Propping himself up straighter again, Lucius arched his brows. "Me? A guest?"
I was surprised, too. To my knowledge, Lucius hadn't cultivated many friends in America.
Before I could hazard a guess, though, Dad stepped away, the door swung wider, and a pert little nose—attached to a stunning face topped by a curtain of hair so fair it practically glowed—poked tentatively into the room. "Hey, Lucius."
Lucius stared toward the door. Stared very hard, almost as though he'd never seen Faith Crosse before.
I assumed he was furious with her for nearly killing him. But suddenly his face broke into a smile. A strange smile. Kind of like he'd had a revelation. "Welcome, Faith," he said. "Do come in. This is a pleasant surprise. I'm sorry I can't rise to greet you."
"No, I'm the one who has to apologize," Faith said, entering my room with an exaggerated pout. "It seems like my fault you're stuck here." She surveyed the room. "I mean, it's just awful."
I narrowed my eyes at her. Does she mean Lucius's injuries? Or my decor?
"My mare and I were on a collision course from the outset," Lucius reassured her. "I courted inevitability; you merely performed the marriage ceremony."
Faith cocked her head, as if she wasn't sure if he was blaming her or not. "Well, I hope you're feeling better." She rummaged in her purse and pulled out an iPod. "And I brought you a get-well gift."
She handed the MP3 player to Lucius, who smiled up at her. "Why, thank you, Faith. That was very thoughtful." He shot me a look. "I guess I won't need yours after all, Jessica."
"I thought you might be bored, stuck in bed," added Faith, who still hadn't acknowledged my existence. "It's the latest, and you can load it up with whatever you want."
"He likes Croatian folk," I noted. Not that anyone had asked for my input.
Lucius raised a finger. "And the Black Eyed Peas. And don't forget Hoobastank. Can any of us forget Hoobastank?"
"Really?" Faith squealed, clapping her hands together. "I love Hoobastank, too!"
Lucius gestured to the bed. "Please, have a seat, Faith."
Three would definitely be a crowd on my narrow twin mattress—especially with a six-foot vampire sprawled there—so I stood. I wasn't really excited to hang out with a rude, egotistical cheerleader, anyway. "I guess I'll get going."
"See you, Jenn." Faith dismissed me, taking my spot next to Lucius. She thumped down on the bed, and he winced, almost imperceptibly.
"Watch his leg," I advised, thinking what a self-absorbed witch she was.
"Jessica," Lucius called me back as I headed for the door. "Wait."
I turned around. "What? Do you need something?"
"No. I have something for you." He felt around behind the pillow and withdrew a book. I sucked in my breath, recognizing my copy of Growing Up Undead: A Teen Vampire's Guide to Dating, Health, and Emotions.
"You abandoned this under your bed." Lucius held it out to me, keeping his hand strategically positioned over the title. "Forgotten amid the considerable dust. And after all the thought I put into the inscription."
I accepted the manual from him, folding it against my chest, hiding it from Faith. "Uh . . . thanks."
"I think you'll find chapter seven helpful," he noted. "I'm sorry I can't offer you more guidance than that. But the book should answer most of your questions."
"I thought this was your area of expertise," I joked obliquely, referring to his inscription.
"To be honest," he said, "I suggest you satisfy any curiosity you might have, and then discard the guide. Permanently. It's really much ado about nothing."
My eyes snapped open. "What?" Since when did Lucius Vladescu think anything related to vampires was "much ado about nothing"? I'd just heard him wax poetic about blood ties. . . .
I tried to read his expression, but Lucius was already focusing back on Faith. "I am rude, though, to speak of private concerns when I have a guest. Please forgive me, Faith."
"No problem, Lucius. I've got lots of time." Faith smiled at me and repeated, "See ya."
"Yes, good-bye, Jessica." Lucius dismissed me, too. A little abruptly, I thought.
"Um ... see you," I said.
But they didn't even notice me. Faith had already scooted in closer to Lucius, demonstrating all the features on his new iPod. Their heads were bent over the little screen, and they were laughing.
I glanced one more time at my stupid second-place ribbon, wishing I had never hung it on the corkboard. Faith was sitting practically right under it. The ribbon in her room was blue. And bigger. A winner's ribbon. My red ribbon was technically brighter, bolder, gleaming in the sunlit room, eye-catching as an exotic bird. And yet, the crimson slip of silk was really just blue's weak, sorry cousin.
"Bye," I repeated. They still didn't answer, already too deep in their conversation, so I left, taking my book.
Pausing at the foot of the staircase, I flipped to chapter seven. It was entitled, "So You Smell Blood? Congratulations!"
I skimmed the opening paragraph, not once but four or five times, reading, "A heightened olfactory awareness—sometimes approaching sexual stimulation—when you are in the presence of blood is a sign that your vampire nature is blossoming!"
My vampire nature.
A few paragraphs later, the guide advised, "Soon you will thirst for blood, especially when emotions run high!"
Above me, I heard Lucius laughing with Faith Crosse. Laughing loud and hard, as if they already shared some longstanding joke.
