Beth_Fantaskey-Jessicas guide to dating the dark side.

by Jessica's Guide to Dating the Dark Side (lit)

  Lucius urged his mount into a trot. Then a canter. It was half dance, half barroom brawl.

  "Wow." Faith watched with appreciation. "Lucius must have, like, some kind of magic. I really thought he'd get killed."

  "Give him time," I replied under my breath. "Just give him time. Someone'll kill him yet."

  Chapter 20

  "THANKS FOR WINNING me the plush hot dog." I squeezed the big stuffed wiener Jake had won by throwing two softballs through a clown's mouth. "I had a great time at the carnival."

  "Sorry I couldn't get the bear."

  "Well, a hot dog's nice. It's different, you know?"

  We were sitting in Jake's big Chevy 4x4, idling in front of the farm, trying to figure out how to say good night. Was I supposed to just hop out of the truck at this point? Would he get out, too?

  "Did I tell you that you look really great in that dress?" Jake asked.

  He hadn't, but I'd seen the look in his eyes when he'd come to the door to pick me up. The same admiration that I'd seen in Lucius's eyes back in the boutique. All night long, I'd caught guys checking me out. At first I'd felt a little self-conscious. But it was easy to get used to that kind of attention.

  "I like your hair up like that, too," Jake added.

  I twisted one of the tendrils that straggled out of my updo. I'd done my best to mimic the effect Lucius had achieved just by twining his fingers in my hair. "Thanks."

  "I'm glad you asked me to go with you. I had a great time."

  There was a long pause.

  "I guess I'll get going," I finally said, resting my hand on the door handle.

  "Oh . . . uh, yeah. I'll get the door." Jake shut off the engine and jumped out, coming around to my side. He opened my door, and I tried to climb down, almost falling in my heels.

  "Crap!" Classy, Jess.

  As I stumbled, though, Jake caught me, and suddenly we were very close to each other. Face to face.

  That's when he kissed me. Really kissed me. His lips were softer than I expected, and a little wet. My lips parted slightly, like I'd seen on TV and in the movies for years and years. It seemed so natural as it was happening—and then our tongues met. Jake kind of squashed his tongue against mine. So this is what it's like. . . . The feeling wasn't electric, but I felt a thrill of happiness. Jake wrapped his arms around me, a bearlike em­brace. A wrestler's hug. Our tongues twisted around and around and Jake stroked the small of my back. Nice. And it would no doubt get better with practice. Maybe I would bor­row Mindy's article on "75 Sex Tricks to Drive Him Wild."

  Jake pulled away first. "I gotta get going, or I'll break cur­few. I'll call you, okay?"

  I realized I was still clutching the stuffed toy. "Yeah. Sure."

  He leaned in to kiss me again. A light, sweet touch on the lips. "Later."

  "Bye." I stood there watching as the truck pulled away.

  When the taillights had almost disappeared into the dark­ness, I walked toward the porch, swishing the hem of my dress against my knees. My first real kiss.

  "Well, how was it?"

  The deep voice coming from the darkness startled me, stopping me short. I peered into the gloom. "Lucius?"

  "I'm right here."

  I followed his voice to the front porch steps, where he sat in the shadows next to a dimly flickering jack-o'-lantern. I walked closer. "You were spying on me."

  Lucius held out a bowl. "I'm on candy duty. Want some? I think it's mostly soy nuts left. The children were not happy with the selection."

  I accepted a pack and sat down next to him on the step. "We don't get many trick-or-treaters out here. Nobody lives within a mile."

  "Oh." Lucius shrugged. "I guess it was me that hated the soy nuts." He pulled the stuffed hot dog from my arms. "Your parents won't like this in the house. Meat toys. Did Squatty win that with some feat of physical prowess?" He tossed the wiener over his shoulder, onto a chair on the porch.

  I ignored the taunt. "You were waiting for me, weren't your

  Lucius stared into the dark distance. "How was it?"

  "How was what?"

  "He kissed you. How was it?"

  I smiled, remembering. "Nice."

  "Nice?" Lucius gave a short, derisive snort. "I repeat one more time: Nice is overrated."

  "Please, don't go there," I urged. Don't ruin this.

  "When you kiss the right person, it will be a hell of a lot better than nice," Lucius grumbled.

  "You have no right to say that." I stood to go inside, smoothing my dress. He would not spoil this moment for me. It would not happen.

  To my surprise, Lucius relented. "You are right. That was rude. I had no right." He patted the step. "Please. Keep me company. I find that I'm melancholy this evening."

  "You should have gone to the carnival," I said, sitting back down.

  Lucius took a deep breath, exhaled. "There's nothing there for me."

  "It was kind of fun. There were games, and we—"

  "Do you ever, for one minute, look at my life from my per­spective?" Lucius interrupted, a bit sharply. "Think about how I might feel?" He turned to face me, his eyes glowing dimly, like the jack-o'-lantern's. "Do you ever look beyond yourself?"

  "What? Are you . . . homesick or something?"

