“We’re going,” Nathan said, shoving a bottle of shampoo in the bag.

“We’re really not,” she said, shifting to climb off the other side of the bed only to end up cursing when Charlie followed the move.

“We don’t have fucking time for your Stockholm Syndrome, Samantha. We need to get out of here before the Pyte changes his mind,” he bit out with a glare as he shoved the rest of her things in the bag.

“He saved my life, jackass,” Samantha said, with a snort of disgust as she moved to climb off the bed and-

“Goddamnit!”

Found herself climbing back on the bed.

“And for that, I’ll always be thankful, but it’s time to get the hell out of Dodge before it’s too late,” Nathan said, throwing her bag over his shoulder before grabbing hold of her leg and dragged her closer.

“I’m not going anywhere, Nathan. I made a promise and I intend on keeping it,” Samantha said, only to curse when he dragged her the rest of the way.

“We’re going.”

“We’re really not,” she said, grabbing hold of the sheets to stop him from doing this.

“We really are,” he said, giving her no other choice but to put a stop to this.

Chapter 36

“God, have you always been a brat?” came the shouted demand from outside, as Trace stood there, tightening his hold on the mantel, wishing the Sentinel would move faster and take Samantha out of here before he changed his mind.

He needed her to leave.

He needed her far away from here where it was safe and he wouldn’t have to worry about giving in to the need to pull her into his arms and worry about what would happen if he did. He needed her as far away from here as her brother could take her, needed to know that she was safe, and he needed…

Her.

He needed her, Trace thought as his grip tightened around the mantel until a crack formed down the middle. He needed her and he hated it. He hated this hold that she had on him, hated the fact that he couldn’t stop thinking about her, needed her so fucking desperately that every minute that he was away from her felt like he was drowning in his own personal hell.

“Yes!” the woman that he needed to leave yelled, making his lips twitch despite the fact that he felt like he was on the verge of losing control.

“You’re going!”

“No, I’m not!”

“Put me down!”

“Stop kicking me!”

“Make me!” his wife snapped, making him roll his eyes even as he felt his breaths coming faster and everything turned red.

“Fine!”

“Fine!” came her shouted reply, followed by a loud thump and then…

“Oh…oh, shit. I’m so sorry, Sammie. Are you okay?” Nathan mumbled before the sounds of a sniffle reached his ears and-

Had him shoving away from the mantel with a growl as he found himself heading to the door. Seconds later, a growl was torn from his throat when the pained whimper reached his ears.

“I’m sorry, Sammie,” Nathan said as Trace opened the cottage door and found his wife slapping her brother’s hands away when he tried to help her up. When Trace released a growl of warning, the large Sentinel dropped his hands away with a heavy sigh.

The second growl had the Sentinel reluctantly stepping back even as his gaze shifted between his sister and the thing that Trace had been assuming was a car before shifting back to him and…

“Goddamnit, Sammie,” Nathan said, sighing heavily as he headed for the woods where he would most likely patrol for the rest of the night.

Tags: R.L. Mathewson Pyte/Sentinel Fantasy
Source: readsnovelonline.net