Chapter 28
"MINDY, WHAT ARE YOU doing here?" I asked, picking my way through the bleachers to where she was perched.
"I could ask you that same thing," she countered, motioning for me to sit next to her.
I dropped my backpack and sat down. "Jake invited me to watch wrestling practice." I caught Jake's eye and waved. He winked up at me, his muscles bulging almost cartoonishly, barely contained by his tight spandex unitard. "So I repeat: What are you doing here?"
"Oh, I don't know." Mindy smiled. "I stop by sometimes, just to watch the practices."
The gym was sectioned off to allow teams with overlapping seasons to share the space. The wrestling mats were unrolled in one corner, the cheerleaders bounced around next to the wrestlers, and the basketball team hogged a full half of the shiny hardwood floor. The air was filled with grunts and cheerlead-ing cries, the squeak of rubber shoes, and the smell of sweat.
A whistle blew sharply. "Vladescu! Front and center, dammit!" Coach Ferrin's booming voice rang out above the din. "You've been at the goddamn water fountain for a damn hour! Get your loitering ass back in the drill!"
I sat up a little straighter, watching as, sure enough, a tall, dark-haired Romanian loped out from near the boys' locker room and onto the court. "Lucius is playing?"
"Is he ever." Mindy sighed dreamily.
"Mindy, is Lucius why you come here?"
"It's not, like, an addiction," she protested. "Maybe just once or twice a week. But I mean, look at him!"
As we watched, Lucius snatched a ball hurled at his chest, took a few aggressive strides toward the hoop, rose seemingly without effort—and crushed the ball through the rim.
"But he hasn't even been back in class yet."
"Yeah, I saw him in the hall before practice," Mindy said. "He said he's coming back to classes tomorrow." She gave me a curious look. "I thought you said his leg was broken?"
"It was hurt. . ." Oh, hell. I'd given up trying to explain the mysteries of Lucius Vladescu. "I guess it's better now."
"I'll say."
"Mindy!"
"Well, look at him in shorts, Jess. Some guys—you wish they'd keep their clothes on. But Lucius makes you wish he'd peel off another layer, even. I mean, wouldn't you like to know what's under there?"
Indeed, there was a reason that Lucius looked so good in clothes. The body beneath them was just about flawless—with the exception of another scar, a wide, serrated mark that sliced across his bowed right
bicep. How did he earn that? And did he have more on other body parts? His left leg, which had been snapped, bore a large black bruise, the only sign that he was still injured. Aside from those minor imperfections, there just wasn't anything to criticize. Okay, even the scars were sexy. Lucius also stood a good head taller than most of the other players, his leg muscles were more defined, and his shoulders were broader, more masculine, without bulging. . . .
I cast a guilty glance at Jake, feeling Id betrayed him.
Mindy followed my gaze. "Oh, hey, look, your boyfriend is grappling away."
"I don't know if he's my boyfriend. . ."
"Come on, Jess. You guys are together. You were out twice last week, you eat lunch together almost every day, and you're here, aren't you?"
I watched Jake spinning around on the mat, grunting. "Can you keep a secret, Mindy?"
"Hey, we've been friends since preschool," Mindy said. "Have I ever spilled your secrets?"
"No. Never." Mindy was a lot of things—flighty, impulsive, sex-obsessed—but she was never disloyal.
"So? Talk."
"I'm not sure if Jake and I are a great match."
Mindy's eyes, rimmed by a thick layer of Cover Girl charcoal eyeliner, widened. "What? I thought you really liked him!"
"He's . . . nice," I said, flinching a little at my use of Lu-cius's despised adjective. "But I don't know if there's a real spark there. Not like I thought there would be."
"Hmm. Well, Jake is no Lukey," Mindy concurred, her gaze wandering back over to the basketball court. "I told you that from the beginning."
"Yes, they are very different," I agreed. If only she knew how different. . . maybe she wouldn't be so keen on her Lukey. Mindy had gotten queasy when we'd dissected worms in sixth grade. She wasn't a blood-drinking-type girl. "Not that I'd be dropping Jake for Lucius," I added. "I'm just saying that I'm not sure about Jake and me."
"And I'm saying you should finally come to your senses and choose Lucius, before he gets sick of chasing you," Mindy observed. "Face it, Jess. Lucius has charisma," she added, nodding toward the cheerleaders. "Look at the way even Faith is staring at him. Lukey just draws your attention."
Sure enough, when I looked across the gym, Faith Crosse was climbing high atop a pyramid of cheerleaders—walking all over people, as usual—but her face was turned toward the basketball court, where Lucius was deep in conference with his coach. The way Lucius stood, hands on narrow hips, towering over Coach Ferrin, it looked like the starting center was the one in charge. I glanced back at Faith. She was atop her people pile but still watching the discussion at midcourt.
"By the way," Mindy interrupted my thoughts. "You look really good today. Is that a new outfit?"
I tore my gaze away from Lucius and Faith and smoothed my crinkled skirt over my knees. "Yeah, do you like it?"
