The Bite That Binds Page 12

  I knew she was playing mind games with me and it made me want to slap her – female or not. I almost did when she grabbed my arm. Instead, I shook off her grip. “Yeah, I’m pissed with Sam,” I admitted. “I’m pissed with her big time. In fact, I get pissed with her a lot, just as she does with me. But I still love her, and that’s not going to change.” I stood sharply, almost unbalancing the lounger.

  “You say these things…but you have not totally opened yourself up to her, have you? You persist in holding back from her, even though it hurts her. Odd, then, that you claim to love her.”

  But Magda was wrong. I wasn’t holding back from Sam, although that was how both women saw it. Telling Sam about my past would mean going back to that place in time in my head, and it would mean taking Sam there with me. I didn’t want her being touched by that shit.

  Similarly, I didn’t want her to see the anxieties that lurked very deep inside me in spite of my efforts to get rid of them. I was broken in many ways, but I’d done a good job of hiding it, of denying it even to myself. It didn’t matter that I knew those anxieties were needless − when you were told things every single day of your childhood, those things had a way of embedding themselves inside you; lurking there, and appearing to torment you at your low moments. Knowing that none of it was true didn’t make it completely go away. And if your own mother couldn’t love you, it was so easy to believe that nobody else was ever going to.

  I didn’t want Sam to have to hear about that woman. I didn’t want Sam spending even a second of her life thinking about her. It would feel like I was letting my mother taint her just as she had tainted my human life. Of course I wasn’t dumb; I knew that I would have to tell Sam everything at some point − mostly because she would never let it alone. Was delaying that such a bad thing?

  Teleporting back to the apartment, I found Sam already in bed. I thought by her even breathing that she was sleeping deeply, but when I finally slipped into bed, one eye peeked open.

  “You still angry?” Her voice was a little croaky.

  “More angry than I’ve ever been about anything in my fucking life.” I was pulling her to me even as I said it.

  “If I’d told you about Luther’s vision, you would have tried to stop me from—”

  “Yeah, and as much as it pisses me off, I do understand why you didn’t tell me. But you could have told me afterwards, Sam. You could’ve, but you didn’t; that’s what hurts. On some level you were punishing me, weren’t you? You didn’t tell me because you wanted me to know how it felt to be shut out.”

  I could tell by her expression that she hadn’t really considered that. After a few seconds, she sighed. “Maybe. But if I was, I hadn’t actually realised it. It does hurt me that you don’t share stuff, especially this thing with your mother, because it’s obviously something big to you.”

  My arm contracted around her. “I don’t mean to hurt you. I would never want to do that. Not ever.”

  “But you don’t trust me with the details,” she assumed.

  I cupped her chin and tried to lift her face to mine, but she resisted. “Hey, hey, hey, look at me. Look at me.” Sighing, she did. “It is not that I don’t trust you. You, Evan, and Antonio are the only people that I do trust. I’m asking you to trust me here. I will tell you what you want to know. I will. Just don’t ask me to bring up this shit now. There is so much going on around us, interfering with our ability to enjoy our own Binding. Can we just shove this aside until afterward? Can we at least shelf this one thing?”

  Could I at least have the luxury of not thinking and talking about the woman who had given birth to me, but done little else for me? That was the real question, but it would be revealing too much. Sam had a very curious nature and was drawn to mysteries. She wouldn’t be grateful to know only a few things. No, her curiosity would drive her to ask for more details.

  “All right,” she eventually replied. “But you have to promise that you will tell me eventually.”

  I nodded, wishing she hadn’t said that, and wishing she wasn’t looking at me with an expression that said ‘I’ll need more than a nod’. “I promise.”

  “Good.” Abruptly, she sank her teeth into my chest. Her hand closed around my cock and she pumped as she drank from me, not stopping until I exploded over her hand. I was more than happy to return the favour.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  (Sam)

  I was surprised to find Wes and his snake on my doorstep at dusk. “Everything all right?”

  Wes gestured to a small gift-wrapped box he was holding. “I have something for you.”

