Lying beside you
Here in the dark
Feeling your heart beat with mine,
Softly you whisper
You're so sincere,
How could our love be so blind?

Sam sighed, running his hand through his hair as him and Mercedes finished their dinner.

The past two days had been horrible and amazing for him. On Friday he had taken his girl out on their first date, and it was everything for him. She had come to him that night, in her button down and tight jeans, looking every part of perfect that he imagined she would. He couldn't decide which he liked better, her in a nightshirt or in those fuckable clothes. It was odd how she could look every part of the seductress he remembered, and yet stand in front of him, shy as ever. Mercy didn't know how dangerously close he was that night to doing something she wasn't mentally ready for. Because her body was ready for it, he knew all too well…

She spent their date chewing on her plump lips and sighing nervously, as if Sam was anything but mesmerized by her. God, she was so beautiful that night. Mercedes was gorgeous all the time, but something was different about her then. About them. He didn't know. Maybe it was that the date really showed him how the rest of his life on earth could be. Late night dates and Mercedes and kissing. God, what a way to live.

He knew that Mercedes had started becoming more comfortable around him. She relaxed into her seat and let her clothes droop wonderfully around her. Sam could tell that she had tried to be modest with her clothes, but her body could only be concealed so much. Her hips swelled out in those tight jeans, round and captivating, and that button down only silhouetted the curves that lay underneath it. Mercedes' black tank top peeked out of her shirt and clung to her skin, that small stomach and her breasts. Fucking cleavage.

Sam knew that those few undone buttons weren't enough to show much of anything, but it was his Mercy, and she had body for days. Those tanned breasts strained and pushed out of her tank like the fabric couldn't contain them. And her black-blue curls rested against her, covering part of her chest. Soon, Sam had to devour his Reese's Pieces because he was close to devouring her. Mercedes was mouthwatering.

He really didn't know why she was so surprised when he said that he wanted to kiss her. Sam had been ogling her the whole night—a kiss was the tamest thing he wanted. She fought him the whole way into it, talking about him just getting out of a relationship and whatever else she said. Sam barely paid attention to that because it was BS. He didn't want Quinn, those twittering girls from the concession, or the hotel receptionist. Sam wanted Mercedes. He wanted her then, he wanted Mercedes now, and he'd want her forever.

So he made sure that he kissed her before she could deny that. He made sure that her 'first' kiss was soft and gentle. It was just a simple press, really. And then before she could start spouting off her insecurities like he knew she would, he skimmed his hands down to her waist and kissed her again. Mercedes was sweet and soft, and a little buttery from the popcorn, but delicious all the same. Kissing Mercedes was like coming home. She tangled her hands in his hair and tugged, relinquishing control and letting him guide her. Then, when she began to kiss him harder, Sam stopped—for her sake. Not his.

Sam stopped them then because if he didn't, he would've ended up ripping her clothes off. From the way she looked up at him that night with those big brown eyes—innocent and lustful—to her heaving chest… He didn't know if could control himself for much longer. Who knows if she would've stopped them? Fuck knows he wouldn't have. And Mercedes would've regretted it. He didn't want that.

So he gave her some space and they cooled off during the remainder of the movie. As they walked hand in hand out of the movie room, he figured their date was going to end on a good note. It had been amazing thus far. Perfect. He made sure Mercedes had fun, got to kiss her and didn't lose his self-control, didn't take her somewhere quiet and secluded and have his way with her.

Then Damien showed up.

After the blissful time that he shared with Mercedes, all thoughts of Elites and previous threats of danger fled from his mind. And then Damien came and brought all those thoughts back. He kept name dropping terminology he knew Mercedes wouldn't understand, and had the audacity to leer at her like some pervert. If Damien wasn't there to help, he would've kicked his ass.

Damien had come with information, vital information on the Elite Council's whereabouts and intentions. It was hard, trying to get Damien's part of the story while driving at the speed of light and dodging Mercedes' questions. Damien knew that Mark—the Elitist that hated Sam's guts—was planning on bringing a few spies down to Earth to monitor Sam because he couldn't Reach him anymore. That was because of Damien Shadowing him, of course. And once Mark figured out what was going on—which Damien was sure he already had at this point—he was going to tell the Council. The Elite Council would then send reinforcements after Sam and Mercedes to tear them apart or worse, kill them.

