Cursed Hearts (A Crossroads Novel)

by Light

  “Handsome? You look old enough to be her father.”

  “I do not,” Rome said, rubbing a hand over the stubble along his jaw. “Better than some baby-faced brat.”

  “I’m fifteen, what do you want from me? Besides, I’ve been told I’m very well developed for my age,” he smirked.

  “Are you new?” Aria asked, trying to steer the conversation away from their odd little argument.

  Rome barely pulled himself away from glaring at Christian long enough to answer her. “Yeah,” he said. “Is it that obvious?”

  “No, I just saw the school map sticking out of your pocket. Do you need help finding anything?”

  “I’m new,” Christian grinned. “I need help finding—everything.”

  Especially your room, he thought.

  Ariahna wasn’t Christian’s usual type; she looked a little too studious for his liking. Still, he couldn’t deny the fact that she was easy on the eyes. She was cute and petite, with an innocent smile and lickable lips. It didn’t hurt that she had curves in all the right places, either. Not even an hour into the day and he’d already found his first target. He had to admit, that felt good. Not as good as it was going to feel to rub it in Rome’s face, but—

  All in due time, he thought.

  Aria spared Christian a curious look. She knew he wasn’t a new student. He was already wearing his school uniform, for one. And besides that, she’d seen him around campus before.

  “I’m sorry, I’m being rude.” He extended his hand to her in greeting, a deceptively kind smile painted on his face. “Christian Reed. It’s really the only name you need to remember.”

  Rome reached over quickly, curling his fingers around Christian’s hand. He squeezed just hard enough to hear the soft, unsettling sound of his bones creaking under the pressure. “I’d say it was a pleasure to meet you, but I’d be lying straight through my teeth.”

  Christian let out a hot, pained breath.

  Rome tossed his hand away a moment later, turning to smile at Aria. He did a double-take when he realized she was gone. He’d barely caught her wandering over to the sitting area, and he turned to follow, hesitating just long enough to leave Christian with a warning.

  “Stay away from her,” he said.

  Christian narrowed his eyes at him in distaste.

  “…Hey, weren’t you going to show me around?” Rome asked.

  “You looked a little busy.”

  “What, that? We were just messing around.”

  Aria shot him a skeptical smile.

  “So, um… what’s with the ties? Yours is silver and blue, but I thought I saw someone wearing a maroon and gold one when I walked in.” He pinched the end of her tie as he spoke, letting the fabric slip out from between his fingers.

  Ariahna smoothed her hand down over the silky material. The gesture had seemed a little too familiar, coming from a stranger. She tilted her head slightly, trying to think of a safe way to explain the division of the student body. “Well,” she began, “there are two classifications for students here at Vardel. Those wearing maroon and gold ties attend the standard courses. Blue and silver indicates a student that follows a more… diverse curriculum. It’s a program the academy sponsors for gifted students.”

  “They must have a different definition of ‘gifted’ when it comes to boys,” Rome muttered. She tried not to smile at that, but he could see the amusement in her eyes. “By the way, I’m sorry about grabbing you like that before. I just reacted.”

  “Are you saying you’re sorry for saving me?”

  “What? No. What I meant was—” Rome sighed when he saw her crack a smile. “Are you messing with me?”

  She nodded.

  “You know, you’re acting pretty well composed for a girl who was just crying her eyes out. Do you want to talk about it?”

  She sat down at one of the long wooden tables, resting her head in her hand. “Not really. I can’t believe I made such a spectacle of myself.” She was raised to behave better than that, to keep her emotions in check. Her father would be furious.

  “I don’t even think anyone noticed,” Rome said. It was a nice lie, but an obvious one; practically everyone was staring. What he couldn’t figure out was if they were gawking at him, her, or some combination thereof. “It doesn’t really matter what they think, though. They don’t know you, and they don’t have the right to judge you. But don’t tell them that,” he smiled. “People don’t tend to like being called out on their shit.”

  Aria looked up at him as he leaned against the table and crossed his arms. Even through the stern look on his face, she saw nothing but kindness. Her eyes drifted over his short cropped hair, admiring the golden-brown color and the way it flipped up in the front.

  “You don’t have to be so nice,” she whispered.

  Rome frowned at her.

  “A little compassion can go a long way. My mother taught me that. She used to say that when you care about a complete stranger the way you care about family, that’s when you’ll make a friend.”

  “It must be nice, knowing all the right things to say.”

  “Hardly,” he replied. “If anything, I say all the wrong things at the wrong times. It’s an acquired skill.” Rome smirked at her soft laughter. “I think sometimes just having someone there to reassure us when we need it can make all the difference. It might not even matter who it is, or what they say. It’s knowing that someone cares – that’s what’s important.”

  She looked like she was going to start crying again as Rome slipped down into the chair beside hers. “Crap, what did I say? I swear I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  “You didn’t.”

  Thank God, he thought.

  He wasn’t sure he knew how to deal with anymore tears.

  “Did you still want me to show you around?”

