Chapter 7 - Lawson
Lawson’s heart almost stopped. The book that was still in his hands suddenly felt just a little too heavy, and he placed it on the step below him. When he stood, there was a part of him that hoped that she was wrong. Or maybe that she would not be frightened by him. It was a lot to ask in such a short time, but it was something that he would work on for as long as it took. She called them all monsters, which included his species.
The hesitation was due to his uncertainty of her reaction to him, and the uncertainty if she really knew what he was. There was no doubt she was a bright woman, but it was a big ask to have her believe what he was and yet also believe that he would never harm her.
When he finally took a step towards her, meeting her eyes and not allowing her to drop his gaze, he was almost too relieved that she remained where she stood. “And just what am I?” He walked to the threshold and stood in front of her, wanting to brush that wayward strand of dark hair from her face and tuck it behind her ear.
“Cool to the touch, swift as the wind itself, cannot enter without permission…” She was still breathing the words, and still searching his face for something. Maybe confirmation? “You’re a vampire.”
Lawson shrugged one of his shoulders. “Much prefer the term lamia.” Her fragrance was intoxicating, and he let it waft over and envelope him. The invite had yet to be given, so he let his eyes move over the length of her, lingering over every curve. When she gasped at his blatant perusal, he smiled wickedly. To be sure, if the invite had been issued, his hands would be doing what only his eyes were able to.
“Lamia? Such old school.”
Lawson and Angeline looked up in shock. “Matt? But you’re…”
“Dead? Yeah, the perks of being a warlock.”
“Angeline, that invite would be nice right about now.” His mind was buzzing, and adrenaline swept through his veins as he clenched his fists tight. How did he not sense this man?
“Lawson,” she started.
The man across the room lifted his hand and twisted his wrist. “No, I don’t think so, Angie, dear.”
Reaching hands up to her throat, Angeline tried desperately to say words that were now frozen in her throat, and Lawson could only watch. Glaring at Matt, he growled deep. “You have no idea who you are dealing with. If you were wise, you would be on your way.”
Matt turned a sour look towards Lawson before he flicked his wrist sending Angeline across the room and pinning her to the wall. She was pinned so firmly, that Lawson could see no signs of resistance to free herself. Her eyes met his, and he could see a mixture of emotions that passed there: anger, disbelief, determination, indignation.
The witch moved with stealth steps across the room, and rubbed her cheek with the back of his hand. “You did well, my pet.” She glared at him. “It really is a shame that you have to die, but you know too much.” His hand moved from her cheek, and drifted down her neck moving towards the firm roundness that Lawson knew were his alone. He chuckled and faced Lawson. “You forged a bond, did you? How spontaneously delicious.”
Turning his body to face Angeline, he moved closer to her own held immobile. Both of his hands moved over her, touching places that were not his to explore. “I will kill you!”
Another chuckle. “I forget how possessive your kind can be. This must be killing you.” He smiled mirthlessly and emphasized his meaning as he let a hand trail over her delicate roundness.
Darting down the stairs, Lawson was back mere seconds later. Fury racked his body as he saw him continue to lay his filthy hands on the woman he was bound to so intimately. Without a further thought, he flung the silver water splinter he grabbed from one of the plants, and struck the man in the side of his neck.
Freed from the spell that paralyzed her, she slid down the wall. She scrambled from the floor, trying to avoid the pool that was welling beneath where Matt still stood losing his life’s blood from the gaping wound.
“So, how about that invite?”