At the time Damien didn't know what the council was doing but he did know that their spies were probably hot on their trails. So Sam drove as far away from Lima as he could—two towns over and to a Renaissance Hotel—so they could recuperate. Sam got two rooms for a couple nights while Damien took the Jeep and ran patrols, scanning the area for spies and getting their dinner.

Mercedes was confused and tired the entire time, asking questions and staring down the hotel receptionist like a hawk. He would've found it adorable if it wasn't for the fact that their lives were in danger. Her life was in danger.

He tried losing himself in kissing her, and that worked for a while, but Damien knocked on their hotel room door before anything good could happen. Damien brought the reality of their situation back to the surface. And with reality came the bad stuff. He managed to get her to eat dinner, and for that he felt like a champion. Sam knew that she was battling bulimia, again, and that was just one more thing they had to conquer. Mercedes for whatever reason—because quite frankly he didn't know why—thought that she needed to lose weight. It was beyond ridiculous. Sam wanted his Mercy with curves. That's one of the things he loved most about her.

Sam hated knowing that Mercedes felt like she wasn't good enough. He hated knowing that at any point in time she could be killed and there wasn't anything he could do to stop it. He hated knowing that when she slept, nightmares plagued her and there was nothing he could do to make them go away. He hated knowing that as he held her at night, their days were numbered—literally.

Saturday was turning out to be one of the worst days of Sam's life. It didn't start off horrible, but it sure as hell turned out that way. He woke up early, tidied their room up, threw trash away and watched a little television. He of course watched TV lying next to Mercedes' sleeping form, and it was a really nice way to start the day actually. Sam could do that for the rest of his life.

That was one of the good moments today.

Things got a little heated while he was watching MSNBC, and remarkably Mercedes wasn't conscious to witness any of it. She had twisted and turned a lot in her sleep, murmuring nonsense. After a while she kicked the cover off of her in favor of curling into Sam's side, locking a leg around him. It was safe to say that he didn't pay attention to the news anymore after that. What man would?

Mercedes was in a button down shirt, and what looked to be a bra and panties. She was so womanly and soft, pressed up beside him, with her thick thigh enfolded with his. She was so lovely and soft and Sam wanted her so, so bad. It was painful.

She snuggled closer to him—in sync with his body's reaction—nestled even closer, her breasts compressed against his arm, and Sam had to remember a few things. Like, he had to remember that she didn't know that they were meant for each other in every possible way, and that he couldn't wake her up with kisses. Couldn't roll on top of her and cover her with kisses, because she probably wouldn't be okay with that. He would have a lot of time to convince her that it was what she wanted, though. He could persuade her by running his lips over her neck and that spot behind her ear she didn't even remember having. But he remembered that wasn't okay.

So unfortunately, Sam had to get his mind on something else then. And he needed a shower.

Slipping out from under Mercedes felt like the most horrible thing to do that morning, but if he didn't she would've been in trouble. Sam wasn't going to be another bad guy in her life forcing something upon her. The hot water felt good on his body, and helped ease some of his stress, but it could only do so much. Images of Mercy kept flashing through his head—her in her underwear curled around him, murmuring in words that made no sense. Mercy clinging closer to him and sighing, her eyes sleepily gazing at his lips. God.

Sam hurried up and switched the water to cold. There truly wasn't any time to be relieving himself when The Elite Council was hot on their trails.

Halfway through toweling off he remembered that he hadn't brought any clothes to the bathroom. Sam considered walking into the room naked, but Mercedes would probably wake up and freak out. He wrapped a towel around his waist and left the bathroom.

Sam realized that they were approaching the afternoon when he looked over at their bed and Mercedes wasn't there, a ray of sunlight on her pillow. He didn't know how much time he spent in the bathroom, but when he left Mercedes was asleep and when he returned she was in the mirror, messing with her hair. She was concentrating on a particular black-blue strand that was a tad frizzier than the rest with a frown on her lips. He resisted rolling his eyes. She was gorgeous and frizzy hair couldn't change that.

"Hey," Sam greeted her, "I thought you were still sleeping."

Mercedes shrugged, turning away and closing her eyes at the sight of him picking up his jeans. He could hear her heartbeat accelerate.

"You should go into the bathroom for all of that." She squeaked.

Maybe if you come with me I will.

Instead of saying that, he laughed at her uneasiness and dropped his towel, stepping into his jeans from last night. "I didn't think about it. I thought you were still sleeping."