  Not comforted by his impish expression, I nevertheless stepped aside to allow him to enter.

  Jared, who was seated on the sofa drinking a NST and eating toast, looked up from his breakfast. “Hey,” he greeted simply, and then his eyes went to the box. His expression – complete with the questioning brow – mirrored my own.

  “I have a gift for Sam. As I believe you will benefit from it to an extent, I suppose it can double as a Binding gift from Lena and I.”

  Curious, Jared rose from the sofa and went to take the box, but Wes shook his head and turned to me. “Firstly, may I ask how you slept?”

  Translation: Had there been any more pain? “Actually, I slept really well.”

  His smile was wide. “That’s good to hear.” He held out the gift to me.

  Not liking the roguish look on his face, I eyed the prettily wrapped box suspiciously. “What is it?” I asked dubiously.

  “That’s for you to find out, my dear girl. Here, open it.”

  Sighing, I took the box and carefully placed it on the coffee table. Just as carefully, I removed the wrapping paper, only to find a wooden box. Taking off the lid, I felt my eyebrows crash into my hairline. “Wow, a pen – just what I’ve always wanted.” Of course he was giving me a pen. Why wouldn’t he give me a pen? Clearly his antenna didn’t pick up all the channels.

  “This fountain pen is what I use to draw pictures or tattoos. Using it as an outline, I then project the image in my mind onto paper, skin, or whatever my ‘canvas’ is. A needle is not necessary and would not work with vampires anyway as the skin would heal too quickly.”

  I had to refrain from backing away when Toto leaned toward me, but he didn’t touch me. Instead, he flicked his forked tongue out at the box. Then it snapped into place. “Oh you’re bloody joking.”

  Jared frowned as the same realisation hit him. “You’re giving her a snake?”

  “Like Antonio, I reward those in my service who have truly earned it.” Wes turned back to me. “I have only ever done this for my most prized warriors.”

  I might have felt a little flattered by the sentiment if it wasn’t for the twinkle of mischief in his eyes. “I don’t know if ‘warrior’ is a word that could be used to describe me.”

  “Of course it is. Trust me, you will be more than happy with my gift. These snakes are such intelligent creatures. And so uniquely beautiful – not only in appearance, but in temperament. They are loyal to their…I suppose you could say ‘owner’. I am certain that Jared will be happy for you to receive anything that adds to your protection. Strikers are particularly protective.”

  I raised a brow. “Strikers?”

  “That is what I have named the breed. He will guard and protect you, just as Toto does me.”

  I probably would be better not asking, but, I had to. “And you picked the name ‘Striker’ because…?”

  “You see, in most instances it is easy to tell when a snake is feeling uneasy or threatened. This breed always appears calm and docile, but it is forever alert” – a little like Butch, then – “and it will strike so quickly, not even a vampire would have seen it coming.”

  Well wasn’t this special. Common sense advised me to tell him to shove that pen up his arse and sod off, but something in his eyes made me pause. He really, really wanted me to accept this gift, really wanted me to have this added protection. It wasn’t like I didn’t need protectio
n right now, was it? Finally, I nodded. He smiled in satisfaction, while Jared gave me a look that said ‘Fair play to you’.

  I led Wes over to the dining table and gestured for him to take a seat. He did, but stopped me when I went to sit beside him. “It would be better if you could stand due to our differences in size.”

  Oh again with the ‘size’ remarks. “Whatever,” I grumbled.

  “Are you happy for me to draw him on your arm? I’m quite certain that Jared will object to me sketching anything on your chest.”

  Jared threw him a playfully dark scowl. “You got that right.”

  I held out my arm, watching in fascination as he took the pen from the box on the table and began to draw. “You said ‘him’. Does that mean you’re drawing a male?”

  “Yes,” confirmed Wes. “He will be physically identical to Toto, though much shorter. He will grow with time. Growth, for Strikers, is an extremely slow process.”

  “So he’ll be a baby?”

  “No, he’ll be what you might call an adolescent. But this will not make him any less lethal. Size makes no difference with this breed. In tattoo form, however, he will always remain the same length.”

