Samantha Watkins: Chronicles of an Extraordinary Ordinary Life (Samantha Watkins Series Book 1)

by Aurélie Venem

  “Do you want me to give her my blood?”

  “She belongs to me.”

  “I hope you know what you are doing.”

  “Do not lecture me. According to what Karl has said, you and I are in the same situation.”

  Huh? Was I still dreaming or were those the vague voices of Phoenix and François? I didn’t understand any of what they were saying. What were they even talking about?

  I slowly opened my eyes. Phoenix was leaning over me and rolling up the sleeve of his shirt.

  “Sam, you need to drink my blood.”

  What? After what just happened? Out of the question! Since he’d surprised us in each other’s arms, François must already be telling himself that there was more than friendship between us, so I didn’t want to add fuel to the fire.

  I shook my head.

  “You are so stubborn! You have a broken jaw and several broken ribs. François also thinks that you have some sort of head injury. If you want a slow and painful recovery, fine. But if you want to speed up the process, you do not have a choice.”

  Busted jaw . . . I must look a mess. I really didn’t want to suffer for a long time needlessly. Good grief.

  Since I couldn’t really talk, I nodded my assent. Phoenix cut into his wrist with his fangs. Blood dripping from the wound, he put his wrist up to my mouth.

  Unfortunately, my jaw was so painful I couldn’t open my mouth enough to drink the precious liquid.

  “Phoenix, she cannot drink. You have to make your blood flow harder,” said François.

  “I know. The carotid?”

  “Good idea.”

  I didn’t understand how that would work, but I wasn’t thinking straight. When Phoenix used my knife to cut his own throat, I caught on. I tried to pull away from him as a torrent of blood gushed from his neck wound, but my body refused to budge. And then he lay across me, imprisoning me with his weight without crushing me. I didn’t dare even breathe.

  “Sam, healing you will weaken me . . . We do not have a choice. We have to proceed with the exchange of blood. At the right moment, I shall have to bite you too.”

  Horrified, I tried again to pull away, but it was a wasted effort.

  “It will be fine,” said François, who had stepped aside.

  It will be fine? Was that a joke? I was going to drink his blood, and he was going to drink mine? At the same time? I remembered all too well the terrible pain I’d felt when he’d bitten my arm! I didn’t want to pick up where we left off.

  But how could I help Phoenix investigate the disappearances if I was weak and hopped up on pain meds? I didn’t have a choice. I’d truly had enough of never having a choice.

  My nod gave him the signal to begin. He leaned over and offered me his neck. Disgusted, I placed my hands on his shoulders and started to drink the red liquid that flowed heavily from his neck. Like the last time, my body temperature heated up; like the last time, disgust gave way to contentment and then . . . the desire for more. I drank with abandon, pleasure taking hold of me and pushing the pain far, far from my consciousness. Satisfied, I took a break between two mouthfuls, sighing with well-being.

  I shuddered when two canines sunk into my flesh and I felt my blood flowing out of me. It was surprising that it wasn’t at all painful. On the contrary, something incredible was happening . . . or rather something incredibly embarrassing . . .

  All the barriers and taboos connected to my upbringing were broken down in that instant. It was as though every fiber of my being was vibrating under the pleasure that was taking over. Eyes closed, I felt his lips like a passionate kiss pressing against my skin, drinking in my very life . . . and I wanted more.

  Not able to stop myself, I grabbed a fistful of Phoenix’s hair, pulled on it with one hand while with the other I dug my fingers into his back, all while arching my spine. I got a deep and satisfied growl in response, and I felt one of his hands slide under me to maintain his grip.

  Electrified by his response, I gripped the fistful of hair harder, making him pull back and exposing his throat again. He let it happen, and before swooping down on his wound, I noticed that his eyes were literally ablaze, charged not with violence, but with desire . . .

  When I started to drink his blood again, Phoenix let a small moan escape and buried his face in my hair, breathing in my scent.