She snorted. "That's no excuse."

"Sorry Mercy," He replied, zipping up his pants, "I'll make sure I have your approval next time."

Because there was definitely going to be a next time. "Alright, you can look now."

Mercedes tentatively did, opening her eyes slowly like he may have still been changing even then. He saw her eyes take in the sight of him shirtless and still slightly wet. Her eyes darkened. She shifted on her feet for a moment, and then asked him something. He really didn't know what she said, something about his shirt or maybe asking where it was, but that wasn't important. Not anymore.

Something sweet—sweeter than sweet—wafted to his nose. Sam almost couldn't place it, but then he remembered where he had smelled that before. It was in her mind, the night that he had touched her for the first time. It was distinctively Mercedes, but more potent. Her arousal.

Sam's whole body went rigid and his pants got tighter than they had ever been. He was pretty sure, actually, that if he dumped a whole ice chest on his lap he would still be hard. His hand twitched impulsively, needing to grab Mercedes. Because she needed him, and she was his Promise and he would always give her what she needed—

"Your shirt…what's wrong?"

Mercedes was worried, and Sam knew it, but she was concerned for all the wrong reasons. She should've been worried because he could smell her lust and the feeling was quite mutual and she was about to feel how much so. "You…I can smell…"

Her beautiful eyes squinted in confusion. God, wasn't it obvious? Mercedes took a step toward him and her scent only got stronger, fogging up his brain. "Smell what?"

Apparently not.

She was getting closer to him, and now there was no turning back. Because the moment she touched him he wouldn't fight it any longer. Sam wouldn't fight throwing her back on the bed or pushing her against a wall because—because Mercedes was his and she needed him and he had to give her what she needed—

Sam shook his head. "You."

Mercedes face looked hurt for a moment and then she casted her eyes down. "Sorry."

Wait, what? Sorry for what?

Sam was incredulous. Was Mercedes apologizing for smelling good? Was she really apologizing for smelling so fucking delicious that he was about to lose it? The nerve of her, getting aroused and feeling ashamed because she didn't realize that he was salivating. Honestly.

Mercedes was still walking away. Sam couldn't let her leave feeling the way she did. He stuck his arm out and stopped her, inhaling again. "I didn't mean—Mercedes you smell so…so…It's hard for me to explain. Just hurry and get your shower so we can talk to Damien."

Ugh, Damien. Thank God he reminded himself what they were there for, because amidst all the lovely moments with his woman he damn near forgot. It was so easy to, with Mercy staring up at him with those innocent eyes.

"Okay." She didn't even know.

So he stopped her again by pulling her toward him. "You're amazing, Mercy, did you know that? You're perfect."

She had to know. Mercedes had to know that she was perfect and beautiful and all his. His. He curled a hand around her waist and held her still because she was his. He needed to hold her and feel her, possess her and claim her because Mercedes was his Promise. All his and no one else's.

He swooped down and kissed her, fierce, hard and fast. Possession and lust rolled into one so hot that he didn't know which one he was fueled by. But love was there, of course. Always. She shyly reached out her tongue to swipe his lip and he about lost it, pushing her against the wall behind them.

Mercedes moaned, fucking whimpered into his mouth, and he was so close to being done. So close to reaching down and grabbing her ass. He wanted to squeeze and massage and grasp her thigh so he could hitch it on his hip and be even closer to her. Sam clutched her ribcage instead.

Sam pulled back slowly because if he didn't he was going to break and lose it. Her scent was assaulting his senses, soaking into his head and slowly taking over. She needed him, and he wanted to give it to her, but he couldn't. Not yet, not when Damien was waiting and so much was going on.

It was hard though, when the only girl he'd ever want was making everything else disappear around them.

Mercedes was a trooper throughout the explanation of Elites. He expected her to be stubborn and not believe a word they said but after Damien shadowed her, well, she didn't have a choice. Sam knew it had to be hard on her, so he rubbed her back as much as possible. And when he explained the Promise process, she took that well too.

Until he said that he knew what she had been doing for the past four years. Six years really, if he counted when her disordered thinking began. Mercedes had jumped up from the bed they were sitting on and paced crazily, muttering to herself and choking back tears. A mental breakdown was not that far away. So he wrapped her up in his arms and let her cry on him. What else could he do? The biggest skeleton in her closest was exposed.

