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CHAPTER SIX

SAMUEL/ BLAKE

SAMUEL

When I woke up that morning, I immediately reached out through our bond, seeking Blake’s presence.

It was a habit I’d developed over the past few days without even realizing it.

I walked to my bedroom and saw the bed was empty, the sheets rumpled. My stomach tightened.

The imprint of his body was still fresh on the mattress, so he couldn’t have been gone long, but a whisper of worry curled in my chest.

My dragon stirred, immediately sensing my unease. Don’t panic, I told myself, but it was easier said than done.

Blake was a hunter, trained to slip away unnoticed. He might’ve decided that morning was the time to go.

If he thought I’d let him slip away so easily, he was sorely mistaken.

My fingers brushed the edge of the bed, the warmth already fading. If he was determined to leave, I’d track him to the ends of the earth.

A growl built in my chest at the thought.

The thought of Blake running, believing he could escape me, left me equal parts irritated and amused.

Taking a deep breath, I stood and focused. His scent lingered in the air, strong enough for me to follow.

That scent was mine to chase now. I padded down the hallway, my senses sharp, every nerve on high alert.

The kitchen door was open, leading to the back. That was either an invitation or a rushed exit—possibly both.

My dragon rumbled, eager to get moving, already anticipating the hunt.

A quick inhale confirmed that his scent was freshest leading outside.

I took a few strides into the yard, the cold morning air waking me up even more.

My dragon’s instincts surged to the forefront, but I reined them in. There was no need to transform—not yet.

Blake hadn’t gone far; I could feel it, sense it. The bond between us pulsed faintly, a gentle hum that let me know he was close.

The forest stretched out ahead, a thick mist hovering low over the ground.

I followed his tracks, every broken twig and patch of disturbed earth an invitation to draw closer.

The trees were dense, the quiet of the morning only broken by the rustle of leaves and the distant calls of birds.

I could see his footprints in the dew-soaked earth, tracing a path deeper into the woods. He was taking his time, almost meandering.

Good. He wasn’t running from me. At least, not yet.

As I approached, I saw him sitting on a fallen log, his shoulders hunched, staring off into the distance.

His expression was distant, lost in thoughts I wanted desperately to know.

The knot in my chest loosened, and I slowed, savoring the sight of him, just him, sitting alone under the towering pines, bathed in the soft morning light.

I cleared my throat to announce my presence, not wanting to startle him.

“May I join you?” I asked, keeping my tone gentle.

Blake’s head snapped up, his eyes wide for a moment before recognition softened his features.

The tension in his shoulders eased, and he looked back to where he’d been staring, then nodded.

“Be my guest,” Blake said.

I moved closer, settling on the log beside him.

Our shoulders brushed, and I watched him from the corner of my eye, wondering if he’d pull away. But he didn’t.

I took that as a small victory, a sign that I could push a little more, maybe get him to open up.

“Penny for your thoughts?” I asked.

He sighed. “I was just… thinking what my life would be like if I wasn’t a hunter,” Blake said.

I turned to look at him, surprised.

For someone who seemed so dedicated to his profession, someone who’d spent years fighting, training, and killing, it was hard to imagine him contemplating anything else.

“And? What did you come up with?” I asked.

He let out a short, humorless laugh. “Nothing. Hunting’s all I’ve ever known.”

He sounded so defeated, like he’d already resigned himself to a life that, as far as I could see, was eating him from the inside out.

My dragon growled softly in response, feeling the need to protect, to shelter.

“There must be something you’re good at, something you’re interested in pursuing,” I said, almost challenging him.

He looked down at his hands, the corners of his mouth twitching.

“I like to draw,” he admitted, his voice barely a whisper. “Never been really good at it, though.”

I turned the thought over in my mind, an idea sparking.

“Well then,” I said, “why don’t we head into town later? Get you some drawing supplies.”

His head whipped around to look at me, eyes wide with surprise.

“What? Are you serious?” Blake asked.

I shrugged, enjoying the way his face lit up, even if it was just a little.

“Yeah. I’ve been meaning to restock our supplies anyway. Wouldn’t hurt to pick up a few extras,” I told him.

