Chapter 28
28
Ramone
Thirsty, I opened Samantha’s refrigerator, and grabbed two bottles of water. My pulse hadn’t returned to normal yet and I paced back and forth, wearing a path across the marble flooring. I almost killed her; I could’ve killed her. She should be dead—but I didn’t want to admit that to myself, not fully. The fact she wasn’t, was astounding. It was unfamiliar territory for me. On the one hand, it was the greatest gift I could ever receive. I was positive I would’ve ended up extinguishing myself or putting myself to sleep in a soul coma for a millennium, not wanting to exist without her if she’d died. On the other hand, this phenomenon was a shining example of just how very wrong everything was going, and possibly indicative of even bigger issues. Or it was the greatest gift I could receive.
It grated at me, how I had no answers, and no one trustworthy enough to speak to about it. The one person I did, Alastair, was already on a mission attempting to uncover the mysteries of the wine, as well as Ilya. Unfortunately, I couldn’t trust Ilya for much of anything outside of keeping my business running. He’d shown me in the past how he’d work against me.
Approaching my father, Julian, was out of the question of course.
It had only been maybe five minutes, and already my cock was engorged again, tenting my slacks at just the mere thought of her. My tongue craved her blood, and my spirit, her soul. I took a deep breath, drinking in the bits of her that permeated the air of her home while I attempted to tame the beast clawing at my insides. I’d felt an even deeper connection to her when we made love, a closeness and oneness that I’d never experienced before. Not even with my wife, nor with Kiara.
That’s what I’d done with Samantha; I’d made love to her. I hadn’t just fucked her and thrown her away or used her body. I’d worshipped her, body, soul, and spirit.
When I stopped to consider if she felt the same way, I stunned myself. The full realization that I for once was giving a serious shit how a human felt was an unfamiliar novelty. It was far beyond the other times when I’d cared, as it was much less about my own selfish motivations and more focused on the needs of another. The awareness that it could’ve been the cursed wine messed with my head, leaving me with another, different emotion. Vulnerability.
I could live with the ramifications of needing to make sure Samantha felt the same way about me as I did her. The wine causing artificial symptoms or emotions within me, feelings that I no longer wanted to give up, was untenable. This sickness was necessary now, the effects of the cursed and damned wine something I couldn’t imagine being without if it would allow me to love Samantha the way she deserved.
Making my way with the bottles of water back to her room, the war continued in my head until I saw her with her hands on the scrying glass, eyes rolled back in her head. The ball had a hold on her. I quickly curled my arm around her waist, dragging her to the bed after dropping the water.
The crystal ball tumbled to the floor with a thud and rolled away into a corner. “Samantha. Samantha.” I shook her lightly, scared for her. She didn’t possess any magic of consequence, or I would’ve tasted it. She shouldn’t be able to handle such an item without getting hurt since she didn’t have the gift.
Her head rolled forward, resting against my chest as I sat her down. She moaned and then looked up at me before shaking her head.
“Please don’t touch that scrying tool,” I said. “It's as dangerous here as it was there, for you.”
Samantha glanced down at her lap, pulling her arms away. I gave her a minute to get her bearings before I spoke again. “I need to get that out of here. I shouldn’t have left it there.” Humans had a peculiar way of always touching things they shouldn’t.
“I saw things. Bad things,” she muttered. “Dark things.” She started picking at the fabric of the rumpled comforter.
“What things?” I’d never used a crystal ball; it wasn’t one of my gifts to do so effectively. My assistant, Violet, was the only one I knew of that could, occasionally. Due to the rarity of the gift and the unreliability, they weren’t used much.
Samantha shivered and stood up. The golden aura that wafted around her frame was dimmed and then retracted. I felt the separation like the drag of a razor blade down my spine. “War. Death. So much death and decay.”
I could barely hear her words, the effort it took for her to speak seeming to overwhelm her. Standing up, I moved to reach for her, but she shrunk away. My temper flared instantly when she scooted even further away. Shoving my anger over her skittishness down, I relaxed my stance and held my hand out toward her. “Samantha, come here.”
She shook her head. “I saw you. I saw what you did. What you’ve done.” She wouldn’t meet my eyes. “What stopped you from killing me?”
Carefully, I took a single step in her direction. That one step put her in the door’s frame, giving her even more space. “I told you how I feel about you. I would never hurt you.”
I would never purposely hurt her, ever. Now was not the time to discuss this quirk of mine.
“You’re like an angel of death or something.” She shook her head again as I chuckled. She was close, but not quite close enough. “You need to leave,” she said.
She hiccupped as the tears started to flow. I took a long stride, stopping in front of her and went to cup her face with my hand. Her arm darted out, slapping me away. My blood heated and I grabbed her, her skin slick from her tears. I swiped them away, gathering them in my palm, before releasing the tiny sapphires to fall, pinging against the hardwood floor of her bedroom.
“I told you before,” I growled. “I won’t hurt you.”
Her eyes flashed. “You told me before that you’d make me a necklace from the bones of my enemies. That’s you. And you told me you’d kill me, remember?”
Her nails were digging into my forearms as she still tried to get away. “And I will do that for you, make you that necklace.” I’d meant what I’d said. I would do anything for her, give her anything she asked for. She would be mine, even if she didn’t know it yet and considered me the enemy. The subject of killing her, I wasn’t going to broach that.
Letting go of Samantha, I scooped my shirt and vest off the floor and put them on, watching her as she stood there, shoulders hunched forward, her lips trembling. She was completely shut down, her essence wrapped protectively around her. Satisfyingly, I detected the sadness and hurt surrounding her, tinting her aura with a faint dark blue hue. I’d have her simply because it would become unbearable for her to stay away.
I'd felt the connection, and surely, she did as well. It was so strong that a tether had begun to form, a glistening thread I could detect between us. It made the necklace I’d gifted her unnecessary; we were attached no matter how far we should separate. She could fight it all she wanted; she was just wasting time railing against the inevitable. She was mine and I was hers.
When I finished buttoning my vest, I sat on the edge of the bed putting my boots back on. Samantha maintained her vigil in her doorway, surprising me. Normally people in her position would have retreated and ended up in the fetal position on their couch—but not my woman. I smirked, biting back a laugh.
She caught it and narrowed her eyes at me. “I’m happy you find this amusing,” she snarked, before her voice trembled all over again. “What are you?”
I stood up and grabbed the glass sphere. “Do you really want to know?”
Samantha bit her lip and nodded, meeting my gaze.
“I’m the devil.” I snagged the blood wine with my other hand, cradling it beside the ball as I left the room.