  "Something like that, yes." The glimmer flickered to life. "For god's sake. I live in a garage, away from everything I've ever known. I'm sent here to court a woman who dismisses me in favor of a peasant—"

  "Jake is a perfectly nice guy, Lucius."

  Lucius snorted again. "Is that what you want out of life? Nice? Must everything be nice?"

  "Nice is . . . nice," I protested.

  Lucius shook his head. "Oh, Antanasia. I could show you things so far beyond nice, they'd spin your lovely head."

  His voice had changed suddenly. Grown even lower and more throaty. There was a quality in it I'd never heard before but instinctively recognized. Sexual power. Lust. Desire. An edgy, angry, frustrated desire.

  "Lucius . . . maybe we should go inside."

  But he only edged nearer, spoke more softly, yet still with that hint of barely suppressed frustration. "I could show you things that would make you forget everything you know here, in your safe little life ..."

  I swallowed hard. What can he show me? What kind of not-nice things? Do I want to know?

  Yes. No. Maybe.

  “ Lucius . . .”

  "Antanasia." He leaned even closer to me, and I found that he was breathing hard, and so was I. Inhaling the power he al­ways exuded, sharing his rarified air. "Don't you ever wonder about that part of you? The part that is Antanasia?"

  "Antanasia is just a name . . ."

  "No. Antanasia is a person. A part of you." Then Lucius caressed my cheek, tracing it with his thumb, and I found my­self closing my eyes, sort of swaying, like I was a cobra under the spell of a snake charmer. I knew I should stop whatever was happening, but I just sat there, swaying.

  "That other half of you. That half would not settle for 'nice,'" Lucius said softly. He cupped my chin, and I could feel his breath on my mouth now. Cool and close. "I finally saw it, that part of your being, your spirit, when you put on that dress . . . You look so beautiful in that dress. It transforms you ..."

  My dress ... I'd started to enjoy a sense of power when guys had watched me at the carnival. But with Lucius, I felt that power slip out of my control and into his hands. He took the reins as surely as he did with his half-wild horse. And that was terrifying. I licked my lips, stomach taut with that queer mix of hunger and loathing and fear that I'd felt that first time he'd bared those teeth up in his room.

  Will he do that again? Will he? Should he?

  "Antanasia." His lips barely touched mine, and a craving ripped through me, like the craving in my dream for that deca­dent, irresistible, forbidden chocolate. No. . . I just kissed Jake. . . . I don't want to want Lucius. . . . He was everything I didn't want. He thought he was a goddamn vampire. And yet I felt myself pressing against him, felt my h
and reaching up of its own accord to stroke his jaw, where the scar was, a jagged path of smooth skin tracing through the rough stubble. The violence in his childhood. . . it had made him hard. Dangerous, even? Maybe?

  Lucius's arm slipped around my back, and he brushed my lips again, less gently this time. Even his mouth was hard. But I wanted to taste more. "Like this, Antanasia," he murmured. "This is how it should be . . . not nice. . ."

  He was tempting me to want more. The image of him zip­ping up my dress, assured, knowing, flashed through my brain. Experienced. . . Mom had warned me. Don't get in over your head, Jess. . . .

  Lucius slid his hand up to my neck, circling the nape with his fingers, his thumb stroking the hollow of my throat. "Let me kiss you, Antanasia . . . really kiss you ... as you should be kissed."

  "Please, Lucius . . ." Was I begging or protesting?

  "You belong with me," he said softly. "With our kind . . . You know you do . . . Stop fighting it. . . Stop fighting me. . ."

  No!

  I must have cried out loud, because Lucius pulled back abruptly. "No?" His voice was incredulous, his eyes filled with shock and uncertainty.

  My mouth was moving, but no sound was coming out. Yes? No? "I just... I just kissed Jake," I finally stuttered. "A few minutes ago." Wasn't it wrong to mess around with two guys on one night? Wasn't that sort of. . . slutty? What the hell was this dress making me do? And that thing he'd said about "'our kind..."

  No.

  Lucius yanked his hand from my throat and leaned for­ward on the steps, doubling himself over, digging his hands into his long, black hair with a sound that was half groan, half growl.

  "Lucius, I'm sorry . . ."

  "Don't say that."

  "But I am sorry .. ." Yet I didn't quite know what I was sorry for. For kissing Jake? For almost kissing Lucius? For mak­ing us stop?

  "Go inside, Jessica." Lucius was still bent over his knees, fingers laced in his hair. "Now. Please."

  And then the front door opened. "I thought I heard voices out here," Dad said, pretending to be oblivious to the obvious tension.

  "Dad," I squeaked, popping up. "I just got home. Lucius and I were talking."

  "It's getting late," Dad said, pulling me to his side. "And Lucius, I think it's safe to say trick or treat is over. You should probably head up to bed."

  "Of course, sir." Lucius slowly unfolded himself and rose to his feet, too. He seemed weary as he handed the bowl to my dad. "Happy All Hallows' Eve."

