Sam's POV
It has been eight days since Marcy disappear. Eight days since I had a decent sleep. Eight days since I drank blood. Eight days that felt like it has been eight centuries. I can't bring myself to sleep because of the guilt that is stuck in my chest. Mum, which I prefer to call her maman, has been trying to convince me to try and get some sleep which I refuse to do so.
I have been bonding with maman over those eight miserable days.
The thirst for blood is bearable since the guilt always distract me.
Here I am, in a middle of a training session between vampires and werewolves. Jake has proposed a few days ago that we will train with each other until the war comes which I agree quickly.
The only vampires missing are Pierre, Jacques and Marc. Pierre is leaning against a tree, looking up at the sky. If he were human, he would have smoked a cigarette or something. We talked to each other quite often, mostly about Aunt Zoë. What I hate is that he always calls me 'sweetheart'. Jacques is with George doing God knows what. I still remember the day clearly...
"This is impossible!" Jacques hiss, almost to himself as he pace around my room.
I spy on him to know why he has been acting strangely around George.
"What is impossible?" I ask softly, making him turn to face towards me in shock. Perhaps wondering how much I've heard.
Jacques ignores my question. "Why don't you heal him? Those scars are going to be there forever."
I take a step towards him. "I can't risk our secret! Wouldn't it be suspicious that his scars will heal in a matter of minutes?"
Jacques shakes his head furiously. "I don't care!"
I narrow my eyes at him. "What has climbed up your ass and died? Why do you suddenly care for George?"
Jacques is silent this time, looking everywhere but me. I sigh tiredly. Not only I have to find Marcy but I have to deal with my best friend's problem.
Jacques looks at me pitifully. "You should sleep," he whispers.
"You know that I can't! Now stop changing the subject and answer the question!" I snap at him.
Jacques groans quietly in defeat. "George is my beloved."
From that day onwards, I've been trying to get them together until Jacques asked George out this morning. Let me tell you, George is the happiest man alive.
Marc is my second-in-command. Even though we despise each other ever since the first day we met, he makes a good second-in-command. Since he used to be a future leader of his coven, he's gifted. Jacques told me he is a tracker, able to find anything even though it's a whiff.
Knock, knock.
I open the door to see a boy, almost as old as me if not older, grinning at me. He has blond hair, like Jacques but forest green eyes.
"Samantha?" he asks.
"It's Sam," I correct him quickly.
"My name is Marco. Your second-in-command. You can call me Marc, Samantha," he says as if he wasn't listening to me.
Without a second thought, I punch him in the face. He howls in pain, making Pierre laugh like a maniac. Pierre knows that I hate strangers who call me by my full name. Marc quickly holds his cheek that is healing rapidly. I lean towards him as I say, "You call me Samantha, I'll personally feed your balls to the cats outside."