  To distribute his weight on top of me, I’d had to spread my legs; that position had the effect of an electric shock, and my hand wandered from his back . . . lower and lower . . .

  Impatient, he changed positions and bit me on the other side, grabbing one of my thighs and raising it over his hip. A hurricane was brewing in my lower regions, reinforced by the sensation of his tongue licking my wound eagerly and that of our two bodies undulating so sensually against each other.

  Suddenly, the explosion that washed over me made me arch my back violently, and I wrapped my legs around his waist as if to hold him prisoner there forever. I cried out in ecstasy, and he held my thighs firmly against his pelvis, joining me in incredible pleasure . . .

  I hadn’t felt my bones knit back together, but I knew when we finished the exchange that everything was like before. More or less.

  Falling quickly back to reality, I was paralyzed. Phoenix wasn’t overconfident either; I felt him flinch before disengaging from my neck. Slowly he got up, the lower half of his face and his shirt covered in blood. I noticed too that his shirt was in tatters. Shame gripped me in an oppressive vise.

  “Sam?” Phoenix kneeled beside me.

  “Just a second.”

  Everything had gotten out of control so quickly. My evening should have proceeded simply: two friends, a movie, and a good night of sleep. But instead of that, I’d fought with Phoenix’s best friend and ruptured their friendship; Karl had literally beaten me to a pulp; and to have any chance of healing, I’d surrendered myself to Phoenix. The blood exchange had led me to behave like a nymphomaniac in serious need of sex. It was all hard to digest . . .

  A fraction of a second later, I sent my fist flying into my boss’s face with the force of my bitterness. How dare he not warn me about the effect that a blood exchange would have on us? How could he have allowed me to behave like that, me who trembled at the thought of kissing a man for the first time? How . . . ?

  Good heavens. Good heavens. What an idiot! I couldn’t help shed a few tears even as I was clenching my teeth to not cry out in pain, that was how much the hand I’d used to hit him hurt. Why hadn’t I learned from the last time? He’d again taken the hit without flinching or showing the least sign of pain, and that irritated me even more.

  “I . . . you . . . I . . .” I was so angry that I couldn’t even put my insults in order.

  “Calm down, Samantha. Phoenix healed you. The blood exchange causes that kind of reaction. You should not feel ashamed,” François said as he stepped closer.

  I’d forgotten that he was still there.

  François recoiled when I turned to him, as though he were afraid of me. I must have looked like a mad cannibal with all that blood spattered on my face and clothes.

  Phoenix hadn’t moved, simply waiting for my verdict. Slowly, I turned to him and stared at him without mercy.

  “I know why you did it, but I’m angry that you didn’t warn me . . . again. I’m going to take a shower and go to sleep. I don’t want to hear another word about what happened here. And the next time I’m hurt, I’ll go to the hospital.”

  I should have thanked him, but I did nothing of the sort. Anyway, I think he’d understood well enough. As for a discussion about Karl’s departure, that would have to wait for the next day.

  As I left the room, I heard Phoenix and François talking.

  “What happened between you goes well beyond the blood exchange, and you know it. That is why you could not say anything to her.”

  “Be quiet, François.”

  A few steps more, and I was too far away to hear them. It was impossible that that conversation was real. Stifling a
yawn, I decided that fatigue was playing tricks on me and it was better to go to sleep before hearing voices like Joan of Arc . . .

  While I slept, I dreamed of the blood exchange. The dreams, each more erotic than the one before, made me crazy, and I decided to get up. It was already four o’clock in the afternoon.

  Having no desire whatsoever to go to Scarborough to hear Angela wax eloquent about her handsome François, or to see Matthew stare at me with a mixture of compassion and temptation, I preferred to stay near home and just took a short drive for a change of scenery. Before going back, I stopped at a food truck to buy a cheesy sandwich and fries to eat back at the manor. The vendor stared at me curiously, noticing that I was wearing a scarf even though it was hot out.

