The motel Vee chose was slightly nicer than the one we stopped to shower in a couple of days ago. The paint was fresh. The windows were clean. All in all, I was optimistic. Or maybe I was desperate. Hard to tell anymore.
She popped open the center console when the car rocked into park and took three twenties from a bundle of cash. “You two wait here. I’ll get the room. Not letting anyone else get greedy while we’re on a limited cash flow.”
Neither of us got a chance to argue before she opened the door and slammed it behind her.
Finding ourselves alone for the first time since September, I suddenly didn’t know what to say. So much had happened between now and then—both with things I knew and things I didn’t. Where should I begin?
Before I could work up the nerve to say anything, Samson turned around in his seat. His hair, mussed and greasy, stuck up on end. “I’m going to kill Nero when I see him again.”
Samson’s voice, low and unrepentant, turned my stomach. The impetus for such a statement wasn’t lost on me.
“I’m alive, Sam.” Such a thing shouldn’t be a surprise, yet it did surprise me. Chance brought Samson and me together, and chance seemed to be the only thing that kept me on the mortal plane.
He scowled. “But you’re not okay.”
If the image that the Mirror of Truth showed me in Zephyr’s house meant anything, his observation wasn’t a stretch. I’d never been scared of my own reflection before. “No, I’m not okay. But I’m alive, and that will have to do for now.”
My answer didn’t satisfy him. He’d made the same face at the hospital when I’d told him he hurt my feelings for hiding his true origins from me. Like he couldn’t believe something so lame could make me so sad. A smile pulled at my mouth at the thought.
I reached forward and ran my fingers through his hair, his scars tiny ridges along my skin. He twitched but didn’t jerk away. “You need a shower.”
His expression soured. “Zephyr wasn’t generous with amenities.”
“I’m under the impression you were exceedingly difficult to please.”
Samson smirked. “I guess you rubbed off on me, Fancy Pants.”
Heat singed beneath my eyes. Blaming it on the heater wasn’t an option since Vee killed the engine. “I’m not that high maintenance.”
His raised eyebrows said I most definitely was.
The driver’s side door opened again, and Vee stuck her head in. “You two go ahead and go inside. Room thirteen. I’m going to stay out here and make some phone calls.”
Cold wind swept along my neck the instant I opened my door. Too bad I didn’t have a scarf. Or boots. Or clothes that fit. “Thank you.”
Vee ignored me and tossed Samson the keys. “Take a shower, Sammy. You stink.”
He didn’t even bother to argue. He did stink, and the whole car knew it.
The motel consisted of one level. A long, skinny thing tucked off the service road, it likely saw a lot of traffic. Considering the time of year, we were lucky to have a room at all.
My gaze caught on some red tinsel twisted up the white columns holding up the long gallery covering the walkway. Christmas would be a day or two away. I’d have to look at one of their phones to verify the date since I didn’t have one anymore.
The guilt from earlier reemerged as the wind whipped against my cheeks. Gerard would probably be alone for Christmas this year, and he’d had no idea where I’d gone. He’d only have Eliza’s vague message to think on as he ate takeout alone in his condo.
Samson cleared his throat, forcing me to bury the guilt back inside where it belonged. “Where’s your stuff?” he asked as he looked in the empty back seat.
“In the Mercedes.” My poor car. I’d probably never figure out where it had been taken. Probably burned to a crisp in a field somewhere. “Quinn and his undead friends intentionally wrecked into it on my way out of Manhattan. Then they threw me in a trunk. I didn’t exactly have time to grab my suitcase.”
His face darkened. I’d forgotten how dangerous he looked when he was mad. It was in those brief moments his demonic heritage didn’t seem so distant. “I’m going to kill Quinn too.”
Samson meant it, and I found the idea didn’t bother me.
Room thirteen wasn’t far from Vee’s Audi. Samson unlocked the door, revealing two full-size beds with floral comforters, a lamp with a crinkly shade, and a small television on a faux-wood dresser. He sighed. “Brings back memories, huh?”
“For me? Yes. You were unconscious at the last motel we stayed in for a vast majority of the time, and I’m not convinced you could actually see anything when you woke up.”
“Ha.” He waited until I was through the door and closed it.
The generous heater staved off the chill as I peeled off my coat. A hot shower would be divine. But someone needed it more than me.
“Shower.” I pointed to the only other door in the place. The closet didn’t have one, which was kind of weird.
“Trying to get rid of me?” he asked but kept his path to the bathroom anyway.
