Unleashed (7 page)

Malcolm stood tall, collecting himself, and grasped his friend in the handshake of a warrior. “Thank you, my Prince, and please give my best to my uncle.”

“I will go to the members of the council and inform them of your situation. Please contact me right away if there are any more appearances from your seagull interloper.” Richard turned to go, but stopped quickly and said, “Oh, and Malcolm. Good luck on your date tonight.” Then with a teasing smile, he bowed quickly and vanished in the ocean breeze.

Malcolm shook his head, smiling, but it quickly faded when he saw Samantha. She stood in the doorway of her studio, a look of complete horror on her face.

Malcolm ducked inside, leaving his balcony empty. He knew she'd seen Richard vanish. If she asked about it, he was going to have to tell her something. He'd have to. He couldn't lie to her. She'd been lied to for her entire life, and he was determined not to perpetuate that problem. He was her mate, and he needed her to trust him. He had to earn it, and time was running out.

He went upstairs to get ready for his first real date, preoccupied with what Richard had said. Her mother had been the only human killed by the Caedo, a casualty of their war against his people. Gratefully, they hadn't come after Sam…yet. She showed no outward signs of Amoveo traits, except for the eyes. He would have to be very careful and more alert than ever. If Samantha was harmed because of him, he would never forgive himself.

***

Samantha had totally lost track of time out in the studio. When she finally did look at her watch, it was a quarter past six. Seeing how late it had gotten, the inevitable panic set in. She had less than an hour to get ready for her date with Malcolm, let alone find something to wear that didn't make her feel like a whale. Finding the right outfit was all about the state of mind. A bad mood could make a woman feel twenty pounds heavier. Sam pushed sweaty strands of hair off her face as she packed up her tools.

Somehow, this man made her more aware of her appearance than anyone else in her entire life. Not necessarily in a bad way, just
more
. She finished putting away her supplies and closed up her studio. She gave a quick glance over to Malcolm's house. She saw a very tall man with long dark hair standing on the balcony speaking with Malcolm. She shielded her eyes from the brilliant sunlight and watched them for a moment, wondering if they were related. Even at this distance, she could sense a similarity between the two men. Then the next minute, he was gone. Vanished. Poof.

“What the hell.” She blinked and rubbed her eyes furiously. She stood there, motionless.
Did I really just see that?
“No. No way. It was just a reflection or something from the ocean.”

Samantha closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She steadied herself with her hands, as though smoothing out the air around her. When she opened her eyes, the balcony was empty. No Malcolm. No long-haired guy. Nothing.

“See…nothing. You're just tired,” she said, not really convincing herself. “Now, stop talking to yourself, and go get ready for your date with the weird, arrogant, gorgeous neighbor. What the hell am I going to wear?” Sam walked into the house. She gave one last glance over her shoulder to the empty balcony next door. “I'm definitely wearing my cross.”

Samantha stood in her bathrobe, staring at the contents of an uncooperative closet. She was in good shape overall. She'd managed to blow-dry her long hair in record time. She loved the summer because just a little sunglow meant less makeup was needed. Now all she had to do was find an outfit. She couldn't very well go naked. Although, being naked with Malcolm had crossed her mind more than once. Considering she never found sex that interesting, she'd been thinking about it an awful lot recently. “Focus, Sam,” she muttered into the closet. From the doorway, she heard Nonie's teasing.

“You know, that's the trouble with those closets. You have to watch them every minute, or they sneak away.”

“It's not funny, Nonie,” Sam said with more than a little frustration. “I don't have anything to wear on this ridiculous date tonight. Ahh. Why did I agree to go?” Sam flopped back onto her bed.

Nonie sifted through the various items and pulled out the black eyelet sundress, pink cardigan, and black flats that Sam had taken out and put back ten times already. “You should always go with your instincts, my dear. They're usually right.” Nonie laid the items on the bed next to Samantha.

“Hey! That's the same outfit I kept going to. That's so funny. How did you know?” Samantha was interrupted by the doorbell.

“Saved by the bell,” Nonie said under her breath.

“Oh my God! I'm not ready. Nonie, please don't grill him about his family.”

“I'll only ask for his social security number and a few references.” The doorbell rang again.

“Nonie!”

“Oh stop it! I'm just teasing you. I'll go easy on him. Now hurry up and get dressed.” She left to greet Sam's date.

***

Malcolm squirmed at the front door, feeling a bit foolish. He looked around, fearing one of his Amoveo kin would see him participating in this silly human ritual. He rang the doorbell a second time. Panic hit him, realizing he should've brought her something. Human men usually showed up with flowers, didn't they? He quickly visualized a huge bouquet of assorted roses in vibrant reds, pinks, and yellows. Moments later, they were in his hand, just as the door opened.

Malcolm had to look down a bit to see a lovely older woman standing at the door, her silver hair swept up loosely around a dazzling face with twinkling blue eyes. Although in her seventies, one could see she'd been a beauty in her day, which obviously ran in their family. She smiled at him, but he sensed wariness behind it. She held out her hand and eyed the flowers.

