Page 9 of Bonded Through Bite

“Where do you think you are going?” Rafael’s arms band around my waist and pull me back against his chest. Instinctively, I snuggle against him and inhale his scent that is now enhanced with the smell of sex.

“Home,” I reply, trying to convince my body to get moving.

“Think again.” There is a dangerous edge to his voice.

“But,” I start and come up empty. I’m too tired to think. The alcohol, dancing, and sex have wrung me dry.

Rafael’s arms soften and he kisses the top of my head. “I like having you in my bed, darling. After all these years, did you think I’d let you leave once I got you here?”

“Mmh,” I hum. “I don’t know. I didn’t really think that far.”

He’s quiet for a moment and when he speaks, his tone is almost… hesitant. “Why now, Samantha? You’ve made your position pretty clear, so why did you change your mind?”

I’m so not ready to have this conversation with him. Maybe because I don’t fully understand it myself. Or, to be honest, I don’t understand why I said no in the first place.

“Sam?”

“I got tired of being scared,” I whisper, giving him a partial truth.

“I would never hurt you,” he rumbles.

“I wasn’t scared of you.”

That shuts him up long enough that my eyes refuse to stay open anymore. Distantly, I think about how sticky and sweaty I am and how much I need another shower, but my head grows fuzzier by the second as exhaustion creeps over me.

My dreams are full of weird colors, like everything has a filter on it and I can’t see through it. I’m walking in a forest that looks nothing like any forest I’ve ever seen, but when I try to focus on the details, they get hazy or my vision blurs.

On the one hand, this place feels familiar and homey. Another part of me is creeped the fuck out by everything.

Something is watching me.

Then a butterfly lands on my nose. It’s the same butterfly that has haunted my dreams ever since I was a little girl. The butterfly I tattooed on my shoulder as soon as I talked my mom into giving in. Vivid purple and pink fill my vision as the butterfly flaps its wings.

Disoriented, I blink my eyes and then the pain splits my head open. I whimper. Another stab of pain convinces me that I’m no longer dreaming despite the color flashing in my vision. Desperately, I reach over to where my nightstand and my meds should be but only meet another pillow.

No, no, no. Did I turn around in my sleep? Where the fuck are those pills?

My breath comes out in pants and I force my eyes open, expecting tiny shards of light to bore into my skull but instead meet utter darkness. Am I blind now? Scared out of my mind, I whimper again.

“Samantha?” A voice comes from somewhere. A man. Rafael. I’m still at his place. A wave of pain hits me again and I curl into a ball. A cool hand touches my forehead and I flinch.

Think.

You need to think.

Focus.

“My purse.” I have meds in my purse. I never go anywhere without them. “Where’s my purse?”

“I think it’s in the hallway. I’ll get it.”

I hear him move, or maybe I imagine it. My senses are all jumbled up. I inhale deeply and clamp a hand over my mouth.

I’m going to be sick.

Desperately, I kick and fight free from the blankets and spring to my feet. Dizziness makes the nausea worse—I have a few seconds to get to the bathroom. I grind my teeth together, hold my breath, and run.

I bang myself on the door, then against a table, but instinct guides me to the bathroom. I hit my cheek on the toilet ring just in time. Violently, I throw up.