  "Yeah, good night," I said. Then I tore inside, ran upstairs, and yanked off my dress, tossing it to the back of my closet. I tugged at my hair until it tumbled back down around my shoulders. All back in place and normal. After pulling on a T-shirt and sweats to sleep in, I crept to the window and looked out at the garage. But Lucius's light was off. He'd gone to bed. Or perhaps he'd gone out into the night.

  Mom knocked on my door. "Jessica? Are you all right?"

  "Fine, Mom," I lied.

  "Do you want to talk?"

  "No." I just kept watching Lucius's window, not sure what I was looking for. "I just want to sleep."

  "Well, then . . . good night, honey."

  Mom's footsteps receded down the hall and I climbed into bed, shutting my eyes tight. I would not—would not—wonder what would draw Lucius into the darkness. Given the mood I'd left him in, I honestly feared it might be something "not nice."

  Chapter 21

  DEAR VASILE,

  What a mess here. What a mess. This would be so much eas­ier to express if you'd just try e-mail. It's available everywhere these days. Do consider it, please, for the duration.

  Until then, I have the difficult task of informing you via post that the entire pact seems to stagger, endlessly and irrevocably, to­ward oblivion.

  This evening . . . where to begin? What to say?

  If that was not the moment, then I don't know what more I can do. If Antanasia did not feel as I felt at that instant in time, if she had the presence of mind to pull back, actually to cry out "No!" to me when I will admit I was too far lost to her . . . I honestly don't know what more I can do.

  I am sure you can infer, from the lines above, what passed between us, in a general sense. I will not disgrace myself—or dishonor Antanasia—by elaborating with details. To do so would be not only humiliating but ungentlemanly. And surely you understand.

  Have I really been bested by a peasant? A squatty, obtuse, parasitical peasant?

  Perhaps in the morning, the situation will appear less grim. One can only hope.

  In the meantime, I don't suppose you might offer me some in­sights into the punishment I will face in the event of failure on my part? I should like to begin preparing myself mentally. Espe­cially if I face the worst. I have always preferred to confront fate with shoulders back and head high, as you taught me. And one can best do that if one has the opportunity to steel oneself.

  Yours in doubt and with no small measure of confusion and concern,

  Lucius

  Chapter 22

  "YOU'RE GOING TO do fine, dear," Mom promised, pin­ning my number on the back of my riding jacket.

  "I'm going to throw up," I said. "Why did I sign up for this?"

  "Because we grow by challenging ourselves," my mom replied.

  "If you say so." In a few minutes, my turn would come. I would ride Belle into the 4-H ring, and we would jump a se­ries of obstacles.

  The whole thing would last about three minutes, tops.

  So why was I so terrified?

  Because you might fall. Belle might balk. You're not an athlete; you're a mathlete. . . .

  "I should have just raised a calf, like last summer," I said, groaning. "All you have to do is walk into the ring and wait to see if you won a ribbon."

  "Jessica, you are a fine horsewoman," Mom insisted, spin­ning me around by the shoulders to look into my eyes. "And it's not as though you've never competed in front of people before ..."

  "But that's math," I protested. "I'm good at math."

  "You're a good rider, too."

  I thought of Faith and Lucius. "But not the best."

  "Then today is an excellent time to push your boundaries. Risk a second or even third place."

  I glanced across the field, where Lucius was cantering on his horse, which he'd named "Hell's Belle." Ha-ha.

  "Risks aren't always so great," I said, watching Lucius work to control the still half-wild animal. Lucius was the only one who could touch her. He insisted that she was misunderstood, but I thought the mare was just plain evil.

  "That's a little too risky," Mom conceded, following my gaze. She sighed. "I hope he's going to be all right."

  The way she said it, I got the weird feeling that she wasn't just talking about the jumper class competition.

  "He needs his number, too," Mom added. She shaded her eyes, waving to Lucius.

  He raised a hand, acknowledging, and trotted over, drop­ping from his mount and looping the reins around a fence post. Hell's Belle would never be the kind of horse that could wait without a tether.

  Lucius bowed slightly. "Dr. Packwood. Jessica."

  I gave a small, uncomfortable wave. "Hey, Lucius."

  He turned around, and my mom pinned on his number. To my surprise, Mom then spun Lucius around, just like she'd done with me—and hugged him. Surprise blew up to shock when Lucius actually hugged back. When did those two bond? Sometime since Halloween, I guessed. Lucius and I had given each other a wide berth since our weird moment on the porch.

  "Good luck," my mother said, brushing imaginary lint off Lucius's impeccable, perfectly fitted show coat. "And wear your helmet," she added. "It's mandatory."

  "Yes, yes, safety first," Lucius said, voice dripping sarcasm. "I'll go find it." He looked at me, eyes neutral. "Good luck."

  "You, too."

  Lucius untied his horse and led her off. Mom watched him, face tense.

  "He'll be fine," I promised her.

  "I hope."

  "I
'm second, right?" I asked.

  "Yes. After Faith."

  Great. The toughest act I could possibly follow. Faith didn't just compete in the annual 4-H show. She did bigger horse shows on her expensive gelding. My stomach clenched again.