In a way Sam was happy that they would be going home soon because Mercedes needed her mother. He might've been fine running on Mercedes alone and nothing else, but she was different. She needed her family too.

Then Damien revealed that his Promise was Quinn, a huge shocker to Mercedes and him. Of all the people he could've guessed, Quinn was nowhere near his mind. He had just gotten rid of the girl, now here she was, back in his life again. Oddly enough, he could see the connection with Quinn and Damien. He was an asshole; she was a serious bitch sometimes. It worked.

But God, did the Elite Council really have to pair Damien with Quinn? He didn't want to go through her drama again. Not when she was liable to take her heartbreak out on Mercedes. Mercedes didn't need that. And she definitely didn't need Damien pulling his shit either.

Seriously, help or not Sam was about to kick his ass when he started his mess about Quinn's grief being Mercedes' fault. Because it wasn't, if anything it was Sam's fault.

Despite Mercedes talking about the tables being turned and whatever other sympathetic shit she said, Sam didn't care. He'd spent the better part of five years watching Mercedes be talked down to, so of course he was fucking done with that shit.

Mercedes had pushed him away when he tried to shield her from the ugly truths that Damien was spitting at her, and that hurt. He was just trying to protect her like he always did, and this was no exception. But still, she pushed him away. Then the next whammy of the night that was dropped on them.

There was going to be a war.

It wasn't that surprising to Sam actually, that they were going to have to fight the others. It didn't surprise him at all, because fighting was the only thing that worked. That's how wars were won, and how countries were formed. Fighting. If Sam honestly believed that running away with Mercedes for the rest of their human lives was enough to keep them alive he'd take that chance. But it wasn't.

Mercedes went a little crazy after that. She couldn't form words, her heart beat stopped a little bit then sputtered back to life. She asked a question about who was fighting in the war and he answered honestly. He was fighting in it, of course, and she was going to go somewhere safe.

Sam was glad that Damien had reinforcements coming, because he was more than sure that he was going to die against an army of Elites. Maybe they'd actually stand a chance in he had people on his side.

Mercedes had sobbed against him again, a broken sound, pain and anguish and disbelief radiating off of her. She swore up and down that he couldn't leave her, but he had to. Didn't she understand that? He wasn't going to go out to war with a death wish, but there was no way he was staying and letting someone else fight his battles. Sam was a man, Mercedes' man, and he was gonna go defend her. It was who he was—and what he used to be. He was fighting for her, for him, for their love. Sam knew there was a great chance he was going to get himself killed, but there wasn't any other choice.

So when she finally accepted the fate of him eventually leaving her, Mercedes pressed her lips to his in such an urgency he was breathless. She wanted him to touch her, kiss her, and who was Sam to deny her that?

In the back of his mind throughout their exchange he wondered if Mercedes was attacking him with such fervor because he was leaving soon. Then he realized that she probably was. And that's not what Sam wanted, so he was glad when Damien knocked on their door stopping them. He wanted his girl to come at him because she was ready to give herself to him, not because he could be dying soon.

Damien brought them pizza and Dr. Pepper, Sam's favorite meal combinations, and he made sure to eat as much as possible. Mercy managed to eat a slice. It broke his heart. Sam was too stressed out to fight with Mercedes about eating. He loved her with everything he was, and he felt like a hero every time she ate in front of him, but he couldn't fight the world and her too. He needed her on his side, not against him.

Damien came with dinner bearing the bad news of how long they hand until the war. He said ten days.

Ten days to get Quinn to be with Damien. Ten days to get all the Promises and Elites together for possibly their last time. Ten days to train and get ready for war. Ten days to be with Mercedes and show her how much he loved her.

It wasn't enough time.

Luckily, Damien went to Wal Mart while he was patrolling the area and picked up some clothes for them so Mercedes could have something fresh and clean to wear tonight. Though Sam would always prefer her in a shirt—or better, nothing.

While she went to the bathroom to change Sam changed into sweatpants and contemplated ways to talk to Quinn. He could try and meet up with her sometime tomorrow when he dropped off Mercedes at her house so she didn't have to deal with Quinn. That would be a great idea, actually. Sam was feeling pretty good about himself when Mercedes left the bathroom, clad in her graphic tee and sweats. She was endearing.

As much as the sight of Mercedes coming to lay in bed with him fueled his desire for her, he just wanted to cuddle with her tonight. That sounded girly and shit, but whatever. Only insecure man worried about how it sounded when they admitted that they liked to cuddle. Besides, it was a whole different ballgame when you loved each other. It just was.

