Page 27 of Bonded Through Bite

“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.

Chapter Ten

Samantha

The next time I open my eyes, I know where I am. At least in general terms. I know who I am. And I know what I am.

A fucking vampire.

The room doesn’t seem nearly as dark as I thought. The more I blink, the more my vision clears, and I can make out the walls, the bed, and… nothing else. The room is really sparsely furnished. It’s not small; there’s space for vanities and closets, but there’s nothing there.

Kinda reminds me of a cell. If he chained me to the bed—I wiggle my toes and lift my hands. No chains. And that door better not be locked either.

When I swallow, the craving hits me like a truck.

Blood.

The need for it blindsides me. It takes over my senses and wipes away any thought. My stomach cramps and my throat is parched. It hurts and all my limbs feel heavy. Quiet whimpering fills the air, and it takes a moment to register that the sound is coming from me.

Blood. Blood. Blood.

Unyielding need pounds in my chest where my heartbeat should be. Trying to get up from the bed, I realize how weak I am. Sitting up makes me dizzy and when I try to stand, I end up rolling and falling to the floor.

I gasp in air and get overwhelmed by all the nuances my senses pick up. The air is cool, but I don’t feel cold. Despite being naked. Why am I naked? Fucking Rafael.

Thinking his name frizzes out my brain and my nipples harden. Because of the cold. Not him. I’m not lusting after the fucking vampire when I can barely move.

Get a fucking grip, Samantha.

I don’t smell his scent in the air—not beyond a whiff, like something left over from some time ago—but that’s enough to remind me of his blood. I need it. Now. Drink him down.

I gag.

No. I’m not drinking blood. His or anyone else’s either. Gross.

Except that the idea of sinking my fangs into his throat makes my pussy pulse. A sharp hit of lust that I can’t deny. I should be disgusted by the idea of biting him and drinking his blood, but I want it so bad it hurts.

Splendid, Samantha. Not only are you lying on the floor, naked, but you are lusting after the vampire who left you here alone.