk back from Rafael and spit back the blood in her mouth.
“What the hell?” she shrieks and wipes her tongue with the back of her hand.
“What?” Rafael asks, looking as confused as I feel.
“What did you do to your blood?” Samantha snarls and then her whole body tightens, ready to attack. “Who did you drink from?”
The menace in her voice gets me moving and I wrap my arms around her waist, plucking her out of the air when she attacks Rafael. She struggles and tries to twist out of my arms, growling.
“It was just a sip,” Rafael mutters, looking defensive and irritated.
“A sip from who?” I ask at the same time Samantha shouts.
“Your blood tastes like bloody potpourri now. I’m not touching that shit. I’d rather starve!”
Rafael blanches and I can’t help growling either. Samantha takes a few deep breaths and stops struggling.
“Let me go,” she says, calm and collected. Somehow, that makes me warier than her explosive temper. Reluctantly, I release her but keep an eye on her every twitch.
“Who did you drink from?” I ask again when Rafael stays stubbornly silent.
“A witch,” he finally answers and Samantha tenses again. She takes a deep inhale, clearly smelling him this time, and throws her hands in the air.
“I can’t deal with you right now.”
I’m not sure, but there might be a hint of jealousy in her voice. A tiny hint. The anger is easy to hear and so is disgust. She turns on her heels and blurs out the back door before either of us can react.
“Samantha!” Rafael bellows after her, but she doesn’t reply. When did she learn to fucking blur? Goddammit, this is a mess.
“I’ll go after her,” I mutter and find Rafael by my side. Him going after her might not be the smartest idea, but right now I don’t want to waste time with pointless arguments. Silently, we follow Samantha’s scent, but it fades fast in the rain and I curse under my breath.
“Why did you drink from the witch?”
“I didn’t drink from her. I took a sip. One small sip.”
“Why?”
“She was masking her scent and refused to drop the spell.”
“Dumb of her.”
“Witches, always causing trouble,” Rafael grumbles.
We stop at the same time, realizing there is no longer a scent to follow.
“Don’t tell me she knows how to conceal her scent too?” I sigh and rub my eyes, trying to stay calm.
“I don’t know what the hell she can and can’t do. If you haven’t noticed yet, she doesn’t exactly fit any norms.”
I resist pounding my head against the closest tree. “Where would she go?”
“Away from me?” Rafael asks sheepishly and I roll my eyes. There’s technically nothing wrong with what he did, but I can’t help resenting him for the fact that he upset Samantha.
“I think we can both agree on that, but how far would she run?”
“Hmm… How pissed off would you say she is?”
“Very. And hungry.”
“Then I would wager at least an hour away.”
I raise my eyebrow at that and Rafael groans.
“Two?”
“Maybe two, depends on how quickly she’ll tire out.”
Rafael chuckles and then stiffens suddenly. “You don’t think she would go after the witch?”
“Fuck,” I say and look around. “Why was the witch here in the first place?”
“She came with the pack. There’s been a string of females going missing, both shifters and witches.”
“How far are we from pack land?”
“Not far,” Rafael murmurs, looking worried.
Samantha wouldn’t go after the witch, would she? I don’t think so, but a seed of doubt grows at the back of my mind.
“We better go check,” I say, but Rafael shakes his head sharply.
“The wolf we found… She was the alpha’s mate. The pack’s going to be a mess and on edge. I need to make a call and get approval, or we might start a war.”
“And you are not willing to go to war over Samantha,” I spit the words out bitterly.
“Fuck you, San,” he snaps right back at me. “I’m more than willing if it comes to that. But we don’t know if she really is heading that way. You think we can protect or feed her if we are captured or dead?”
“Don’t be absurd. They would never catch me,” I growl.
“Well, go ahead then,” he shouts, eyes swirling black. “I won’t risk messing this up even more than I already have.”
I’m ready to rip him a new asshole when the wind changes and brings the faintest whiff of Samantha to my nose.
We’re running before another word is uttered.
That scent carries the note of her blood.