be facing a way bigger challenge than resisting regular human blood. Today we would be around members of the Clann, each one of them full of the most tempting blood any vamp could ever wish for, thanks to the powerful extra energy their magical abilities filled them with. Tristan was going to feel like a newly recovering alcoholic forced to spend eight hours trapped inside a bar.
A bar where just asking for a drink could risk starting a war, and would also probably send the vamp council after us, as well.
And there was nothing more I could do to help him resist that urge to drink.
He looked down at his feet, staring without seeing, his mind filling with images and memories...of the feel of that hunter’s fragile neck trapped within his hand, the human’s heartbeat pounding beneath his fingertips. The taste of the blood as it had rushed down Tristan’s throat, warming him, filling him not just with energy and life but a rush of power and excitement, as well.
Just a short moment in time that had seemed so good yet now had become his worst mistake ever. A mistake that had haunted his nightmares yet again last night.
He hated himself for that mistake, for what he had done and nearly could have done to that innocent human. Thanks to his victim’s blood memories, he knew that man, though divorced, still loved and missed his wife and the two little girls he only got to see at Christmas now that their mother had moved them three states away. He knew that man had been in those woods hunting only because this Christmas, he hadn’t had enough money to see his girls, so he’d gone hunting alone to try to distract himself from his misery and loneliness. And he’d nearly died because Tristan had lost control.
“But he didn’t die,” I murmured, my heart hurting for Tristan so much it caused a physical ache within my chest. “He’s still alive with no memory of what happened.”
“Yeah, well, you and I sure remember.”
Tristan wouldn’t look at me now, his gaze rising only as high as my knees. But I could see the misery in his eyes.
All the joking around about who would drive us to school this morning had been an act, a distraction to keep him from thinking about what he would be facing today. He was worried, too, afraid he wouldn’t be strong enough, and scared to admit that fear to me or even to himself.
And here I was with my stupid, wayward memories adding to his fear and making his first day back even harder on him.
“I’m sorry I remembered that.” I laid a hand along one hard side of his face, waiting until he looked me in the eyes. “I wish I wasn’t worried, or that at least I could turn off this mind connection thing sometimes so you wouldn’t have to feel my worry. But just because I’m worried doesn’t mean I don’t have faith in you. I know you’ll do your best to stay in control today. I just also know how hard it can be to fight the bloodlust, especially for Clann blood.” I hesitated, then handed him a thin braid of red, brown and white.
“What’s this?” he asked, his voice coming out rough.
“Remember that old tapestry blanket we always shared at the cabin? I pulled some threads from it before we left.”
One corner of his mouth hitched as he stared down at the braid.
I gently took it back from him then tied it around his left wrist. “And then I added a little oomph to it to help block any vamp wards the descendants might be using today. It should last you through at least the morning, if not the whole day, and we can recharge it tonight if needed.” I had a matching one tied around my left ankle under my sock, so I wouldn’t have to answer any questions from my friends about it.
Now both sides of his mouth curved up. He lifted his head and looked at me, his eyes softer as some of the fear there was replaced with love. “Thanks, Sav.”
I leaned in for one last kiss, resting my palms against his chest, his strong arms wrapped around my waist, feeling his heart beating beneath my fingertips.
I rested my forehead against his. “No matter what happens today, I’ll still love you,” I whispered, wishing there was some other spell I could do to somehow magically make this day easier for him.
We stood there in silence for a moment longer, both of us trying not to think or worry.
I wanted to stay with him in the parking lot. I’d gotten spoiled, used to being with him all the time. Maybe it was because he carried some of my blood within himself now, or maybe it was because I could read his thoughts as easily as my own. Whatever the reason, over the past five months, he had become like an extension of my own body, so much so that sometimes when we held hands I could no longer tell where his hand ended and mine began. All I knew was that when I was with him I felt warmer, almost human again. And when we were apart, I felt cold and every bit the inhuman hybrid I really was.
But it was time to return to reality, whether I was ready for it or not.
So I took a deep breath then forced myself to step away from him, hating the feel of his arms loosening around me and then their complete absence. The moment we no longer touched, I could already feel my body losing the tiny amount of heat it always managed to generate from direct contact between our skin, setting me up for a long day of hiding shivers I wasn’t supposed to have in the humid, late, East Texas spring.
As I crossed the parking lot and headed for Charmers practice, trying to resist the urge to rub the growing chill from my arms, I looked back over my shoulder at Tristan and said, “See you for lunch? I’ve got chem class second period today. Maybe you could pick me up outside it?”
One corner of his mouth lifted in a half smile as he said, “It’s a date.”
The third floor of the sports and arts building—where the Charmers’ dance room, storage closets and director’s office were located—had a great second set of stairs that led down to the left side of the school theater’s stage. This backstage access between the floors allowed the dancers and stage crew to easily run up and down the stairs during shows without having to be seen in the second floor foyer where audience members might be. It was also the most direct route for me this morning. Two weeks before a Spring Show usually meant the Charmers would still be working out the kinks in each show number’s choreography and transitions, which meant frequent rewinding and fast-forwarding to specific parts in each song. The theater’s built-in sound system was harder to do this kind of stuff on, so I figured we would probably still be using the portable sound system for a few more days.
The sophomore managers were running even later than I was, judging by the fact that the sound system and trainer’s bag were still in the director’s office. By the time I retrieved the equipment and brought it down the backstage stairs, most of the Charmers had already arrived and gathered to stretch in the two aisles that cut through the auditorium’s seating, and the sophomore managers were just strolling in through the main auditorium doors.
The familiar dusty smells of paint and freshly sanded wooden props made me sigh and smile. Now here was a silver lining to having to come back to Jacksonville. While football season came in a close second, Spring Show season was my absolute favorite time of the Charmers performance year. I was lucky that we’d returned in time for me to help with it. Normally Spring Show happened a few weeks earlier in the year. But this year for some reason the director had pushed the show back, and we still had two more weeks of rehearsals left. Maybe there had been some scheduling conflict for use of the theater?
I slipped through the wing’s shadows and along the side of the center stage, stopping at its front edge, or apron, to set down the sound system. Immediately several people gasped and whispered my name, and all conversation in the auditorium died.
I froze and looked up to find forty-plus dancers equally frozen in midstretch, their eyes blinking fast as they openly stared at me.
That’s when I realized I was on stage, both literally and figuratively.
And though the theater was silent, their thoughts were anything but.
Oh. My. God. She actually had the nerve to come back?
Miss Savannah’s