  It bothered me too, but when I’d looked in the mirror, I’d been really annoyed by the two little red holes on both sides of my neck, so I’d decided to hide them. I hoped that the fact I couldn’t see them anymore might even allow me to forget the unfortunate event that caused them.

  When Phoenix and François turned up in the kitchen, they found me devouring my meal. Seeing my boss made the memory of feeling his body against mine come back in full force. I managed to control my embarrassment. After all, we’d decided to act as though it were nothing.

  “Bon appétit,” François said.

  “Merci, j’ai toujours aimé les sandwichs bien gras qui font dresser les cheveux sur la tête des nutritionnistes. Après tout, il n’y pas de mal à se faire du bien,” I responded.

  He seemed thrilled that I was fluent enough to describe how my sandwiches would make nutritionists cringe.

  “You speak French?”

  “No one ever came into my library, so I busied myself as best I could. I guess you could say I’m a bit of a Francophile,” I said, stuffing a huge piece of bread into my mouth.

  Phoenix chuckled. “You learned the language, but as for table manners, that remains to be seen.”

  Indeed, I’d just wiped the corner of my full mouth, where a bit of cheese had escaped. Not letting myself get flustered by my boss’s comment, I said, “Maybe if you cooked me something to eat for once, I wouldn’t have to go buy a sandwich.”

  Except that with all the bread I was still chewing, my answer was completely incomprehensible.

  François changed the subject to something far less trivial.

  “What are we doing this evening?”

  Phoenix’s face got dark. “Nothing. Because there is nothing to do. These men are too strong. Only the Greats can stop them.”

  A silence fell over the kitchen, each of us lost in our own dark thoughts.

  “Because I didn’t know how to control myself, I made you lose an asset, and a friend. I’m sorry.”

  We had to clear the air about Karl’s departure at some point.

  “You are not even thirty years old, and your reactions are led by your emotions and your humanity,” Phoenix said. “Karl does not have that excuse. Furthermore, he never should have attacked you when I warned him that he should not disrespect you . . . In the end, I cannot forgive him for what he accused me of . . . or for hurting you.”

  His expression darkened even more. His relationship with Karl wasn’t going to be fixed anytime soon. He thought of him like a brother, and I, not having brothers or sisters, I couldn’t imagine the sense of loss Phoenix must be feeling. Since he was right next to me, I took his hand and squeezed. When he looked at me, surprised by my sudden change in attitude, I smiled gently.

  Suddenly my phone rang, making me jump. Even though I didn’t recognize the number, I answered all the same.

  “Hello?”

  “Miss Jones?”

  “Who are you and where did you get this number?” I said defensively.

  My two vampires stiffened and pricked up their ears.

  “Bobby the Eel. You told me to contact you if we had news about the Chinese gang who’s kidnapping people.”

  “I hope you called me for a reason.”

  “Yes. Important people have no time to waste. I’ve got some information that could help you, you and your boss, find those mafia guys. Come find me tonight at Sunnie’s, midnight. I don’t like phones.”

  “Very well, we’ll be there. I hope that your information is worth it,” I declared with a tone of warning that didn’t escape Bobby the Eel.

  “Don’t you worry. We’ll catch them. And if my guys and me can help you, so much the better.”

  “Later, then.”

  I hung up, and as I turned to Phoenix and François, I couldn’t help smiling.

  “Business is picking up again.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Reunion

  “Who is this Bobby the Eel?” asked François.

  “He is the leader of a small biker gang in Kerington that we met when visiting Thirsty. Sam won their respect and convinced them, for a fee, to do some digging on their end. I did not tell you or Karl about them because I did not really think that the arrangement would produce anything.”

  Thanks for your vote of confidence, boss. That was a pleasure to hear.

  “I hope this doesn’t surprise you,” I said, selfishly forcing him to compliment me.

  Phoenix rolled his eyes.

  “I recognize that your devious mind and your bizarre ideas may be able to help us.”

  Such bad faith.

  “Would it really kill you to thank me?” I grumbled.

