Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
Samantha
Fuck him. Fuck him and this bloody stupid vampirism. And especially fuck the fucking witch whose blood he drank. The foul taste still lingers in my mouth and I wish I could rinse it off.
My feet carry me effortlessly through the forest. Rafael’s shirt is ruined from snagging on branches, but nothing scratches my skin too badly.
I didn’t blur far, but my pace is still pretty good. Trees pass by as I aimlessly keep going. I jump over tiny streams and my bare feet are silent on the forest floor.
I’m running half naked in the woods like a crazy person.
This is what my life has come to.
Bloody great. I must have racked up some major points of bad karma at some point. Maybe not staying dead does that to a person. If I ever meet an expert in the matter, I’ll be sure to ask.
Does my family think I’m dead? Thea? I flinch and stumble. Don’t go there, Samantha. Focus on something else. Like the witch you are going to drain—no! Fuck.
I push myself to run faster.
Distracting myself from my rage is not easy, but after some time, I can breathe evenly again. I don’t dare to stop or think too hard about why I’m angry. A voice whispers for me to hunt down the witch, bleed her dry. That way he won’t be able to drink from her again.
Not that he has been drinking from me either. Maybe that’s the problem. He’s willing to take her blood but not mine. I only become aware that I’m weeping when I choke on a sob and stumble.
Hastily, I clear my eyes and keep running. There’s no way I’m going to let Rafael see me crying after him. Another sob threatens and I push harder, almost blurring again.
Something crashes into me hard and sends me flying. Not something, someone, I realize when a growl sounds behind me. The wind is blowing from the wrong direction and I can’t get a scent. Based on the power that sent me hurtling, I think it’s safe to assume that there’s a threat.
I grip the tree for leverage and pull myself up. Right at that moment, I smell my own blood and my hunger decides to make itself known. Heaving, I spin in place just in time to see a massive wolf smash into something dark and large.
Both bodies roll and crash against the trees.
Menacing growls and painful yelps fill the air.
They fight, moving so fast that my senses warp.
At one time, it looks like two wolves, then it looks like a wolf and a bear, and then a wolf and a lion.
The only constant is the wolf that somehow seems to be staying between me and the other thing.
Blood flies around with tufts of fur and all of it makes my hunger worse. Pain gnaws in my stomach and dizziness makes it harder to keep track of the fighting beasts. To my untrained eye, they seem to be quite evenly matched, until the thing manages to ensnare the wolf’s leg in its jaws.
“No,” I whisper, horrified when the thing crunches down and the wolf howls in agony. The knowing that I need to help the wolf comes from deep within me. If he loses, I—we both die. Now I wish I hadn’t dropped out of those self-defense classes.
The thing turns toward me and the wolf lunges at it, a feral growl rumbling out. It manages to take a good chomp out of the thing and then they are going at it again. The only thing I can think to do, the only thing that I might be good at, is distraction.
I look for anything to throw at the two of them, but the forest floor is frustratingly empty of anything. Fuck it, I’m going to wade in. My instinct for self-preservation must be defective because my body perks up at the idea.
A couple of deep breaths later, the beasts roll closer and I jump. By pure luck, I manage to land on the thing and throw a punch.
The punch breaks bones, the crunch sounds horrible, and just then my repressed instincts roar back to life. Whimpering, I slump to the ground, horrified by what I’ve done. I’ve never punched anyone like that and now I just…
Retching, I turn away, but it seems that my distraction was enough to give the wolf the upper hand. It goes at the thing, ignoring its own injuries, and even more blood permeates the air around us.
With growls and bites, the wolf chases the thing off. For a moment, I think the wolf will follow the thing, but it stops still in my view. I wipe over my mouth and accidentally get some blood in my mouth, swallowing on reflex.
The nausea and pain hit me immediately, and whimpering, I fall to the ground. It wasn’t much, couldn’t have been, but it burns in my empty stomach. The wolf limps to my side, whining, and noses my cheek. Talking is impossible, but I curl my hand into its fur.
Mercifully, the attack seems to pass, leaving me achy but mostly clear-headed. The wolf is still hovering over me and I look over all the wounds still dripping blood.
“You are not a normal wolf, are you?”
In response, the wolf shimmers and, in its place, a man appears on all fours.
He’s bleeding even after the change. The lower part of his left leg has a bone sticking out, and yet, there’s something elegant about him, almost regal.
My hand is still on him and it looks ghostly pale against his brown skin.
For some reason, I expected him to be hairy, like the wolf, but he’s bald and his smooth skin is marred only by scars and new wounds. No clothes. I’m just going to ignore that for now.
