A New Meaning to the Night

Chapter Four: The Freedom to Choose

Sam didn't end her spell until she was safely inside the walls of The Willow Tree. Sitting on her usual stool, she smiled at Clarissa who moved over to her, usual scowl in place. "This is the last place you should be after the other night."

"I was in the line of fire. What else should I have done?"

Maintaining her look of disapproval, Clarissa wiped down the counter in front of Sam. "What do you want?"

"The cheapest beer you have."

"You're underage."

Willing to play along, Sam leaned forward and her smile broadened. "Mortals can't even see the door to this place of yours. I have faith that you won't get busted for serving an underage patron. Come on, please?"

Pursing her lips, Clarissa walked away for a brief moment only to come back and slam a bottle down in front of her. Sam took a long swig and fingered the tiny purple vial she'd set on the counter. The potion inside would block her thoughts; keep her mind safe from intrusion and safe from anyone else happening upon what she'd learned about herself and her father. Uncapping the bottle, she downed it in one swallow, then slipped the empty vial back into her pocket.

Her father was dead, her mother had ignored her in an attempt to keep her safe and her grandmother had kept her in the dark for the same reason. Was this the life she'd be in store for? It was stupid for her to agree to help them dethrone her father's killer. It was stupid for her to have been blinded by anger. Taking another drink of her beer, she contemplated her options. There'd be no going back seeing as she'd already given her word. Her phone vibrated on the bar beside her and Cori's name lit her screen. She turned it off.

There was a good chance that she would be forced to watch her best friend age and have a family while she was stuck in her twenty-one-year-old immortal body. Everyone she knew would die while she remained young, and if they didn't? She shivered slightly and downed what remained in her beer. If she didn't outlive everyone she'd ever known, it would be because she'd been murdered for being the only offspring of a man she'd never met.

Clarissa walked over and exchanged her empty beer bottle with a glass of red wine and nodded in the direction of the opposite side of the bar where a blue-eyed guy who looked to be no older than eighteen himself winked at her and smiled. "You've got an admirer," Clarissa informed her rather shortly even as she let a slip of a smile escape. "This is the last thing you'll be getting from me, Samantha. You've no business drinking anything else."

Because she was not completely incapable of being social, Sam lifted the glass and mouthed a thank you to the guy across the bar before taking a sip. Wine was not her first choice, but she wasn't against a free drink. Taking her acceptance as a sign, he made his way over to her. "Beautiful girl like you should be dancing with someone."

Her eyes sparkled in amusement and she set her drink down on the counter. "Are you offering yourself up for the challenge?"

His smile widened into something nearly predatory, and she strongly suspected him to be a werewolf. "I think I'm up for it. The name's Peter."

Taking the hand he offered and deciding to have a little fun before everything in her life grew even more hectic and dangerous, Sam slid from her stool, "Sam, thanks for the drink."

She was so focused on Peter leading her out on the floor that she didn't notice one of the werewolves from before slipping something into the unattended glass of wine sitting beside her chair. The music was loud and the floor was crowded, but her cares disappeared for just a few minutes while she danced with him and let the music flow over her. She'd needed this distraction, this had been good. She was so glad she hadn't allowed Damien to follow her. Perhaps her initial assessment of the guy had been slightly brutal, but he was not what she thought of as a laid-back kind of guy. She was full of enough brooding for twenty people, and she didn't need him to add to it.