Page 91 of Bonded Through Bite

Samantha sighs, pulling my attention back to her. She takes a sip and I don’t know what I expected, but her convulsing in Santiago’s hold isn’t it. The pained whine breaks my heart.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Samantha

The tea spills on the floor as my body wholly rejects the liquid. It’s a different feeling than my reaction to blood but equally bad. My mouth feels like it’s on fire. Thank fuck I didn’t have time to swallow. My insides feel like they are being shredded to ribbons as is.

Immediately after I lose control, the thing tightens its hold on me and floods my senses. My attack on Patricia was wholly my idea—at least I think it was—but the moment the thing realized I was in danger, it took over.

If it hadn’t, I’d be dead. There’s no way I can match Patricia’s skill, but the thing clearly knows how to fight. I really need to find a better name to call it, the thing is getting tiresome.

:You could call me Mate.

Fuck no! I’m no one’s mate, least of all that monster’s. I wring my hands together and try to keep my breathing under control. The thing—monster loosens its grip and I can breathe again. A hint of remorse flitters through my mind, then one by one, my muscles start to relax too.

:Didn’t realize…

Rafe and San are talking quietly, but I can’t focus enough to follow. The relief that’s coursing through my body is immense and, in its wake, comes a flood of feelings. The bond with Zack is the first to slam into place, quickly followed by Santiago. The bonds latch into my soul and all of it makes me disoriented.

I keep waiting for Rafael’s bond, but it doesn’t come. Neither does the—for fuck’s sake, I’m just going to call the thing Jim. Jims are idiots everywhere, right?

:I’d still prefer Mate, a sullen voice grumbles.

“Get the fuck out of my head!” I scream.

Everyone’s attention is glued to me after that little eruption. I feel their focus.

“I want all of you out of my head,” I mutter and struggle to get to my feet. Santiago just clutches me closer to his chest.

“Little fangs, what’s wrong?” he asks.

“What’s wrong? You are asking me what’s wrong? Seriously?” I promptly burst into tears. I’m exhausted beyond belief. “What isn’t wrong? I’m hungry, everything hurts, I want a nap and chocolate cake. And I have Jim in my head, and Zack’s bond, and yours too! Oh, and I can’t feel Rafael. Why is that, huh? What could possibly be wrong there?”

I take a breath and continue my rant. “Your bitch of a maker is running loose, Alyssa and her baby are dead, Zack is hurt, you are hurt, Rafael is drained”—I inhale deeply—“and why the hell do I smell potpourri in the house?” My voice breaks at the last shriek and I become aware that I’m pounding Santiago’s chest with my fists.

They are all silent after my outburst, even Jim. It’s Zack, who, after a moment, clears his throat and takes a stab at dealing with my emotions.

“I’ll be fine, dove, don’t worry. The witch gave me some medicine, the leg’s already feeling better. If she’s who I think she is, then you smell potpourri in the house because she was inside. She’s outside with my grandfather now.”

Okay, so that explains the smell and I’m happy that Zack is feeling better, but the raging jealousy pokes up its ugly head. “Why was she in the house?” I snarl at Rafael.

“Because she came to help,” he replies and moves to smooth my hair out. “I have no desire to drink from her ever again, Samantha,” he continues and stares into my eyes.

“You sure?” My lower lip trembles.

“Yes, I’m sure.” He drops a kiss to my brow.

“I’m going to get us some blood,” Santiago says and transfers me to Rafael’s arms when I don’t protest. I curl into him when he moves to sit on the couch next to Zack, who immediately lifts my legs onto his lap.

“I can’t help you with chocolate cake, but I’ll feed you as soon as San is back with the blood,” Rafael promises.

“You taste like chocolate cake,” I mumble when the anger drains with my energy.

Rafael chuckles at that.

“Now, who’s Jim?” Zack asks.

“The thing. I decided I’ll call him Jim. The thing is cumbersome and annoying and—I’m not calling you mate,” I snarl when he tries to butt in. “Goddamn pig-headed bastard,” I grouse.