“You must be Malcolm. Lovely to meet you. Please come in. Samantha will be down in a moment.” She shook his hand quickly and turned, leaving him no choice but to follow her into the kitchen.

“Thank you. You are Samantha's grandmother,” he said awkwardly, wishing he'd conjured up two bouquets of flowers.

“Yes. I'm Helen Costigan. But you may call me Nonie.” She waved. “Everyone does.”

“Very nice to meet you, Nonie.” He smiled. “Davis has told me a bit about you.”

“Really? Well, he's a nice old fellow, but I hope he hasn't been telling tales out of school.” She winked.

Malcolm cocked his head with confusion. Just as he was about to ask what she meant, he heard Samantha behind him.

“Hi. I hope you haven't been waiting too long.”

Sam's voice floated over him like a warm breeze. For the first time in his life, Malcolm was speechless. She was dressed simply, but was absolutely stunning. Her blonde hair fell loosely around her face and cascaded over her shoulders. The gold in her hair complemented her large blue Amoveo eyes. She wore very little makeup, which he liked, a natural glow. The sight of her knocked the wind out of him. “I'm sorry. What? No.” Malcolm felt foolish, stumbling over his words like some ridiculous adolescent. “It gave me the opportunity to meet your grandmother, who I've heard so much about.”

Sam smiled, knowing she'd made an impression on him.
Score one point for me.

Malcolm stilled when he heard her in his mind. Finally, for the first time, he heard his mate in the most intimate form of communication, telepathically. He gave her a big broad smile. This was the most encouraging sign for him yet. Their connection was growing stronger, and she was definitely opening up to him. “You look fabulous. Here, these are for you.” He stuck the flowers out awkwardly, like some pimply teenager.

He cringed at his fumbling attempts at courting.

“They're gorgeous. Thank you.” Sam looked at him over the flowers while she breathed in the sweet fragrance. “Nonie, would you mind putting these in water for me.” She didn't take her eyes off Malcolm.

“Of course dear, I'll take care of it. Now you two run along and have fun.” Nonie escorted them to the door.

Nonie watched them walk out to the car with a growing sense of dread. She knew Samantha was excited about the date and clearly attracted to Malcolm, but she worried all the same. She had already lost her daughter. Samantha was all she had left. No one would take her away. No one.

They approached the black Mercedes waiting in the driveway, and Malcolm stole a sidelong look at Samantha. She was simply radiant. He glanced down at his slightly rumpled linen pants and stuffed his hands in his pockets. He always considered his style “classic casual,” but at the moment he felt like a bit of a slob. She looked too damned good for him. He opened the car door for her, and she slid easily in to the buttery beige leather seat just as her velvet thoughts slid into his mind.

Jesus, even his car his gorgeous. I'm a beat-up VW, and he's a Mercedes. What the hell am I doing with this guy?

Malcolm heard her insecure thoughts loud and clear, but was completely perplexed by them. Did she really have no idea how attractive she was? If anything he thought he was the beat-up VW, and she was the slick Mercedes. He wondered how in the world it could be possible that she wasn't confident of her own beauty. Did she not notice the way people turned to look at her? She was magnificent in true Amoveo tradition, both inside and out. “So where to, madam? I'm at your mercy.”

His smile turned her insides to jelly. “Well.” She played with the cross at her neck. “I thought I'd take you to a traditional Westerly summer haunt. Paddy's. It's a great little place on the beach, right down at the other end of Atlantic Avenue actually. Since its Saturday, there's probably a good cover band playing later on tonight. They usually have an eighties band on the weekend. You know Bon Jovi, Def Leppard, the usual.” Sam cringed. He made her so nervous that she was running off at the mouth.

“Sure. I'm up for anything as long as you'll show me the way.”

Sam gave Malcolm the simple directions to Paddy's down the road. As they drove along Atlantic Avenue, the sun was beginning to set over the marsh. She looked out her window at an osprey swooping down to its nest. It was perched high, over water dotted with reeds. A few roosts had been placed in the marsh to encourage species growth in the area, and they were all occupied. This one had a large fish in its beak, feeding its young, who in a few weeks would be learning to fly and leaving the nest.

Spectacular.

The whisper was soft. “They are exceptional birds, aren't they,” she said.

“Absolutely.” Only he hadn't been thinking about the birds. “Many people are intimidated by birds of prey, but I think they're quite interesting, don't you?”

“Mmmhmm,” Sam murmured.

“Have you ever seen one up close?” He pulled the car into the restaurant parking lot.

Sam looked at him through narrowed eyes. “Actually, just recently. Why do you ask?”

“Curious, I suppose. I was at the zoo once, the Bronx Zoo, and the birds of prey exhibit was my favorite.” He turned off the ignition.

Sam didn't have time to let herself out because Malcolm beat her to the punch, opening her door for her again.
Flowers, opening up doors—very nice.

Malcolm tried not to grin like an idiot at her approval, but he couldn't help it. Things were going perfectly.

