Unleashed (3 page)

Pain flashed hotly up her arms and into her shoulders as his fingers dug deeper into her. Sam fought to keep the tears at bay. Her face burned with a potent combination of fear, embarrassment, and anger. However, the fear that he might actually hit her was overtaken by raw anger. How dare he treat her this way? She wasn't a piece of meat or something he could just order out of a catalog. He didn't own her, and she didn't owe this rat bastard anything. This selfish bully represented every sleazy art dealer, salesman, and bar patron she had been forced to endure over the last eight years.

No more
.

Her existence was hers and no one else's. Her life, her successes, and her failures were all hers. She belonged to nobody but herself.

“You would rather stay in this hovel or go live with some pathetic old woman than be with me?”

Nonie? This bastard had the audacity to call her grandmother pathetic? The moment he dragged Nonie into his venomous tirade, something dormant inside of her sparked to life.

A low rumbling noise seemed to come out of nowhere and surround them. Samantha's eyes tingled, and the rumbling grew louder. The sound vibrated through her chest and radiated throughout the rest of her body. Somewhere in the back of her mind she rationalized that a subway must be going by at a most opportune moment.

Okay. One point for NYC.

“Don't you dare talk about my grandmother that way,” she ground out. Her voice sounded so odd, almost like a growl. If she didn't feel her lips moving, she wouldn't even believe that she was the one speaking. “Now, you take your filthy hands off of me.”

Roger's eyes grew as big as saucers, and his face went ashen. He snatched his hands back from her arm as if she'd burned him. He shook his head furiously and mumbled something she couldn't quite make out. She watched with smug satisfaction as he half ran, half stumbled down the steps away from her. The rumbling subsided as Roger disappeared around the corner.

“And don't come back,” she shouted victoriously in a voice she actually recognized. Sam did a little happy dance as she slipped the key into the door of her soon-to-be former building. Time to throw out the rest of the trash.

***

Roger didn't stop running until he reached the limo. He threw the door open and dove inside, slamming it shut quickly and locking it behind him. He opened the small refrigerator, grabbed the bottle of single malt Scotch, and proceeded to swig directly from the bottle.

His driver, Rudolph, who didn't even have time to get out and open the door for him, braced himself for the tongue lashing that was sure to come next.

“I'm so sorry, sir. It won't ever happen again, Mr. Van Dousen.” He sat perfectly still, braced for impact. However, no temper tantrum came. Rudolph glanced into the rearview reluctantly. “Will your girlfriend be joining us, sir?” He hated to ask anything about this artist chick because it always seemed to send him over the edge.

“Her eyes,” he hissed. “Her eyes. You should've seen her eyes.” Roger leaned forward and pointed at Rudolph with the bottle of Scotch still firmly in his grip. He rocked back and forth and continued mumbling to himself.

Rudolph cleared his throat to stifle the laugh that began to bubble up. If it came out within earshot of his employer, it would lead directly to the unemployment line.

“Yes sir, Mr. Van Dousen. I'll just give you some privacy for the ride home, sir.”

He hit the button for the privacy divider and held back on his laughter until it closed with an audible thump. The Golden Boy had finally lost it.

Sleep eluded Malcolm consistently, until the early morning sun began to crest outside his bedroom and rise above the rippling ocean. It cast fiery glints along the waves below. He was brimming with anticipation of what lay ahead. He couldn't wait to set eyes on his mate. See her in the flesh. He'd been waiting a lifetime to have her with him, and the day was finally here. He showered quickly and readied himself for the day. Staring out over the crashing waves, he ran various scenarios over and over. Exactly how was he going to tell Samantha who she really was? The right way escaped him. He ran his hands over his face, rubbed his tired eyes, and cursed quietly under his breath. A rap at his bedroom door ripped him from his mental exile. “Come in, Davis,” he said with slight exasperation.

Davis entered, carrying a tray of fresh coffee and toast. He was a slightly stooped over British gentleman who in his youth had likely been a rather imposing figure. While time had robbed him of much of his strength he was always impeccably dressed and had a constant twinkle in his eye. Davis was the family butler for years and a member of the Vasullus family. Generation after generation of his family served the Amoveo. They were the only branch of humans that knew of their existence, other than the Caedo. They lived to protect the Amoveo people from harm or discovery.

“Davis, why do you even bother knocking? It's just the two of us here.”

“Well, sir, I wanted to be sure you were prepared for visitors this morning. I know it's a big day today, what with Ms. Samantha arriving back and all. I thought you might be feeling a bit nervous and didn't want to give you a fright,” he said with a quiet smile. Gently, he placed the tray onto the enormous mahogany nightstand. It looked small in comparison to the looming four-poster bed it stood next to.

“Why on earth would I be nervous? I'm her mate. She is mine. Period,” he growled. He stepped into his cavernous walk-in closet and haphazardly threw on a rumpled polo and khaki pants.

“Somehow, I don't think it's quite that simple, sir. She doesn't even know she's an Amoveo. That alone is a bit of a pill to swallow.” He poured a fresh cup of coffee and handed it to Malcolm. “Besides, her own grandmother doesn't even know. Now she's a right saucy dish that Nonie.” He winked.