"Definitely. Purple is a good color on you. And the V-neck— very sexy."
"Too sexy?"
"No. Just right. You should wear stuff like that more often. You look . . . exotic. Like a gypsy or something." She stared at my head. "And did you do something to your hair?"
I rumpled my curls. "I used this 'curl polisher,' instead of trying to flatten my hair down every day. I guess I'm tired of fighting nature."
"Looks great." Mindy nodded, assessing me. "Shiny. And different from what everybody else is doing. Kind of cool."
A sharp cry rang out, and I looked to its source just in time to see Faith Crosse topple toward the ground, taking down the entire pyramid. Her squad fell one by one like shrieking dominoes beneath her.
Pretty much everyone on the gym floor ran over to gawk or help. And the first person at the scene of the accident, extending his hand to help Faith to her feet, was none other than Lucius Vladescu.
One by one, the other cheerleaders scrambled up and checked themselves for injuries. Although like everyone else, Faith seemed to be okay, Lucius held her arm and walked her toward the locker room, where they paused, talking.
"Well, well, well." Mindy observed. "If you are dumping Jakey for Lukey, you'd better act fast, because it looks like you just might have competition. Look at her—getting him to play white knight to her damsel in distress!"
I nearly laughed at that. For one thing, Faith had been with football player Ethan Strausser for as long as anybody could remember. More importantly, Lucius would never abandon me for another girl, no matter how skinny her butt looked in her flippy cheerleader skirt. He liked women with curves. And he was pledged to me.
But as I watched, Faith and Lucius laughed loudly, as they had in my bedroom. Then she gave him a flirtatious little shove, and he grinned down at her, looking less burdened somehow than he had in the past. More relaxed in his posture. More . . . free.
"Yup." Mindy chuckled. "If you want Lukey, Id get a move on. Faith's drooling over him like he's a Prada bag that somehow turned up in a sale bin at Wal-Mart. Discount priced and ready to move—right onto her arm."
"No, that's crazy," I protested.
But then again, I'd thought vampires were a crazy concept just a week or so ago.
What did Lucius mean when he said, "late in the game"?
As I watched Lucius and Faith talking, joking together, an unfamiliar sensation like hot pins—jealousy—started to prick at my heart. Another feeling welled inside me, too. A possessive feeling. A strong, proprietary sense that bordered on anger. A sense of ownership. Of my right to Lucius.
My fingers curled around the bleacher seat, squeezing.
And suddenly, for the first time ever, I got thirsty.
Really, really thirsty.
For something I'd never craved before. Just like my vampire sex guide had warned me.
Chapter 29
"I'M TOTALLY BEAT." Mike Danneker yawned, gathering up his books and snapping his laptop's screen shut. "I can't take any more math."
"Just a few more problems," I urged him, opening one of my more challenging calculus texts. "We could do these sample word problems ..."
"No way," Mike said. "And you should go home, too, Jess. You're gonna burn out, studying this hard. The competition is still a few weeks away."
"Which is exactly why we need to practice."
Mike stood, shouldering his laptop case. "See you, Jess. Get some rest."
He strolled off through the aisles, leaving me alone deep in the heart of Woodrow Wilson's library. I turned a page in my notebook, trying to focus. Maybe I was tired: The whole idea of numbers seemed difficult. I was having a hard time training my mind on the problems. Maybe because I couldn't stop thinking about how I'd just recently been in the gym, thirsting for blood.
As I stared at my book, my mind once again drifting far away from limits, derivatives, and integrals, I heard voices and footsteps in the maze of stacks.
"We should just buy papers off the Internet."
Frank Dormand.
"No way. Three guys got caught last year, and two of them lost their football scholarships. They missed a whole year of college ball."
Ethan Strausser.
"So what, we're supposed to find a bunch of books on the League of Nations?" Dormand asked. "Like I give a shit?"
I heard volumes being pulled off shelves.
"Why don't you just get Faith to write 'em for us?" Dormand added. "She's smart."
My ears pricked at Faith's name.
"She's been a total bitch lately," Ethan said. "I don't know what the hell is wrong with her."
"She's hanging out with Vladescu," Frank said, spitting out Lucius's name like it was a gnat that had flown into his mouth. "He's probably rubbing off on her, the bastard."
How much are Lucius and Faith hanging out? How often? And what are they doing? Possessiveness and jealousy rippled through me again. I tried to remember: When was the last time Lucius had mentioned the pact? Courtship? It struck me that I wasn't really sure. How can I not be sure?
"That freak thinks he owns the damn school because he can make a few shots from
center court," Ethan groused.
"There's something wrong with that guy," Dormand noted. "He's not normal."
I sat frozen in my seat, intent upon my eavesdropping. Frank and Ethan couldn't really know anything about Lucius, but it bothered me to think that two of the school's biggest morons were starting to discuss the fact that Lucius was different. I wasn't sure why it bothered me—two stupid goons certainly couldn't be a threat to someone as self-possessed and physically strong as Lucius—but I was unnerved a little.
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