“You take fast showers. You won’t be gone long.”
That sounded a lot more intimate than I thought it would. But we’d technically lived together for a month, so it made sense I’d know things like that.
Samson didn’t respond and disappeared into the bathroom. The shower started soon after.
I removed the mirror from the inside pocket of my coat, once again taken aback by my hideous face when I gazed into it. If Samson still found me attractive, if he even had at all, then I wasn’t sure how he still did. God, I looked like a zombie.
Well, not a real zombie, since I’d seen those now. At least my skin was intact and not super gross.
I collapsed on the edge of one of the beds and narrowed my eyes at my reflection. My skin wasn’t gross, but it was dry. And bruised, still. Too bad my moisturizer was in my totaled Mercedes.
Tired of looking at my sad excuse for a mug, I set the mirror facedown on the nightstand. I teased the elastic from my hair with my fingers, and my honey blond hair fell against my cheeks. Some of the tension in my head, blissfully, eased.
Sleep. I wanted to sleep so bad.
“You okay?”
My breath hitched at Samson’s voice. He stood along the other side of the bed, cramming his dirty clothes inside his murder backpack, wet hair plastered to his forehead. Either he’d taken an extremely fast shower, or I’d fallen so far into my own head I didn’t realize how much time had passed. Neither would surprise me.
“Yeah.” I stood, rubbing my hands along my biceps. He had on a black T-shirt—short-sleeves, for once—and clean jeans. “It’s so cold.”
“Take a shower,” he suggested, unhelpfully. He looked up at me through his thick lashes, damp skin glistening from the lamplight.
I swallowed when a familiar heat curled in my stomach. “Good idea.”
“Here.” He pulled a wad of fabric out of the backpack and tossed it at me. It hit me in the chest, and surprise almost kept me from catching it. A shirt. After a quick whiff, I determined it was a clean, albeit wrinkly, one. “Go. You stink too.”
I scrunched my nose in response but decided not to argue. Instead, I marched into the shower and melted under the hot water.
Another day on the run down. Who knew how many more to go.
My time beneath the showerhead lasted until my skin pruned. Then, almost too reluctantly, I towel dried off, loathe to leave the steamy room.
But then I pulled on Samson’s shirt and all fatigue left me. Last time I’d worn one of his shirts, I hadn’t known him very long, and I’d just watched him mind-control a fae into committing suicide. I wasn’t entirely sure he even realized I’d worn it. A lot of things had happened since then, and wearing nothing but his shirt that hit above my knees and a pair of panties felt different this time. Felt intimate.
“Get a grip, Tilly,” I muttered to myself and grabbed the doorknob, wet hair sticking to the back of my neck.
Samson had allegedly gone to Zephyr to get that ring for me, which meant he cared about me in some way. For my own sanity, I needed to figure out how, which meant I needed to be brave. Matilda Ashby and brave didn’t often go together, but I needed them to.
When I opened the door, I’d half expected Samson to be asleep, or at least lying down. Instead, he was sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at something in his hand.
He turned his gaze to me, eyes sweeping up my legs before stopping on my face. Great. My face was red again. What did he see when he looked at me? I hope it was better than the haggard reflection I saw in the Mirror of Truth.
“Feel better?” he asked.
I nodded, unsure what to say. Dang it. I needed to start this conversation, but how? How did one ask another person if they were interested romantically without spontaneously combusting?
Samson cleared his throat and held out Zephyr’s gold ring on his palm. “Do you know what this is?”
So much for being brave. I pattered over to the bed, feet slapping against the thin carpet.
“Zephyr mentioned it protected the mind.” The mattress bowed under my weight as I sat down, making sure to keep a respectable distance just in case he didn’t want me close. “He said he got it for Cordelia…when she was with you.”
He nodded slowly, gaze glued to the ring. While I didn’t know the whole story of Samson and Cordelia, I knew enough. It took everything in me to not grab his hand, to say that I understood that pain. Richard had tried to marry me and have me killed. It was his fault my life had derailed to the point of being unrecognizable.
But I hadn’t loved Richard. I hadn’t even liked him, really. Something about Samson’s situation with Cordelia told me that hadn’t been the case for him, so I kept quiet instead.
“I was twenty-one. Thought I was hot shit. After a nasty job, I went to the bar with Adam.” Samson kept his eyes on the ring. His hand shook just enough for me to see it, and I wondered if the trepidation came from the mention of his sort-of brother Adam or the fact he told me this story at all. “He had to take a piss, and while he was gone, a woman walked up to me. She was gorgeous. Otherworldly, almost. Chicks like that don’t go to shithole bars without an ulterior motive, but I was a dumbass whose head was too damn thick to remember that.”