  “Uh, I think I should just hurry up and get to the Dean’s office. But if this scholarship letter I got was for real, then maybe I’ll see you around?”

  “I’d like that,” she smiled. “Oh, and Rome?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Admissions doesn’t really make mistakes. If you’re here, it’s because you’re meant to be.”

  ***

  Kaleb sat uncomfortably in one of the small, stiff chairs in the Dean’s office, arms crossed over his chest and feet propped up on the edge of the desk. He’d been herded into the large room and instructed to wait, which in and of itself was a bit insulting. To occupy himself, he’d been listening in to the hushed conversations taking place on the other side of the door. The staff was already gossiping wildly over his presence, and with every murmured word he found himself gripping tighter and tighter at the bend of his elbows.

  He was not sulking, he told himself. He wasn’t.

  Kaleb was many things, but welcomed, accepted, those were things he had never been. They were things he could never hope to be, thanks to his unique heritage. Kaleb was a vampire. He was a witch. He was the bastard son of a king, and sole heir to the throne. Being a half-breed came with more than its fair share of disadvantages. It meant he’d never really had a place to belong. With blood like that coursing through his veins, it was a wonder he was even still alive.

  He had every right to be upset. He’d been uprooted from his home and left with the very people he’d been taught to hate. To Kaleb, humans were cattle and slaves, not peers. A jolt of rage rushed through him and he kicked the side of the solid wood desk in retaliation, watching as it screeched back a few feet. He couldn’t believe his father really expected him to go to this stupid school with these stupid, fragile humans; and worse yet, witches. Kaleb sighed in frustration, slouching down in his seat. It wasn’t until then that he realized he had an audience. Great, he thought. He’d just thrown a hissy-fit in front of someone. He rolled his head lazily to the side, glancing at the nervous stranger out of the corner of his eye.

  Rome tensed as he took in Kaleb’s appearance, realizing belatedly that he was not, in fact, a girl. His featur
es seemed to thread finely between sharp and delicate, rendering him difficult not to notice. Dim sunlight glinted over his olive colored skin, painting shadows on his face. They made him look haunted; and yet Rome suspected that was the work of something far less superficial at play. Icy blue eyes narrowed back at him through tresses of chocolate-brown hair. It framed his face and cascaded over his shoulders in long, flowing strands, nearly pooling in his lap.

  He had simply never seen anything like him.

  Kaleb glowered at the way Rome was staring. It was seriously pissing him off. “Got a problem?” he snapped. “Keep looking at me like that and I’ll give you something to fucking stare at.”

  Rome quirked an eyebrow involuntarily; he’d been startled by the sound of his voice. It was deep, and rich, and entirely not what he’d been expecting. “I was wondering how you could have hair like that and not get your ass kicked,” he said.

  Kaleb rose gracefully from his seat, shocking him again with his full height. “Fear can be a compelling emotion,” he answered. “And stupidity can make for an entertaining afternoon. So are you going to keep running your mouth about my appearance, or are you going to be smart and shut the hell up?” His jaw closed with a clack, lips pulled back in what was nearly a snarl, leaving his pearly teeth bared.

  Rome slipped his bag slowly off of his shoulder, dropping it near his feet. Every hair on the back of his neck was standing on end, and the tightness in his stomach was screaming at him to be ready.

  Ready for what, though? he wondered.

  His eyes flicked over Kaleb’s lean frame. He didn’t look like he’d put up much of a fight. But that look in his eye, the confidence in his stance, the way he shifted as though predicting his movements—Rome knew a predator when he saw one. He knew what real danger looked like. It looked like that wicked little smile, the sharp edge of teeth peeking out from beneath lips. It sounded like the quiet cracking of knuckles and the unnatural stillness that had settled in the air.

  Kaleb took one step towards him, and Rome growled. An avid fascination flittered across his features, and he continued his advance. He halted abruptly, biting the tip of his tongue and tilting his head at him in bemusement. It felt like he’d walked through a wall of heat, the air around him thick and heavy. It was sending chills up and down his spine.

  “Damn,” Kaleb smiled breathlessly.

  “Didn’t you just say something about stupidity? Because myself personally, I’d like a less eventful first day.” There was an absence in Kaleb’s gaze that told him he hadn’t heard a word he’d said. And that, itself, was more unsettling than anything. “Earth to Cher,” he said, snapping his fingers. “Stop looking at me with those serial killer eyes.”

  Kaleb felt like a moth to flame as he closed the distance between them. He grabbed for him blindly, unable to fight the temptation to reach out and touch him. His hands closed around Rome’s arms, dragging him close as he struggled to pull away. He nuzzled his face into his neck, breathing in his scent.

  “You smell like rain,” he whispered. “Like a dirty fight played out under stormy skies. Like blood, and sex, and feral, wild perfection. I just need—” He swallowed harshly around the word, parting trembling lips as deadly teeth shot down from his gums. He couldn’t hold back any longer. He slid his fangs sharply into the stranger’s neck, drawing hot, sticky blood into his mouth.