  “Let’s hope that this information will lead us to the blood traffickers. Anyway, we do not have a choice but to listen to this gangster,” François said, intervening before Phoenix and I started a quarrel.

  “We still have time. I shall go prepare some things,” he said as he left the kitchen.

  I wanted to finish my sandwich. I was determined to fill up my stomach so I would have plenty of energy for the night ahead. François sat down next to me.

  “Samantha, may I ask you a question?”

  “Mm-hm.” If I’d opened my mouth to answer, I would have risked spitting out my food and coming across as a cavewoman.

  “Do you think that a vampire and a human . . . ?”

  There was no need for him to finish his sentence for me to know that he was talking about Angela. I swallowed my food.

  “The way you and Angela look at each other proves that true love between vampires and humans is possible, no matter what anyone says. But there are a number of obstacles that will crop up, and I’m afraid the situation has the risk of ending in broken hearts.”

  He looked discouraged, which saddened me. Maybe I’d been too honest, and I tried to take it back.

  “But that’s no reason not to try. You and Angela are a lot alike. You’ll make a good couple.”

  François seemed relieved and looked at me with true affection.

  “And you and Phoenix?”

  I felt my cheeks burn red. “I already told you . . .”

  “You are not in love with him, I know. But clinging to the illusion of your friendship is futile. Your connection is deeper than that.”

  “You sound just like Karl. What’s gotten into you, all of you? You want us to be in love at all costs. I know perfectly well that that would lead nowhere, that it’s impossible. Can’t you be happy for us to just be friends? Phoenix is my friend and my boss and that’s all.”

  “If you want to keep deluding yourself, please do, but let me say one thing. The blood exchange causes an increase in sexual desire between partners, but it is not powerful enough to set off a reaction as passionate as the one you two shared. I did not say this to you yesterday so you had a chance to calm down, but it is the truth.”

  I had trouble swallowing. He was suggesting that our unconscious minds had communicated during the blood exchange, revealing our true feelings. I pictured myself again, legs wrapped around Phoenix, moaning in ecstasy. For a single second, I’d thought I’d found paradise in his arms . . . I remembered the voices I’d heard in the hallway: François had been making the same comment to Phoenix, who had answered h
im curtly by telling him to shut up. However, that couldn’t be true; my hearing wasn’t that sensitive.

  I shook my head, it was just a hallucination; François was mistaken. Phoenix was everything to me, but for all that, this wasn’t love I was feeling for him. As for the blood exchange, given my reaction the first time he’d made me drink blood from his wrist, drinking it directly from a major artery, in his neck, must have . . . intoxicated me as if I’d had one drink too many, and that explained our behavior. There.

  Perked up by this reasoning, I looked François right in the eyes and said coldly, “I don’t mean to offend you, because of your virtuous principles, but I think that even you don’t know the effect that a blood exchange can have. So stop inventing foolish romantic feelings for us and spend your time with the very real ones that are pushing you toward Angela! I’ll see you in a bit.” Then I left the kitchen.

  He still had the last word.

  “Do not say I did not warn you.”

  The first half of the trip to Kerington was made in complete silence. I wanted to keep my distance from the two vampires, so I’d settled into the backseat and cut myself off from them by putting on headphones and listening to my MP3 player. Eventually Phoenix and François began a conversation, but not wanting to hear them, I just turned up the volume. Despite the singer’s howling in my ears, I could hear the vampires with a clarity that annoyed me.

  “Do you have to shout at each other to make yourselves heard? Can’t I even listen to my music in peace?” I complained, exasperated.

  They looked at each other, surprised, then François signaled to me to take off my headphones. The sound that was coming out of them was quite simply intolerable, that was how loud I’d set the volume. I turned the player off.

  “You can hear us over the racket of that device of auditory torture?” Phoenix asked.

  “Racket? You were talking so loudly I had to turn up the volume. It’s your fault!” I exclaimed, outraged.

  “We were talking very low precisely so we would not bother you. A normal human ear could not have heard us,” François said, amazed.

  “What?”