A drop of water slid down my neck, chasing a chill ghosting my arms. Thanks to Zephyr, I knew how this story would end, but the details made it so much worse.
“I thought it might be a trap at first.” Samson pulled a long slow breath through his nostrils. “But…but then she touched me, and I couldn’t hear anything. That had never happened to me before.” He laughed, but no joy lingered there. “I thought it was fate or something. Like maybe there was a god somewhere, and he thought I’d suffered enough. Vee thought something was up from the start. Adam gave her the benefit of the doubt. I saw Cordelia every chance I could. Anytime a job took me around Texas, I always found my way to her.”
The remorse in his voice reached deep within me, leaving behind the worst parts of anger and regret. Vee had mentioned a desire to hunt this Cordelia woman down and send Zephyr her head. Listening to this made me want to join her.
Samson’s throat bobbed, his mind far away from the motel room and me in his shirt. “One night Cordelia asked me to stay with her, and I did.” The next breath he choked down was heavy and sharp. “Woke up with a knife at my throat. Would’ve died, but she didn’t push hard enough.”
My jaw dropped. His neck scar. The one I’d accidentally grazed when I cut his hair a couple months ago. What had he said? He’d jerked away from me right after. After I’d worried he didn’t trust me, he tried to put me at ease.
“I do,” Samson had said, firm. “I just…forget sometimes.”
Suddenly that interaction in the bathroom of my condo meant more than it had seconds ago.
“Cordelia tried to explain it away. Said she didn’t have a choice and other bullshit. Then she showed me this ring and tried to appease me with her thoughts. That she felt bad. That she cared.” He plucked the ring from his palm and pinched it between two fingers. “I didn’t trust her, but I couldn’t kill her. So I didn’t. She left with her life, taking what little trust I had left with her.”
My plan had been to stay quiet until he was done, but I couldn’t. Like that moment in the hospital after the attack in the Horseshoe Club, my heart shattered into tiny pieces. How could one man suffer so much loss and betrayal and still find the will to stand afterward? “I’m so sorry, Sam.”
“I told myself I’d never do that again. I’d never, ever put myself in that position again.” He turned his head just enough to look at me in his periphery. “I didn’t think I had any trust left in me at all until you kept my body safe after that fight with the Unseelie fae.”
My eyebrows pinched together. “Keeping you safe was the right thing to do.”
“I know you think that kind of decency is common, but it’s not.” He leaned over and nudged me with his elbow. “For fuck’s sake, Tilly, you cleaned all the blood off my face. You tucked me in.”
My cheeks blistered. “Because—”
“Because you are good.” Samson chuckled, this time with a spark of genuine happiness. “You’re nice. Selfless.”
The people and zombies I hacked apart in the farmhouse would probably disagree. “I’m not so sure I am anymore.”
“Everything you did, you did for me. You put yourself in danger for me. It’s my fault. I should’ve never left you alone. I should’ve taken you with me. I just… I guess I tried to keep the bullshit that I am away from the goodness that you are, and it bit me in the ass.” Samson stared at the ring again. “I never wanted this to happen. I wanted you safe in New York, working your normal job, and having normal conversations. Doing business deals with humans…not the goddamn fae.”
I crossed my arms. “If you want me to apologize for coming to find you, I’m not going to.”
Samson shifted, causing me to slide toward him on the mattress. My arm and thigh smashed into his. When I caught a smirk, I melted into him and propped my head against his shoulder. Should’ve known he’d done that on purpose.
He held out the ring to me. “Here.”
“No.” I pushed his hand away. “I’m sorry you were imprisoned over the thing, but I already told you I don’t care that you’re a cambion. I don’t care that you can read my mind.”
“I care.” Samson shoved past my hand and stuck the ring in my face. “I’m not starting a relationship with you with a power imbalance.”
My soul left my body. “You want a relationship with me? Like you want me around on purpose?”
“I didn’t get incarcerated in Zephyr’s house because I wanted something temporary, Matilda.”
A pleasant warmth penetrated my chest, magnifying the second I dared meet his gaze. A drop of water ran down his temple and slid past his jaw.
Emboldened by his uncharacteristic confession, I took the ring. His fingers still trembled lightly. Afraid.
That would not do.
“Then you’re in luck because I’m not interested in temporary either.” I stood up and set the ring on the nightstand.