  Jared came to stand beside me, watching closely. “Does it hurt?” He ignored Wes’ impatient look.

  I shook my head. Strangely, the pen left a tingling sensation as it moved on my skin. It wasn’t pleasant or unpleasant, simply a sensation. Although the ink was black, other colours appeared in the intricate drawing, and I realised that Wes was projecting them onto the image.

  It was an hour later when Wes was finally finished. A very detailed four-inch long, piebald snake was then twined around my upper arm. The brown patches on his pure-white scales were small and spaced far apart.

  “Before I bring him to life, you need to give him a name. He will not simply be your guard, but a pet; an individual in his own right with a personality all of his own.”

  After a moment, I said, “I quite like Dexter.”

  “Why ‘Dexter’?” asked Jared with a smile.

  I shrugged. “I just like it. Or I could name him Slick, or Conan, or Boomer.”

  Jared chuckled. “No, Dexter’s good.”

  “Yes, I rather like it myself,” said Wes. “Now, Sam, stay as still as you can for me.”

  Fighting the urge to tense, I held still and waited. Wes did nothing other than stare at the image. Then, suddenly, heat travelled up my arm. Seconds later, there was a live snake where the image had been. Only it was five times the length that it had been as a tattoo, making it one and a half foot long.

  He had a good look around before his black eyes locked onto me. I would have expected that I’d be shuddering and backing away. Instead, I was smiling at him fondly – like a crazy person.

  Wanting to be sure I didn’t startle him, I slowly raised my hand and lightly ran a finger over his coffin-shaped head. Amazingly, he leaned in to the touch, still staring at me. His gaze was intelligent, observant, and curious. I almost shit my pants in surprise when his colour abruptly changed to the same brilliant blue that Toto had earlier been. “So that means he likes me, right?” I asked Wes without moving my gaze from Dexter.

  “Yes, it does.”

  “He’s actually kind of cool.” Jared took a step toward me, and Dexter’s head shot around to face him. Just like that, his colouring went to jet black and his tail rattled slightly. I remembered Wes saying something about Toto being grey or black whenever he was wary. And obviously the rattling tail wasn’t a good thing.

  “Whoa,” said Jared, freezing on the spot.

  Wes held up a hand. “He’s just being cautious as he doesn’t yet know you, and he’s intent on protecting Sam. It’s instinctive for him.”

  Jared looked slightly placated. “Why does it feel like he’s assessing me?”

  Wes smiled. “He most likely is. Come closer, so he can get a better feel for you.”

  I almost laughed at Jared’s ‘Do you think I’m stupid?’ look. “Oh behave. You face big, bad vampires all the time. He’s just a snake.”

  “With venomous fangs. Did you forget that part? And he spits, too. I like being able to see, thanks.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Come here, you big Nancy.”

  Jared tried his best to seem cool and calm, even moving with a very casual, cocky strut. “What do you want me to do?”

  “I need him to get used to you. I don’t want him thinking I need protecting from you, so just sit down on this chair near me. But slowly.” Once Jared had done as I asked, I took his hand in mine and waited. At a steady pace, Dexter slinked his way down my arm and up Jared’s. “Don’t tense.” To Jared’s credit, he didn’t.

  Much like Toto had done to me, Dexter flicked out his tongue, ‘tasting’ Jared. It had to have been at least a full minute before he returned to my own arm, switching back to a brilliant blue shade. “You’ve passed muster, by the looks of it.”

  “He didn’t change colour again until he was with you.”

  “Yes, but he didn’t bite you.”

  Jared jiggled his head. “Fair point.”

  I looked at Wes. “What do I feed him?”

  “He’s totally independent; perfectly capable of catching a rodent. Taking him into the rainforest regularly would be good for him so that he can feed himself. Do not feel guilty returning him to his tattoo form. He will be just as content in that form as he is in this.”

  “How do I turn him back?” I didn’t particularly want to, but I’d have to soon enough.

  “All you need to do in order to get him to change from one form to another is repeat the word ‘novo’. It’s Latin for ‘change’.”

  “That’s it?”

