Page 30 of Bonded Through Bite

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.