He scowled. “Hey—”
“I’ll put it on later. Right now, I need to tell you something very important, and I need you to know I mean it.”
His brow twitched. Confused.
Like I did at the hospital after his confession, after he told me the truth about what he was, I held his face in my hands.
“You scared me to death. I thought you were dead.” I stood between his legs and rubbed underneath his eyes with my thumbs, the tips brushing his lashes. “Next time you do something verifiably crazy, I need you to tell me first. Especially if the reason you’re doing it involves me in any capacity.”
He dropped his gaze to his knees.
“And I missed you. Terribly. If you leave me for months without a word again, I’ll be mad at you.”
“Oh no.” Samson slid his hands along the backs of my thighs. Heat simmered in the pit of my stomach. “Can’t have that.”
“You should be terrified. I am very scary when I’m mad.” My body listed forward, hands slipping from his cheeks to his shoulders.
“Uh-huh. Like one of those little dogs that yip. The poofy ones.” He pursed his lips. “Do you still have Cat?”
“Of course I still have Cat. Eliza is watching her for me.”
“I didn’t know since I stole her and everything.”
He continued to move his hands up my legs. I shivered. “She kept me company.”
Before I could comprehend what was happening, Samson wrapped one of his hands around the back of my thighs and planted the other between my shoulder blades. A shriek ripped from my mouth as he tossed me on the bed, one that quickly morphed into a laugh while he loomed over me, propped up on an elbow. “Her owner was a bitch. I refuse to feel shame for it.”
“I don’t think you are capable of feeling shame for anything.” My lips twisted into a smile. “I remember your comment from the car. Did you stop smoking?”
“Yeah. That’s why I have the sunflower seeds. I read it makes quitting easier.” His cheeks reddened. How cute. “You griped at me too much when I left. Didn’t want you yelling at me when I came back.”
“I’m not sorry that I don’t want you to die of lung cancer.”
“Surprised I lived long enough for you to find out I quit.” His eyes, bright with something I couldn’t identify, darted around my face. He brushed some hair off my forehead, fingers hanging on my jaw. “Thank you for fighting for me.”
“Someone should every once in a while.”
He leaned closer, and my body angled to match his. “Even though I was dumbass, can I kiss you?”
My heart thundered. I thought he’d never ask. “You’re touching me, and I don’t have that ring on, so I know you hear what I’m thinking.”
“Yeah, I can hear you.” Samson leaned closer, mouth close to my ear. “And you’re a pervert.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Well, fine. I guess if you’re not—”
“Interested? I am. Very.” He cradled the side of face in his palm, the tip of his nose ghosting my cheek.
Then, before I could get in another quip, he pressed his mouth to mine.
The last time he’d kissed me, it had been timid in the way first kisses were. We both hadn’t known exactly what we’d gotten ourselves into, or if it would work out in the end. If he’d die trying to kill Frank. If I’d see him again at all.
This time was desperate, both of us in equal measure. He invaded my mouth, and I ran my hands along his neck and the back of his head, fingers threading through his hair. A moan echoed in my throat.
It encouraged him. Samson grabbed my hip and jerked me close. He pulled away from my mouth just enough to speak, lips a breath away from mine. “You’re so pretty.”
I smiled against him. “Not according to that mirror.”
“Fuck that mirror.” He kissed me again. Hard. “You’ll always be beautiful to me.”
Desire billowed from my head down to my toes. And other areas. I knew I wasn’t ugly, but no one had ever told me I was beautiful when I looked like…well, like this. Being surrounded by superficial jerks my whole life, I wouldn’t get compliments unless I’d been done up to the nines.
But Samson wasn’t one of those jerks.
He grabbed my butt and squeezed. Should’ve known that thought would get him going.
My hands, tangled up in his shirt, sought purchase as I lost myself in him. I threw my leg over his, pulling him as close as I could. He skimmed the back of leg, trailing his hand up. Oh, God. This man was going to undo me—
A loud bang echoed from the door. If Samson hadn’t been holding me, I’d have flown off the bed. “You have sixty seconds before I’m coming in, and no one better be naked.”
Vee.
“Come back in an hour,” Samson yelled back before pressing a kiss against my neck. I tried to push him away, but he wrapped me up in his arms, pinning me down. If Vee walked in here and saw me like this, I’d die. Embarrassing.
“Can’t. I’ve got dinner.” The sound of a key slipping into the lock hit my ears. Samson, thankfully, let me go so I could straighten my shirt. “And Cliff called. He’s not dead.”