"Hey--" Sam places a hand on my shoulder and I jump, dropping the glass in the sink with a loud clunk.
"Are you okay?"
I don't turn to face him so I can have enough time to wipe my cheeks with my sweater. Damn Phoenix for making me cry. I can feel the hot streaks drop one more time before wiping them away and turning to face him. The concern in his silver eyes is palpable.
"Better than ever," I mumble half-hartedly and slide past him. "Make yourself at home, I'm going to the bathroom."
Liar.
Well I need some kind of excuse.
Sam nods and sits down at the table in the dining room. He rolls up the sleeves of his sweater and stares out the window, his eyes knitting together, contemplating. I take my chance and dash down the hallway, skipping past the bathroom and sneaking into my room, closing the door softly. I head over to my school bag and reach into my back pocket, releasing the letter from them.
You should read it later, when Sam's not in the house.
I guess you're right.
Always am.
I scoff and stuff the letter into my bag. My hand knocks against something hard and I feel my forehead crease with confusion. Gently, I take out the black hardcover book out of my bag. I remember fighting over this thing with Sam a few days ago, the first day I met him. He said that Blanks were attracted to the book if they were in the general area. But what was it doing in Airway Prep's library? I shrug and grab some clothes from my closet and head into the bathroom. I take a quick shower and put on the fresh clothes, jeans, a belt, and a navy blue long-sleeved shirt, now feeling a bit better but still in the need for a good hot beverage.
I emerge from the bathroom and hit by the strong aroma of coffee steaming in the pot. Sam's in the kitchen, searching through cabinets and drawers.
"Eneile, where's your creamer?" He says with his head buried in a big cabinet by the stove. I chuckle under my breath. Wait- didn't we run out of coffee a couple days ago? Tucking a lock of damp hair behind my ear I glance at him, quizzical.
"You made coffee?"
"Mhm. You drink coffee, right? While you were in the shower I went to a Starbucks quick and bought those little packet... thingies."
"Thingies? I don't think Starbucks sells...Thingies." I laugh at him while I imagine Sam popping up in Starbucks to buy Thingies. Sam mocks hurt, putting a hand on his chest and scoffing at me before chuckling and pours the coffee into two mugs. I open the fridge and pull out the Hazelnut creamer and add it into the coffee. I sip on it gratefully. Damn, this is good. The liquid warms my throat and I sigh, feeling the most relaxed since... well, since Sam came into my life.
I sit at the table and Sam follows, gulping down his coffee. We sit in companionable silence for a while before I break it.
"Did you knock on my door early this morning?" I ask, taking a swig of the now semi-hot coffee and draining it all.
"No..." Sam says, eyeing me over his cup as he takes a sip. "Why?"
"Someone knocked on my door at four in the morning today. I thought it might have been you, what with your stalker tendencies and all."
"Stalkers don't knock on the Stalkie's door..." Sam's silver eyes flash. "You didn't answer it, did you?" His eyes are glowing and intense.
"Well..."
"Eneile, you're telling me you answered your door to a mysterious knock at four in the morning? Did you even look out of the window first?"
"Of course I did!" I sputter, slamming my now-empty coffee down on the table. "I'm not an idiot."
Could've fooled me.
"Did you see anyone when you looked through the window?" Surprisingly, Sam's angry eyes aren't for me. He's mad about something else. But what? Shit, is he losing control?
"No."
"Then why the fuck would you open the door?" Sam tells me calmly, cooly, but still making me flinch in my seat for a nano-second before gaining my composure and glaring at him. I shouldn't...
You shouldn't push him.
"I wanted to see who it was."
"Don't ever do that again. They are out there, probably searching for you, and me, and you could have just let them in the front door."
"If they're as powerful as you say they are, I don't think a locked door would stop them. And don't tell me what I can or cannot do. Last time I checked, I wasn't your little lapdog."
"But you are under my protection."
"I don't need your fucking protection!" Unthinking, I throw my empty mug at him, aiming for his stupid judging face. Sam catches it just before it made contact with his nose. His eyes quickly flash a deadly maroon red.
Oh shit.
"What did you say?" Sam hisses, his eyes quickly flash and red irises stab me. He calmly puts his mug on the maple table. "What did you say to me?"
"I don't need you." I realize that the deadly calm of Sam's demonic second side is even more frightening then his rage. What is going on inside his head?
Sam cooly rises from his seat and walks over to me. I hold my breath, my hands clenched under the table. I can't even look him in the eyes, not into those maroon orbs that seem to know my every secret, every fault.
"I could kill you right now."
My eyes go wide but I still can't look up at him. He's hovering over me, his mouth next to my ear. Warm breath washes over my face as he says those words. Sam slides an arm over the back of my chair, his other leans against the table, forming a cage.
Locking you in.
"But I'm not going to kill you...yet." Sam's voice isn't his own. It's taken on a slithery texture. A forked tongue slips out of Sam's mouth and comes into contact with my cheek. He licks all the way from my earlobe to my jaw before lifting his head to smell my hair. Oh God, I'm shaking. I can't hurt him. I can't hurt Sam.
It's not Sam. This is not Sam Reethe.
Finally, I'm able to twist my head around to look at him. Sam isn't there anymore. What's replaced him is a dark figure draped in a midnight cloak that reaches his ankles. The face is obscured, but I can see the faint glint of red inside, the eyes. Razor sharp nails scratch the table, leaving dents. One cold, scaly hand brushes my hair aside to wrap around my neck, squeezing just a little bit, but enough to make me gasp.
"Where's Sam?" I manage to squeak as a throaty chuckle rumble's deep in it's chest.
"Don't worry, Eneile, you'll see him soon enough." The figure adds more pressure to my neck. Soon, I can't breathe and I start to feel my limbs grow limp.
Everything darkens.
End of Chapter Ten Part One
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