Page 97 of Bonded Through Bite

A hint of Samantha’s scent comes with the blood. It shouldn’t. Not when she’s so young, and I’m old. I only tasted her. This scent implies long and regular blood exchange.

I never allowed myself to bond with Rafael enough to smell him in my blood.

The realization startles me enough that I spin on my heels and head back into the house just as the witch returns. She has clothes for Zack and blood for me. I’ve finished the first bag by the time Samantha and Rafael mosey back downstairs.

“She can’t stay in the house,” Samantha immediately says when she sees the witch.

“I need to stay close until Th-Thea arrives,” the witch stutters like she had trouble getting the name out.

“No,” Samantha snaps.

“It’s a big house, sweetheart. You haven’t seen much of it,” Rafael tries to reason with her. I could tell him it’s a waste of time.

“Come watch a movie with me, dove. I’m sure there’s a comfy couch and a big TV somewhere in here,” Zack says.

Samantha narrows her eyes.

I clear my throat. “The den.”

“There’s a guest house, a witch’s cottage, in fact, in the gardens. Ms. Winship could stay there until Thea arrives. Would that be all right, sweetheart?” Rafael says and Samantha mulls it over.

“Fine.” She looks at the witch, who politely averts her eyes. “I’m not always such a bitch but…” She trails off, like she’s not sure how to finish that sentence. “Anyways, yeah, the cottage is fine with me.”

“I’ll take no offense, Ms. Ramsey,” the witch says. “And the cottage sounds splendid. Would it be all right if I wandered in the gardens a bit?”

Rafael’s eyes narrow at that and I can’t help snorting. Witches and their obsession with the Rosewood Manor’s gardens.

“Just don’t harvest anything.” Rafael finally relents. He doesn’t sound happy about it, but for some reason, he’s not putting up a fight.

“Oh, of course. I wouldn’t dare!”

“Let’s go then.” Rafael motions to her and I decide to follow, since I didn’t see a cottage in the garden. The chance to offer him a sip away from Samantha has nothing to do with my motivations. Nothing at all.

Chapter Thirty-Six

Samantha

As soon as the potpourri is out of the house, I manage to breathe and relax. I’m pretty sure Zack is exaggerating his limp when he allows me to help him into the den. With a groan, he flops down on the sofa and pulls me with him, practically on top of him.

He doesn’t even turn on the TV, just nuzzles my cheek and neck.

“What are you doing?”

“Scent marking you,” he replies and I rear back.

“What?”

“You might not drink my blood, but you’ll carry my scent, dove.” He nuzzles me again and then kisses my shoulder softly. I’m not sure what to think about him laying a claim like that, but then I have to laugh a little.

We’ve bled together. He fucked my pussy to oblivion. I forced my blood on him. I think I can live with his scent on me. When I relax into him, he purrs. The sound lulls me into almost sleep where time doesn’t matter.

At some point, Rafael carries me to bed. His blood tastes richer; he probably drank from Santiago again. When I wake, it’s Santiago in the bed with me. He runs his fingers through my hair in an absentminded way that tells me he’s deep in thought.

“Where’s Rafael?”

“It’s his turn to keep watch,” Santiago replies, his gaze snapping to mine.

“Huh?”