“Um… you’re bleeding,” I say when he stays silent. I hate that he’s hurting.
“So are you,” he replies and rolls onto his back with a wince.
“What can I do?” I don’t have a phone. I don’t know any first aid that one can do with a torn shirt. “Why did you help me?” He’s a stranger and now he’s severely injured because of me. His eyes are a beautiful amber color when he looks at me.
“I… It…” He’s out of breath.
“Here,” I say, reaching over with my bleeding hand. “My blood will help you heal faster, right?”
“You would let me have your blood? You don’t even know who I am,” he asks with a gravelly voice. I bet it’s a nice voice when he’s not in pain and bleeding all over the forest floor.
“Well, who are you?” I ask, still holding my hand out.
“Zack.”
“Samantha.”
“You smell like Moretti. He wouldn’t appreciate you offering your blood to me, I’m sure.”
“Well, then it’s a good thing he doesn’t have a say,” I snap.
“I’m not sure I can hold back from biting you,” Zack says and I roll my eyes.
“Just get on with it.”
“Werewolf bites can be fatal to vampires. You do know that, right?”
“If you happen to bite me and I die, that’ll take care of my karma points. I’m pretty sure. In any case, that’s not very high on my list of issues.”
“Wha—”
“For heaven’s sake! Just drink already.” I lose my temper and my fangs shoot out. Once again, my blood’s being refused and it feels deeply personal. Even an injured wolf doesn’t want my blood when it could help him heal faster.
“I really shouldn’t—”
“What if that thing comes back and you are too injured to help me?” Okay, I completely admit that’s a low blow, but it gets him moving. He leans closer and wipes his tongue over my arm, where the wound still oozes. I’m not sure at what point I got it, and frankly, I don’t care.
Zack jerks back. “I can taste poison on the wound.”
“Poison?” What fresh hell is this?
“I need to clean it. Scrapes like this can very easily get infected.”
“I forgot my first aid kit in my other purse,” I mumble, lying down. I’m tired and hungry and in pain. Everything is getting fuzzy again and my energy is draining fast.
“Smart ass,” Zack rumbles and then shifts back into his wolf. Long, sure licks of his tongue wipe over the wound. It hurts, but I endure his care silently. Compared to the hunger gnawing in my stomach and the headache splintering behind my eyes, this pain is a welcome distraction.
At some point, I feel my skin knitting back together.
Some of the pain in my head eases and I focus on the wolf, now lying by my side.
His wounds are looking better, crusted over, if not completely healed.
Neither of us is bleeding anymore, but I’m still dismally weak and his leg still has a bone sticking through the skin.
“Your leg,” I whisper past my dry throat and the wolf gives a full-body shrug. I fully intend to push him, when a furious roar makes me whip my head around.
Rafael and Santiago rush over to me, eyes black and fangs low, full of menace. Zack tries to move, but I wrap my arm around him and hug him close, protecting his back and neck.
“My wolf,” I growl. Uh, I called him mine. Not that he minds, based on the way he presses closer.
“What?” Rafael hisses and reaches for me. I flinch away and narrow my eyes. Now that he’s close, I can smell the witch all too well and still his blood calls to me.
“Go back to your witch,” I manage to choke out before dry coughs rack my body. I burrow my face in Zack’s fur to drown out the sickly smell of lavender.
“Samantha, darling.” Santiago runs his hands over me, checking for injuries. “What happened? Why are you cuddling a fucking werewolf?”
“I’ll kill—”
“Fuck off, Rafael,” I whisper.
He hears me, of course he does.
“Samantha, look at me,” he says with that ringing voice I can’t refuse. I fight every inch but turn my head to face him. “Who hurt you?”
“Not him.” I can barely speak, black dots hover over my vision.
“Rafe, she needs to feed. Now.” Santiago sounds urgent, but I shake my head.
“Fuck”—I pant in between—“potpourri.”
“Goddammit,” Rafael growls.
“Drink from me. Hopefully, that’ll change your taste enough that she can choke it down,” Santiago says. He’s holding my gaze, daring me to object, but I only nod weakly. Everything hurts so bad now and my throat burns. Rafael turns to Santiago and I bury my face in Zack’s fur again.
The smell of Santiago’s blood is fresher; the lemon is tempering the lavender and I breathe more easily. Soon, I can detect hints of buttery pastry and sweet meringue. Relaxing against Zack, I stroke his back and wait.
“Samantha,” Rafael calls to me and I reach for him. He moves to pick me up and settles me into his lap. I shiver when I lose the warmth of Zack’s body.