Page 40 of Witch's Wolf

“That drop was massive.” Her voice cracks. “Three hundred, maybe four hundred feet. He never stood a chance.”

The silence that follows is deafening.

“I’m sorry, but…” I trail off, brushing away a stray tear tracking down her cheek. Her skin is warm, damp beneath my touch. “What does any of this have to do with me?”

Her breath shudders. Then, suddenly?—

“Sam, I saw you fall off that cliff!” The words rip from her like a wound torn open. Her chin lifts, fire flashing in her eyes. “For a second, it was Bolivia all over again. That same helplessness. That same drop. But this time, you survived.” Her throat bobs as she swallows hard. “Michael didn’t.”

The fight drains from her. Her head thuds back against the door, her lips pressing together like she’s trying to keep something else from spilling out.

“And?” I push, my voice lower now, edged with something raw.

Her hands tighten in her lap.

“Seeing it happen to you made everything so damn clear,” she whispers. “I infect people, Sam.” Her breath hitches, her fingers curling into the fabric of her jeans. “Michael was the man I loved, and look what happened to him.” Her eyes flick to mine, shining with something close to desperation. “I don’t want you to have the same fate.”

Realization slams into me, heavy and hard.

“That’s why you pushed me away.” The words are bitter on my tongue. “That’s why you left me in that hospital room.” My jaw clenches, my pulse pounding. “You were scared. Scared I’d end up like him.”

She flinches but doesn’t deny it. I drag in a breath, steadying the storm inside me.

“It’s a hell of a coincidence, I’ll give you that. You fall for two men, and both have the same kind of accident. What are the odds?” I exhale slowly, searching her face, searching for something to hold onto. “But we can’t let that coincidence ruin what we have.”

Something shifts in her expression. Something sharp and cutting. Her shoulders square, her eyes darken, her voice steadier than before.

“What do we have, Sam?” she challenges, her chin lifting. “A long-distance relationship?”

“Chemistry,” I say without thinking. My throat constricts. “Connection. You’re right about the long-distance thing. It won’t be easy, but I don’t care, Erica. What we have is real. Don’t take that from me. I’m just starting to like it.”

She flinches like I struck her. Her gaze shifts, sliding away from me, her shoulders curling inward.

“Leave, Sam,” she whispers. “Please, go. Leave now, while you can.”

A slow, sharp ache spreads through my guts, twisting deeper with every second she refuses to look at me.

“Fine, I will,” I growl, shoving to my feet.

The air is thick, suffocating. I need to move. Need to breathe. Need to get the hell out of here before I do something stupid. Something I know I’ll regret. I hesitate for half a second longer and let out a humorless laugh and shake my head.

“Here’s a tip, Erica. Next time you want someone, don’t let him know. The poor bastard will feel like a fool when you throw him away.” I exhale sharply, my fists clenching at my sides. “I know I feel like one now.”

The last thing I do before walking out is slam my fist against the door. The impact rattles through my arm, but it’s nothing compared to the frustration in my head. I storm out of her space. Away from the mess she’s made of me. She played me. Led me on, strung me along, then cut me off like I was nothing.

I could understand trauma. I could even understand fear. But that doesn’t excuse this. The two accidents are similar, so what? Accidents happen all the time. A miscalculation, a slick road, a second of bad luck, and that’s all it takes. It doesn’t mean she’s cursed. It doesn’t mean I’m doomed. But it does mean she was never really mine.

If I needed another reason not to trust humans, she just handed it to me on a silver platter.

22

SAM

Driving to New York City and back was a complete waste of time, energy, and fuel.

I grip the wheel tighter and tighter until my knuckles ache from the pressure. If I had any sense, I’d focus on something else, but my thoughts circle back to her over and over.

Taking Erica to bed would’ve made tolerating the city a hell of a lot easier. When someone is so damn stubborn, so hell-bent on believing whatever the hell they want, they strip you of the will to fight. I knew arguing was pointless, so I walked. Turned my back on her and left her to her convictions. I hope to God I never have to deal with her again.

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