***

They were seated at a table outside overlooking the ocean. Paddy's was a casual place with various types of patrons. Currently there were lots of families, some just coming in from the beach. Soon it would be pulsing with live music and several liquored-up guests. Sam liked it for the people watching. It was like stepping into a time warp. Everyone who came here for the evening entertainment looked as if they were plucked out of the eighties. The guys with mullets and girls with big hair, wearing lots of heavy metal T-shirts with cutoff jean shorts.

There were the preppy tourists, here and there, stopping in briefly from their family summer homes. Men sporting the shorts with little whales on them. The ladies who looked too perfect, their necks draped with pristine strands of pearls, and flawless bodies covered by Lilly Pulitzer dresses. That crowd ran for the hills before the music got started. Sam never really fit in with either group, but it sure was fun to watch them when their worlds collided.

She and Malcolm talked easily over dinner and well past dessert. The conversation and laughter flowed as easily as the wine. Samantha found herself telling this man, this stranger, her entire life story. She told him about her parents, Nonie and Pop, Kerry, her life in NYC that she walked away from—all of it. At various points, she touched the cross at the hollow of her throat, usually when she spoke about her grandparents.

Never in her life had she ever told anyone so much about herself all at once. She always talked too much when she got nervous, but he didn't seem to mind. In fact, he became quite the chatterbox himself. He told her how he'd grown up an only child, between Italy and New York. His international life explained his unusual accent. He laughed out loud when she told him of the rumor mill about his family. He assured her his parents were alive and well in Milan, enjoying their retirement. He regaled her with stories of Milan, the beauty of the architecture, and the people.

They sat comfortably for a moment in silence. Samantha sipped her wine and looked at him over the rim of her glass. She smiled ever so slightly. He smiled back, holding her gaze. The look in his eye sent warmth through her body. She looked away quickly and touched her little cross.

Malcolm leaned in to inspect the tiny treasure that she gave so much attention to. “This is lovely,” he said as he gently caressed the silver between his fingers. “Did your grandmother give it to you?”

“Mmmhmm,” Sam murmured. She tried not to think about her racing heart from having him this close. “It was my mother's and her mother's and so on. Nonie gave it to my mom for her First Communion. After I was born, my mother put it away for me to have.”

Malcolm leaned back and released it from his grasp but never took his eyes off hers. It was like a game of chicken, and Sam most definitely lost. She cleared her throat and fiddled with the cross again.

“It's funny. Nonie said Mom used to wear it all the time, but just before she died, she put it away for me. I'm grateful she did. It's all I have of her really.”

“I wouldn't say that. She was quite beautiful, and so are you.” Malcolm's gaze wandered over her body.

Her cheeks flushed, and her face burned. Her lashes fluttered nervously as she took another sip of her wine.

“This last fellow you dated was a fool to let you go Samantha, but I'm very glad that he did.”

Sam scoffed audibly and took a larger sip of her wine. Anger flashed hotly at the memory of just how much Roger hadn't wanted to let her go. Sam knew it was Bad Dating 101 to talk about old boyfriends, but he may as well know now that she wasn't interested in a controlling asshole—no matter how charismatic he was. Roger had been charming at first too.

“Roger didn't have a choice.” She lifted her chin defiantly and latched her gaze to his. “I don't make it a habit of being with controlling or abusive men.”

His eyes narrowed, and the expression on his face hardened. His left hand curled into a fist as he leaned back in his chair. If Sam didn't know better, she'd swear the air around them thickened. It was as if a huge cloud of humidity landed right on top of their table. She shifted slightly in her chair as the silence hung between them.

“I would hope not,” he said without taking his eyes from hers. “This person should pray I never set eyes on him.”

Sam cocked her head and cast him a questioning glance. His intense reaction surprised her, and honestly, flattered her a bit too. Roger was back in New York with his tail between his legs. She was about to reassure Malcolm of this very fact when the music started. It was so loud, continuing any conversation was next to impossible. Malcolm settled the bill, and they went inside to check out the band.

The music thrummed loudly through the small bar and reverberated through her body. Although, having Malcolm standing so close to her might've been causing the throbbing too. She stole a glance up at him as they listened to the music. His profile, much like the rest of him, was perfect. His shaggy hair curled slightly over his collar, and she had to resist the urge to brush it back and rub the silky strands between her fingers. Sam's blood hummed with awareness as their bodies were scant inches apart. Occasionally her arm brushed his, and even that minor contact sent little licks of fire up her spine.

***

Malcolm tried desperately to keep his desire in check. Her reaction to him was palpable. Small beads of sweat formed on his forehead as he struggled for control over the firestorm building inside of him. He swallowed hard and took a deep, shuddering breath. He had to touch her, claim her. The mere mention of the man she'd been with had just about pushed him over the edge. He was flooded by unfamiliar emotions. He'd never in his life been awkward or unsure around women, but Sam was no ordinary woman.

Just as he was about to take her hand in his, Malcolm was struck by a wave of violent energy. Someone or something evil lurked nearby. The hatred spilled over him in waves, and his desire was replaced by fury.