Blake blinked, a flicker of emotion crossing his face before he looked away, trying to hide it.

He was still too proud, too wary to show much of what he was feeling, but the hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth was enough for me.

“Thanks,” he muttered, his voice almost shy.

We sat in silence for a few minutes, both of us staring out at the forest.

I felt the weight of his loneliness, the years he’d spent training, fighting, and killing.

He’d never had a chance to just live.

To explore the things that interested him, to have a life that wasn’t dictated by duty and danger.

And I’d be damned if I let him run from the chance he had now, here, with me.

Eventually, he broke the silence.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” His tone was defensive, but there was something fragile underneath it, a vulnerability that tugged at something deep in my chest.

I turned to him, letting him see the truth in my eyes.

“Because you’re mine,” I said, voice steady. “And I take care of what’s mine.”

He swallowed, his face a mixture of shock and confusion. I could see him struggling, grappling with the intensity of it all.

But I knew he felt it too. The bond between us was undeniable, a force that neither of us could ignore.

“You don’t even know me,” he said softly, his voice trembling slightly.

I leaned closer, brushing a strand of hair from his face.

“I know enough,” I replied. “I know you’re strong, and stubborn as hell. I know you’re more than capable of fighting for yourself. But that doesn’t mean you have to, not anymore.”

He looked away, his jaw clenched, but he didn’t pull back.

“I’m not used to… this. To someone caring,” Blake said.

My chest tightened at his words.

“Then get used to it,” I whispered, letting my hand linger at the nape of his neck, feeling the warmth of his skin under my fingers.

I continued, “Because I’m not going anywhere. And neither are you.”

Blake closed his eyes, exhaling shakily. For a long moment, we stayed like that, breathing in sync.

Two souls bound by something special, something neither of us fully understood yet.

BLAKE

Sitting in the passenger seat of Samuel’s old pick-up truck, I felt a strange mix of anticipation and nervousness.

My fingers drummed against my knee, and I forced myself to stare out the window, watching the thick trees blur as we drove toward Grey Arrow.

I could feel Samuel’s steady presence next to me, his hand resting casually on the wheel.

Despite the tension building in my chest, I felt a flicker of excitement, and my heart thumped against my ribs in a way I hadn’t felt before.

It was almost like… no, that was ridiculous. This wasn’t a date. The thought made me want to laugh, but the sound wouldn’t come.

Dates were for people with uncomplicated lives, for people who could afford the distraction of romance.

As a hunter, my assignments came first.

It was all about staying sharp, being on edge, never letting anyone close enough to get hurt or, worse, close enough to hurt me.

When the loneliness crept in, I drowned it in fleeting moments with strangers, one-night stands that meant nothing.

I never felt the need for anything more. But Samuel’s silence was different, steadying, in a way I hadn’t expected.

My cousin Finn would’ve laughed at me, probably telling me this was exactly what I deserved after all the ribbing I’d given him over the years.

Finn had always wanted the fairytale: flowers, a nice dinner, a walk through the park, hand in hand. The works.

I used to call him a dreamer, and I’d never believed it was something I’d want for myself. So, what was I doing here now?

As the town of Grey Arrow appeared on the horizon, I pushed the thought away.

The place looked almost as ragged as I felt, the buildings squatting low, paint peeling from the walls, windows grimy with years of neglect.

It felt like a place that had been left behind.

A few people wandered the streets, but the moment they noticed us, they turned away, their gazes hard, their expressions wary.

I glanced over at Samuel, half-expecting him to react, but he just nodded as if he’d anticipated this kind of reception.

“They’re not big on outsiders around here,” he said. “Can’t say I blame them.”

“Maybe it’s the rogue wolves,” I said. “I wouldn’t be surprised if they know more about what’s lurking in these woods than they let on.”

Samuel grunted in agreement.

He parked outside a small art shop tucked between two larger buildings, its sign barely visible from the road.

As we stepped out, I felt the hair on the back of my neck prickle.

I had the strange sensation that eyes were on us, watching every step we took.