"Sam?" Mercedes asked sleepily, nuzzling his neck.

He pulled her until she was completely on top of him. There, much better. "Yeah?"

"I have to tell you something."

Sam was almost on the verge of drifting into a good sleep, but this sobered him right out of it. "What?"

"I…" The soft warm weight of Mercedes tensed up.

He rubbed her back soothingly, trying to get her to relax into him again. "You can tell me anything, you know that."

"I know," She said, biting her lip, "But it's just, you have a lot going on already and I don't want to put more stress on you—"

He tightened his hold on her. "Mercy." She shivered at his tone.

"I don't care if I have to go save the world tomorrow, I'll always have time for you."

"Okay," She started hesitantly, "Well yesterday when we were driving over here I called my mom to tell her I was going to be at a friend's house for a couple of days like you said…"

"...And?"

"And, she kind of alluded to wanting to have a talk with me. I think I know why."

Sam was confused. "Okay?"

"Well," Mercedes sighed, "I think mom knows about my…you know. And she probably wants to give me a huge lecture about—about that and going to therapists and I just can't."

"Why are you telling me this?"

She hid her face in his neck. "Willyougohomewithme?"

"What?"

"Only for a few hours," She pleaded, looking at him, "So she won't immediately jump down my throat about the food in the trash—"

"What?"

Sam was trying to keep up with the conversation, but she was starting to ramble.

"…And then you can leave, I promise."

He shook his head, "Mercedes, hold on."

She stopped.

"Start from the beginning and tell me what you said."

"Oh," Mercedes chuckled nervously, "I was asking if you would go home with me."

"Why?" As much as Sam loved following her wherever she went, if her mother wanted to talk to her daughter, he had to respect that.

"Because I—I—" Her eyes filled with tears, "I just can't deal with her tomorrow Sam! I'm already upset about you leaving and now…now…"

Mercedes was practically in hysterics again. He could see the panic in her eyes. Her eyes were glassy, like she wasn't even there with him. Something told him that Mercedes had finally opened the dam of emotions she kept at bay for so long. She was an open book now, and what did he see?

Fear. Panic. Grief. Maybe even heartbreak.

He cradled her in his arms and waited for her wave of hysteria to pass. It did.

"Mercedes, I'm sorry."

"Sam—"

"No," He said firmly, cutting her off, "I'm sorry because I can't do this for you. I'm sorry because I won't do this with you. We all have our own personal demons to face, Mercy. I can't hold your hand and make talking to your mother any easier. You have to face that alone, and come out stronger like we both know you can. She's your mom and no matter what she wants what's best for you."

Mercedes looked at him with half-crazed eyes. "And what if she sends me to a treatment facility, huh? What then? You want her tearing us apart even more then we're gonna be?"

"No, of course I don't. But this has to happen; you have to talk to your mother Mercedes. You have to get better. That's all I want."

"Mom's gonna make me go inpatient, Sam. She's going to make me leave and I won't have a choice. How can I be safe from the Council in a crazy home?"

Sam bit his lip in thought. What Mercedes was saying had a point. "Okay, okay. I understand now, and I'll help you. But you need to promise me something."

She squinted. "What?"

"You have to go to therapy once this is all over. You have to get better. Even if—even if I'm not with you anymore to support you through it."

Mercedes stared at him for a moment. Then her expression fell. Her eyes filled with tears again and she smashed her face into his neck, breathing in deep.

"I promise."

THANK YOU: carebearcaryn21, TeamSethLover, Haitianm, suninthenightsky, AntoniaSayonara (I lol-ed at your review), LovesamcedesStory, LadiJ, Samcedes5ever (its 3:14 a.m. where I am and look at us, we're people of the night), krazykay23 (and the award for consistently making me squeal with delight over long reviews goes to…), randomlittleme, Oxford, TBloves2read, and NCC-0419.

Finally we get Sam's POV! It was long overdue, again, but I hope I didn't disappoint. I felt like adding what Sam was going through during chapter 19 instead of rehashing the heat from last chapter, because it would actually be something new. Did we like it?

So how do we feel about Sam in this one? Did you enjoy him going over how he felt during the last few chapters or…? Did you like how he dealt with Mercedes? And are you excited for the Mercedes-Mom-Sam talk next chapter?

Please review!