Malcolm shot Davis an irritated glare and took a sip of his coffee, but stopped abruptly at the sound of a car crunching its way into the neighboring driveway. He passed the clattering cup and saucer back to Davis, brushed past him, and ran down the sweeping stairway to the bay windows. He stood at the edge of the window taking great care not to let her see him. He didn't want Samantha to see him just yet. Malcolm, his body rigid with expectation, gently pulled back the thick drapery and stared at the little red car in the driveway below.

His heart skipped a beat, and his breath caught in his throat at the sight of his mate. He called up the sharp eyesight of the eagle. It took much of his limited powers to do it, but it was well worth it. He saw every beautiful detail of her face—her large almond-shaped eyes that reminded him of Ceylon sapphires, regal high cheekbones, a delicate nose, generous pink lips that begged to be kissed, and her face framed by lustrous blonde hair that gleamed brightly in the sunlight. He envisioned burying his nose there and breathing her in. His body responded urgently, tightening and hardening with an overwhelming desire he'd never experienced. Quickly, he stepped away from the window and let the drape fall down to block out the sun.

***

After the brutal drive along the I-95 corridor from NYC, Samantha finally pulled her old VW Bug into the long gravel driveway of her childhood home. The poor car had barely made the trip back to her grandmother's house. She stopped for a moment, giving the old girl a rest before forcing it up the large hill. The enormity of what she was doing finally hit her. Self-doubt crept in and crawled up her spine. Was she doing the right thing? Was she really being brave and starting over, or was she running home a failure like Roger said? Her stomach tightened, and anger flared hotly in her chest. No! She was taking charge of her life, and he could kiss her ass.

A flash of light caught her eye, interrupting her inner dialogue. Sam looked over at the house that loomed ominously next door. She forgot how huge the old Victorian was—it dwarfed Nonie's little Cape. It was as creepy as it was big. The Drew family had owned it for generations. Instead of looking stately, it looked aloof and horribly lonely. The wolf dream wasn't the only dream that had played over and over. There was another one that didn't have the same effect. She shuddered at the memory of the persistent nightmare she'd had since high school. She would wake up sweating, frightened, and just a little bit sad.

Sam shielded her eyes from the glare of the setting August sun as she peered at the old Drew house. She could swear the house looked like it was sitting there waiting for something. Sam shuddered slightly and threw the car into first gear. As the old rust bucket lurched up the gravel drive, she got the overwhelming feeling that someone or something in that house was waiting for her.

Sam climbed out of her car at the top of the drive and gave her stiff body a long, lazy stretch. She grinned, hearing her name carried in the breeze. She looked over and saw Nonie waving from the top of the beach stairs. Although well into her seventies, Nonie still had spunk. Her silver hair was swept gracefully up in a bun with loose pieces flying around her twinkling blue eyes. She scooped Sam up as though she were still the little girl with pigtails and braces. She thought Nonie gave the best hugs. They made her feel completely enveloped in warmth, like she could stay cradled there forever.
Cherished,always cherished.

“Well, my goodness! Samantha Jane Logan, it's good to have my girl home! How was your trip? Not bad traffic, I hope,” Nonie said, slowly releasing her grip on Sam.

“No more than usual. It's so good to be home Nonie. Are you sure you're going to be able to stand having me around again?”

“Well, I'll have to tell all my lovers to back off, but it's worth the sacrifice,” she said teasingly. “Come on now, bring your things in, and let's get you settled.”

Lovers? Sam knew she'd been teasing, but the idea still made her queasy. It wouldn't be outrageous to think that Nonie got more action than she did. Sam had only had two lovers in her life, and neither one had lived up to her expectations. The first was her college boyfriend of three years, and the second was the only boyfriend since. It had been a brief affair that lasted less than a year. Sex and love were intermingled for her. She had friends that could separate the two, but not her. That pesky thing called her heart always got in the way of the whole friends-with-benefits thing. The sex she'd experienced so far didn't exactly inspire her to seek it out. In the movies or on television, it was portrayed as this electrifying event. Well, it just wasn't like that for her and she doubted it ever would be.

She brought her bags into the house and realized that it was probably better she felt that way. She smiled wryly, looking around her childhood home. If she did meet someone now, she couldn't exactly bring him back to her place. Nonie insisted Sam get herself unpacked and settled while she got lunch together. Sam knew what was for lunch when she had walked in. The whole house was filled with the comforting aroma of Nonie and Pop's conch chowder. Smiling wistfully, she climbed the stairs up to her old room and started getting settled. She put her clothes away and slipped back into her old room easily. Like a pair of comfy old blue jeans. She stood at the bay windows, overlooking the ocean and the beach below. A glint from the Drew house caught her eye, as it had earlier. This time she could see someone in the window upstairs. She cranked the window open and leaned out to get a closer look. Whoever it was stepped back and the drape closed.
Strange.
Who was there? Her curiosity was peaked.