Samuel opened the door to the shop and gestured for me to go in first. I hesitated, then stepped inside.

The smell of paper, paint, and fresh canvas hit me all at once, familiar and comforting.

I wandered through the aisles, marveling at the supplies, the shelves stacked with sketchbooks, pencils, and charcoals.

For a moment, I forgot the strange town, forgot the wary looks from the locals.

I reached for a sketchbook, feeling the weight of it in my hand.

“How much should I…” I started, feeling a bit embarrassed as I remembered I didn’t have any money.

“Get whatever you want,” Samuel said, cutting me off. He met my eyes, his tone serious. “Consider it my treat.”

“Thanks,” I muttered, still not entirely sure what to make of his generosity.

I half-expected him to leave me to my shopping, but he stayed close, watching with a curious expression.

There was no judgment in his gaze, just genuine interest.

I felt myself relax, just a little, and reached for a set of pencils. I didn’t mind his presence, I realized.

The idea was strange, almost surreal.

“I used to draw a lot when I was younger,” I said, speaking more to myself than him. “But being a hunter…well, it’s not exactly something I had time for.”

He nodded, seeming to understand.

“When did you start?” he asked, his voice soft, as if he didn’t want to break the moment.

I let out a small laugh. “My cousin Finn was the first person I showed my sketches to. He was always bugging me to draw him something new, something more elaborate.”

“Finn?” Samuel’s voice held a note of curiosity, and I realized I’d never mentioned him before.

“He’s the only one I’m close to,” I said. “He’s the one who…kept me going through all of it. I’d probably be dead if it weren’t for him.”

Samuel stayed quiet for a moment, and I could feel the weight of his gaze.

“You trust him?” he asked finally.

“With my life.” The words slipped out before I’d really thought about them, but they were true.

Samuel nodded, a spark of approval in his eyes.

“Maybe when all this is over, you can find him again. Let him know you’re alive. Tell him to keep your secret,” Samuel said.

The idea was enough to send a pang through my chest. After all this was over.

I hadn’t even let myself think about the future, but here Samuel was, speaking about it as if it were inevitable.

He seemed so sure, so grounded in a way I could hardly understand.

As he paid for my supplies, I found myself sneaking glances at him, wondering how he could be so confident.

He handled the whole exchange with an easy familiarity, as if this was something he did all the time.

I could almost imagine that we were just two normal people, shopping in a sleepy town, planning for a life that wasn’t constantly filled with danger.

I clutched the bag of supplies as we walked back to the truck, still lost in thought.

The idea of leaving this life behind, of finding something simpler, something stable, seemed too good to be true.

Just as we were about to reach the parking lot, a piercing scream shattered the air.

Samuel and I turned in unison, our gazes locking for a split second before he started toward the sound, his movements fluid and purposeful.

I was right behind him, my heart pounding as we moved toward the edge of the lot, where a dense line of trees led deeper into the forest.

The scream came again, sharp and desperate, echoing off the trees.

We moved together, slipping into the shadows, both of us on high alert.

The forest around us seemed to hold its breath, the air thick with tension.

Samuel’s expression had turned dark, his features hard, his eyes blazing. It was easy to see the dragon lurking beneath, ready to strike.

We followed the sound, each step bringing us closer.

The underbrush crackled beneath our boots, and I kept my senses sharp, every nerve straining for any sign of movement.

Samuel signaled for me to stay close, his hand brushing against my arm. I nodded, feeling a strange surge of determination.

Whatever was out here, we’d face it together.

When we reached a small clearing, the scent of blood hit me, sharp and metallic.

My stomach twisted, but I forced myself to focus. In the center of the clearing, a figure lay on the ground, still and unmoving.

A man, his features ravaged beyond recognition. A dark shape loomed over them, eyes glinting in the dim light.

It was a rogue wolf, its fur matted with dirt and blood, its teeth bared in a vicious snarl.

Samuel stepped forward, his stance shifting, muscles coiled as he prepared to strike.

I moved beside him, my hands clenched into fists, ready to fight.

I could feel the bond between us thrumming, a steady pulse that kept me grounded.