“Get away from me, you son of a bitch!” He came at me again, and this time I felt a line of heat scour across my ribs as the scent of my blood filled the air.
I had longed to find someone who would put up more a fight, who would prove to be more of a challenge than the others had been.
Finally, a human who might meet my expectations. Too bad it won’t do him any good.
I swiped my claws towards his face and was pleasantly surprised when he managed to get an arm up in time to block the bow, though it left his arm in useless tatters. He lunged at me again, trying to strike at my chest, but I easily slipped past his reach and knocked him to the floor. I had wasted enough time and energy entertaining my need for a fight, now it was time to feed.
Splitting my lips in a wide grin, I watched as he stumbled, his balance thrown off as his feet slipped in the growing pool of blood from his ruined arm. I fell on him then, claws raking his chest as I clamped my jaws around his throat, inhaling deeply to savor the scent of his death.
My vision grew dark and fuzzy for a moment, and when it cleared I was staring up in terror at the vile beast looming over me, rancid breath huffing against my face, hot against the tears and blood that tracked down my cheeks. Golden eyes brimming with hatred and hunger stared back at me, any prayer I’d had for mercy fleeing like a bird loosed from a cage. I could feel my life bleeding away with each straining thump of my heart. Scraping up the dregs of what little life I had left in me I murmured, “Stay away from me!”
The sound that came out of Samson was more like a growl than anything even remotely close to a human laugh, but there was no mistaking the amused gleam in his eyes.
“Stay away from me,” I repeated, my voice sounding slurred and faraway.
“I’ll never stay away from you again, Riley,” he replied, his words mangled by the crooked row of fangs lining his mouth.
“No! Stay away!” I tried to shout, my words bubbling uselessly on a tongue suddenly made of lead, too heavy to move. I wished that I could raise my arms to cover my head as Samson reached out towards me, trailing razor tipped claws across my face. My wordless scream filled the air as his claws left jagged holes in my cheeks, raking along my teeth.
“Riley, wake up,” Samson said, his voice somehow sounding both worried and ferocious.
I felt myself slipping away, drifting into the warm darkness even as he tried to call me back, his voice sounding full of concern and fear.
***
“Wake up, Riley,” Holbrook said, shaking me roughly, jarring me awake. My eyes snapped open, and for a single heart pounding moment I couldn’t see past the spots dancing in front of my eyes. “It’s okay, I’m here.”
Gradually the stars in my vision coalesced into Holbrook’s face, a deep furrow creasing his brow. The light from the lamp beside the bed reflected in his eyes, highlighting a multitude of golden flecks within their green depths that I hadn’t noticed before. My heart was still pounding and my t-shirt was soaked through with sweat, my breaths burning in my throat as they came fast and hard. It took me a moment to realize that I was sitting on the floor at the foot of the bed, my hands curled into fists against the carpet.
I was okay. I was alive.
A loud, hiccupping sob erupted from me as I threw my arms around Holbrook’s shoulders and buried my face in the curve of his neck, heedless of the scratch of his stubble against my wet cheeks. I could feel the eyes of the other agents on me, judging me, but I didn’t care. They could think I was just being a silly little girl if they wanted to.
“It was just a dream. You’re safe,” Holbrook whispered against my ear, running a hand up and down my back.
I nodded, but my fear still lingered. I wasn’t so sure.
“It was so real,” I said, my voice muffled against his skin.
Sucking in a shaking breath, I was immersed in his sugary scent, a smell that was rapidly becoming familiar and comfortable, loosening the knot of worry in my stomach enough that I didn’t feel like I was in danger of painting the back of his shirt with my dinner.
After a long while, when my near hysterical sobs had been reduced to the occasional snuffling hiccup, he asked “Can you stand?”
“I think so.”
With his hands wrapped around my arms, Holbrook drew me up to my feet. I was grateful for his support as I swayed on legs that felt as though they had been made of rubber.
“Is everything all right, Sir?” one of my bodyguards asked from the doorway. I wasn’t sure if it was Collins or Hill; with their matching unflappable expressions fixed firmly in place they may as well have been clones.