  “Yes. Try it now, as practice.”

  Feeling a teensy bit guilty, I nonetheless repeated, “Novo.” Instantly, Dexter seemed to melt into my arm and was back in his four-inch long tattoo form.

  “Whoa!” exclaimed Jared – and not just because of how strange it had been to watch Dexter change. No, what was stranger was that the tattoo was moving.

  That mischievous twinkle was back in Wes’ eyes. “You’ll find that he’ll often move around your body like that, just as he’ll also change colour while in tattoo form.”

  “Does it feel weird when he moves?” Jared asked me.

  I shrugged, chuckling. “I can’t feel anything at all. But I can sense his mood. He’s…content.” So Wes was right. Dexter was just as happy as a tattoo.

  Wes slapped his knees and rose. “Well, I shall let myself out.”

  Just as he reached the front door, a thought occurred to me. “Wait, just what exactly does his venom do?”

  Mischief returned to his eyes. “If he spits the venom, it will cause irritation to the skin and eyes, but will eventually wear off – unless the victim is human, in which case it can cause blindness. A single bite would not be fatal to a vampire, but it wouldn’t be pleasant. There are, in fact, three stages.”

  That didn’t sound good. “Stages?”

  “Each stage is only temporary and should wear off after a few hours. Stage one is blindness. Stage two is mental disorientation. And the final stage is paralysis.”

  I shouldn’t ask, I know, but… “And if a second bite is delivered, what would that do?”

  Wes shrugged. “Merely cause excruciating, cry-wrenching pain, which is then soon followed by death.”

  Of course it did.

  To look at Fletcher’s skinny frame, you wouldn’t think that he had the strength to cut off a person’s air supply merely by hugging them. I struggled inside his hold, managing to wheeze out, “Fletch, I’m fine.”

  “You’re not fine and you bloody well know it.” The Empath pulled back, wearing a stern expression. “I can sense that you’re a mess right now. I want to know everything, lady. Don’t leave a single thing out.” So we went inside my office, and I revealed everything – the brothers, the pain, and my problems with my gifts.

  Fletcher shook his head and put his hand to
his chest. “This isn’t good for the heart. I think I feel a palpation coming on.”

  “I’m trying not to worry. I really, really am, because I know that Jared will sense it if I do. He’s in a bad enough state as it is.” It was nice not having to pretend for just a little while.

  “Well of course he is. He loves you and he’s used to saving the day and having all the answers. He’s so worried about you, it actually hurts me to feel it. And—” Hearing the tap-tap-tap of high heels coming down the corridor, he groaned. “Oh here comes Widow Twankey. She’s intent on trying to put a spanner in the works, isn’t she?”

  I laughed. “I call her Jessica Rabbit, but Widow Twankey’s better, without a doubt.”

  Seconds later, wearing a superior grin and a dress that left nothing whatsoever to the imagination, Magda strode inside. Seriously, someone needed to tell her that she wasn’t the only one with a pair of tits. “I was hoping we could talk.”

  On receiving a nod from me that said I’d be okay, Fletcher strutted past Magda, snarling, and left the office. Of course he’d be eavesdropping, as usual.

  I arched a questioning brow at her, being sure to look disinterested.

  “Hi again, Sam.” When I didn’t respond, she sighed. “I feel like you and I got off on the wrong foot. Truly, I am not the enemy. In fact, I can help you understand Jared much better. I thought you and I could spend some time together and get to know each other.”

  “Oh you did? Well see, here’s the thing. I don’t want to get to know you. I have no reason to. If Jared had wanted me to, I’d have made the effort. But as he doesn’t…well, I’ll just tell you to fuck off.”

  “Aren’t you curious to know what he’s keeping from you?”

  “I’m curious to know why you don’t own any decent clothes.” I heard a snort of laughter from behind the office door.

  “Jared always liked them.”

  I could tell by her smug expression that she thought that was all it would take to set me off. Sure, I was pissed, but I was not about to give her what she wanted. “Do you want to know what he likes better? When I bite the head of his dick. Yeah, my Sventé saliva does the trick every time.”