Pretty When She Kills (Pretty When She Dies #2)(28)

“Samantha, what is going on?” He started to wonder if she was ill.

“I’m…” she shrugged.

“You’re not here just to tell me what a cheating jerk I am, are you?”

“No, I gave you that speech already. And you still suck for it.” Samantha took out a fresh tissue from her purse and blew her nose. “I’m here to talk to Morticia.”

“Sam...”

“Look, f*cker, I have a right to hate her for more reasons than you know. Okay?”

Cian started to protest, but stopped himself. He had betrayed Samantha with Amaliya. Instead of getting married to Samantha in a few weeks, he was living with Amaliya. How could he deny Samantha the right to be angry?

“Samantha, do you really think it wise for you to continue this argument with her?”

“Oh, I have a whole new thing with her. I need to talk to her like right now.”

“We’re waiting on an important phone call. This is not the best time.”

“God, how can you think with that music?” Samantha glared toward one of the speakers, changing the subject.

“She’s practicing.” Cian shrugged.

“She gonna be a vampire rock star like Lestat?”

Cian snorted. “No, no. She loves drumming. It’s her thing, I guess.”

“Whatever.” Samantha stalked toward the living room.

“Samantha, could we avoid a fight tonight?”

“No,” she snapped.

Amaliya was just finishing a very dramatic drum solo when she spotted Samantha. She pointed a drumstick in the blonde’s direction. “Don’t interrupt!”

“Fuck you!”

With a growl of frustration, Amaliya continued playing, her blue-gray eyes glowering at the blond stalking toward her.

“We need to talk!” Samantha shouted over the music.

“Why? You hate me.”

“Yeah? So? I still need to talk to you!”

Amaliya hissed, snatched up the remote for the stereo, and killed the music. Standing, she twirled the drumsticks around her fingers. Dressed in a tight black tank top and skinny jeans, Cian found her insanely sexy. Her feet were bare and she had painted her toenails and fingernails a bright red the night before. Dyed black hair hung in wild disarray around her face and Cian had the sudden urge to drag her off for a quickie. Instead, he folded his arms and stood to the side ready to referee.

“Okay, talk, little bitch.” Amaliya tapped the drumstick against her thigh, waiting impatiently.

Surprisingly, Samantha seemed at a loss for words. Hesitantly, she shifted on her feet.

“Well?”

“Gimme a moment, slut. I’m trying to gather my thoughts.”

Amaliya rolled her eyes.

Cian reached out and lightly touched Samantha’s shoulder. “Just talk to us.”

“This isn’t easy to say!” Samantha exclaimed.

“What isn’t easy to say?” Cian asked, knowing that she’d answer. He knew her very well and how to get her to respond.

“I’m seeing ghosts and it’s vamp-bitch’s fault!”

Amaliya blinked rapidly, surprised. “What?”

“I drank your stupid blood and now I’m seeing ghosts! You did this to me! You made me a f*cking ghost whisperer!” Samantha stomped over to the couch and sat down, clutching her purse.

“Is this making sense to you?” Amaliya asked Cian.

Stunned by Samantha’s words, Cian was trying to process the revelation. He had heard that servants of some vampires absorbed power through the transfer of blood over time. It usually took many years for those abilities to manifest. Of course, nothing about Amaliya had been the norm so far, so maybe there was something about the infusion of the necromantic power into her vampiric nature that had altered her blood.

“Cian?” Amaliya narrowed her eyes.

“It might be, though it would be very unusual for her to have abilities leeched off of your power after just one time imbibing your blood,” Cian answered.

“Well, I am seeing ghosts. And it’s her fault. I never had this before.” Samantha pointed at Amaliya with an accusing finger. “Thanks for f*cking up my life once again!”

In silence, Amaliya walked over to the couch and sat down on the opposite side of it. Drawing her knees up to her chest, she set her feet on the leather and stared at Samantha with a completely blank expression on her face.

“Your fault,” Samantha repeated.

“Samantha, are you sure you’re seeing ghosts?” Cian asked. Afraid of the close proximity of the two women, Cian moved to sit on the coffee table. He could easily keep them separated if he needed to.

“Oh, yeah. Damn sure.” Samantha wrenched a folder out of her purse and thrust it at him.

“What’s this?”

As Samantha explained all that had occurred, Cian flipped through the notes Jeff had made and the information on the dead woman Samantha had seen.

Amaliya was quiet, her arms folded on top of her knees. She was obviously listening, but wasn’t saying a word.

“And these are?” Cian held up a list with dates and times.

“Well, Jeff and Benchley asked me a lot of questions and I realized that I have been seeing ghosts since I drank from her. I just didn’t realize it because they weren’t all gross and mucked up like Cassidy.” Samantha dabbed at her eyes again. “Jeff thinks I’m getting stronger and that’s why Cassidy asked me to help her.”