“You have to consider that maybe he can control her from afar. She is very new. Closer to real death than you,” Roberto pointed out. “And he can control the true dead. ”
Cian bristled at this suggestion and Samantha felt her fear elevate to a new level. She had never seen him this agitated before. If anything, she would have described Cian as sensible, easy going and calm by nature. But now he looked dark, a bit angry, and defensive.
“She's afraid of him. She nearly died tonight,” Cian retorted.
“It could have been a ruse to gain your sympathy,” Roberto suggested, calmly.
“Yeah, what he said,” Samantha cut in.
“I was there. I saw what happened. I know that what she is saying is the truth. I will help her again tomorrow night and maybe the night after. I don't know. I just need to make sure that when s
he leaves here she doesn't walk straight into his trap. ”
“What if you are in his trap already?” Samantha asked in a low voice.
Cian shoved his chair out of his way and stalked past them, toward the sleeping chamber.
“Cian, she has a point,” Roberto called after him.
“I've made my decision,” Cian answered sharply, and opened the chamber and disappeared inside.
“Do you see what I mean?” Samantha stomped her foot at Roberto.
“What are you going to do about it?” Roberto asked, and arched an eyebrow. “You and I are his human servants and we do as he says. ”
“I'm his fiancée! Not his servant. ”
Roberto just shook his head wearily at her and walked away.
Realizing Cian hadn't even kissed her goodnight, she felt tears brimming in her eyes. Frustration eating at her, she grabbed her purse and headed for the door.
What was she going to do about it? Well, she wasn't sure. But she was going to do something.
***
Curled up on Cian's bed, Amaliya fell into a deep, yet restless sleep. Traumatized by the night's events, her dreams slowly turned to blood and violence.
Cian was just settling in beside her when she sat up gasping with fear. Her hands clutched the bedclothes as she looked around the chamber in terror. His hand gently touched her arm and she looked at him with fright in her eyes.
Her sluggish heart was beating harder than it had in days. She pressed her hands between her breasts, feeling its harsh thumping. Leaning over, she rested her forehead on her drawn up knees.
“What did you dream?” Cian asked softly.
“I was dying. ”
She could vividly remember the way her hot blood had sprayed the professor's clothing as he savagely tore into her. Her own heart had betrayed her and continued to pump her blood out in rhythmic spurts.
She felt Cian put an arm about her shoulders and leaned toward her. “Your mortal death?”
“Yes. ” She turned her head, rested her cheek on her knee, and stared at him. “I was bleeding out so fast. I could feel my life draining out of me. ”
Cian's fingers gently moved her hair back from her face, and he asked in a very tender tone, “Can you tell me what happened next?”
Blinking, she exhaled slowly, emptying her dead lungs, then nodded. “I think I blacked out. I remember coming to on the ground. I felt very cold. He was leaning over me and whispering words in another language. I could see. . . ” She struggled for words. The image had come to her so vividly in her dreams, but it was fading away. “His eyes were white. Completely white and I could see that his shadow was somehow. . . um. . . like it was reaching into me and making my heart beat and my lungs breathe. ”
“Like he was keeping you alive?”
“Yeah. With some sort of voodoo magic or something. Then he held his wrist over my lips and his blood began to drop into my mouth. I started to choke, but he kept trying to get me to swallow. ”