Growing up here all those years, she never saw anyone except the live-in butler, Davis. She swore the guy was older than dirt. She and her best friend, Kerry Smithson, would double-dog-dare each other to go over and step just one foot on their property. Sam smiled at the memory. They usually ended up giggling, screaming, and running back home. The Smithson family owned the house to the left of Nonie's. It had been the family's summerhouse for years. She and Kerry grew up together sharing everything, every summer since either of them could remember. During the rest of the year, they'd stayed in touch with letters and phone calls. Sam had gone to boarding school because it was too desolate in the off-season. Nonie didn't want her growing up alone.

“Sam! Lunch is on,” Nonie called.

“Coming, Nonie,” Sam shouted as she closed the window. She bounced down the stairs and slid into her chair at the kitchen table, just as she had so many times as a girl. “It smells amazing, Nonie. Now I know I'm home.”

“Well, dig in, my dear,” she said.

Sam ate the first spoonful and smiled. “Thank you, Nonie.” Her throat tightened, and her eyes began to well up. The swell of emotions took her by surprise.

“It's just soup, dear.” She covered Sam's hand with her own.

“No.” She sniffed. “Thank you for everything, for raising me, for taking me in now, for the soup, for all of it.” She giggled a bit through her tears, feeling foolish for such a display. New Englanders aren't exactly known for free-flowing emotions.

“Now, now. I should be thanking you. If it weren't for you, I'd have no family left. You keep me young. I'm thrilled to have you here with me. Kerry's parents have left for the summer already, off to Paris or something.” She waved. “So that would leave me with old Davis next door, and he's even older than me.” She chuckled. “Thank goodness you're here. The winter will be much more tolerable this year.” She smiled. “Come on, your soup's getting cold. Eat up.” She gave Sam's hand a squeeze.

“Wow. Davis is still taking care of that old place? How old is he now? He was like a fossil when I was a kid.” Sam smiled over her bowl at Nonie.

“Very funny, missy. He's not that much older than me, smarty pants.”

Sam chuckled and dug back into her chowder, savoring every bite. They fell into a slightly awkward silence. Sam had never really explained to Nonie why she was coming home, probably because Nonie hadn't asked. A few weeks ago, she simply called up and said she'd be moving back home.

Time to acknowledge the elephant in the room
.

Sam didn't know how to start or where to begin. Nonie's sea blue eyes were inspecting her intently, and it made Sam squirm a bit in her seat.

“So,” Nonie began, “are you ever going to tell me why you decided to leave New York?”

Elephant acknowledged.

“Not that I'm complaining. Please don't misunderstand. I'm just…well I'm worried about you, Samantha Jane.” She took a sip of her tea but didn't take that intense gaze off of Sam for one second.

Sam pushed what was left of her chowder around the oversized bowl and stared into it as if the right answer would be revealed in the bay leaves. Nonie was a bit of a velvet steamroller, and she always got what she wanted with gentle but persistent measures. To be honest, Sam was surprised it had taken her this long to start the inquisition.

Sam took a deep breath and a large swig from her glass of milk, really wishing that it was a shot of bourbon. “I couldn't hack it.” She shrugged. “I got tired of waiting.”

“Waiting?” Nonie cocked her head, and her eyes squinted with obvious confusion. “You mean waiting tables?”

“Well, that sure. Since I'm an artist, I suppose there's no way around that one.” She laughed softly. “But more than that. Waiting for my art to sell, waiting for Mr. Right.” She sat back in the chair that had once seemed so big. “Just waiting. I came to a point where I felt like I was waiting for my life to start, but at the same time life was passing me by.” She leaned on the table with her elbows and rested her chin in her hands.

“Is that all? Something must've sparked this revelation.” Nonie's eyes narrowed, and that I-know-you're-not-telling-me-everything tone dangled in air.

Sam avoided her gaze and immediately gave more attention to her chowder. “I had a dream,” she mumbled.

“I'm sorry, dear? I didn't catch that. What did you say?”

Sam cleared her throat and said it again. “A dream,” she said with a bit more volume. She grimaced because she knew it sounded crazy. Hell, it sounded even crazier once she said it out loud. She forced herself to look up at her grandmother. To her relief she was met with a small smile and the same loving eyes she'd seen her entire life. “Sounds kind of nutty, huh?”

Nonie shook her head slightly and placed her teacup in its saucer. “Not nutty at all,” she said serenely. “What kind of dream was it?”

Sam hesitated and nibbled on her bottom lip. “I dreamed of being here at the beach.” She smiled back at Nonie and took another sip of her milk. “It just made me want to come home. That's all. Besides, I'm in my thirties now. I gave the big city a shot in my twenties, but…new decade…new start.”

Nonie made a small sound of understanding but clearly knew Sam wasn't telling her everything. Sam avoided telling Nonie the whole truth about the dream. She wasn't sure why, because normally she told Nonie everything. She wanted to keep that private.

Change the subject, change the subject.

“Nonie,” she said with more enthusiasm than necessary. “Is someone living in the Drew house with Davis? I could swear I saw someone in one of the upstairs windows.”

“Oh, fine.” She sighed. “Change the subject.”

Sam smiled and shook her head. Nonie always could always see right through her.

Just call me Ms. Cellophane.

“Seriously, I saw somebody in one of the upstairs windows. It was a little
creeptastic
.”