  Chapter 2

  It hadn’t hurt as much as Rome thought it might. Soft sucking sounds filled the air, and he tensed under the erotic touch of Kaleb’s tongue. He’d latched onto his neck and sent a jolt of pleasure straight to his groin. Rome almost thought he might have enjoyed it, if he could only ignore the fact that it was a guy eliciting these feelings of arousal.

  “Get the fuck off of me!” he yelled, shaking as he tried to find the strength to push him away. He gave him one hard shove, sending him stumbling back onto the sofa. Rome raised a hand to his neck when he felt the blood running down to his collarbone.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?”

  “Do that again,” Kaleb laughed, lips glistening red. Not many people had the strength to overpower him like that. His fingers curled around the edge of the cushion, eliciting a soft groan from the leather. He jumped to his feet a second later, slamming Rome back against one of the bookshelves. A few hardcover tomes went tumbling down around them in the struggle.

  “I didn’t mean to be so rough,” Kaleb whispered seductively. He bent to lick slowly up the side of Rome’s neck, tasting him with the tip of his tongue. Rome was frozen to the spot.

  The door to the office swung open, and neither of them noticed.

  “Mr. Leonté!” the Dean exclaimed. His outburst had barely warranted acknowledgement. “None of that now,” he frowned, shaking his finger at him. He closed the door quietly behind him before raising his hands and twisting his wrists, rotating the two chairs in front of his desk to face the room. With the simple sweep of his palm he pushed Kaleb away from Rome, and Rome away from the shelf. The two stared back at him with looks of consternation and fear. The Dean was unfazed. He smiled merrily, tapping his index fingers briskly in the air and sending them plunking down into the seats.

  Rome could feel his heart pounding as the Dean walked casually around the side of his desk. The chairs were turning slowly to follow his progress. He just couldn’t believe he’d been attacked by a guy with crazy teeth and a bad attitude and then shoved into a seat by some mystical force.

  In his defense, it was a bit to take in.

  Dean Oakland inclined his head curiously, looking down at his crooked desk. “What happened here? Getting to know one another?”

  “How nice of you to finally grace us with your presence,” Kaleb said, wiping his mouth off on the back of his hand. His eyes locked on the wounds he’d left on Rome’s neck – the wounds still leaking vibrant red blood. “You got a little something… right there.” He reached out, dragging a fingertip over the wet skin as a smile twisted his lips.

  Rome tensed, jerking away from. “Don’t touch me,” he said tightly.

  The Dean glanced up from readjusting his desk in time to see Kaleb sucking a blood-stained finger into his mouth. It wasn’t until then that he noticed the bite marks on Rome’s neck. Apparently that had been more than a little scuffle between students.

  Rome narrowed his eyes, watching the Dean clench his hand into a fist. Somehow he knew he wasn’t going to like whatever was coming next. He inhaled sharply when he felt his blood creeping up the length of his neck and squirming its way back into his veins. It was hands down one of the most disturbing things he’d ever felt.

  “Perhaps I should explain,” the Dean began.

  “Ya think?”

  “Vardel Academy has made it its mission to educate young witches like yourselves since its inception nearly a century ago. We have one of the finest programs of any institution in the country. You’re both very lucky to be carrying out your education here.”

  “Whoa, back up,” Rome said, catching on the word ‘witches’. “I think someone slipped a little crack into your coffee this morning.”

  Kaleb snickered.

  “How else would you explain what you’ve seen,” the Dean smiled, “other than to call it magic?” Rome didn’t have an answer for that. “I understand you’ve been living unaware of your origins, but you come from a very prominent magical line. And of course, after discovering that you were, in fact, gifted, the academy was more than eager to admit you as a student.”

  Somehow, Rome doubted that last part the most.

  “Well now I know you’re on something, because you just used the word prominent to describe my family. I don’t know who told you what, but you’ve clearly got the wrong guy.”

  “The Collective makes their list, I just send out the acceptance letters,” Oakland explained.

  “The Collective?” Rome mumbled.

  The Dean smiled wordlessly in response.

  “And what, they just magically know?”

 
“They have their ways.”

  “…Well that’s creepy.”

  “As I was saying, Vardel offers both standard classes, and specialized classes which are reserved solely for students enrolled in the gifted program. As you can imagine, these classes are centered on the study and utilization of magic. Standard students are unaware of the nature of these specialized courses, and it is to remain that way,” he stressed, sliding two thick directories across the surface of his desk. “Silvia, will you please send Shawn into my office?” he requested, holding down the page button on his phone.

  “Oh, and before I forget, there will be no biting other students while you’re here. That behavior is completely unacceptable. The school will provide some variety of sustenance for you, but feeding off of your classmates is strictly prohibited. Are we understood?”

  Kaleb exhaled quietly, tipping his head up in a small, singular nod.

  “Good. Now Shawn here has graciously volunteered to show you to your rooms. Please direct any further questions you have to him.”

  Shawn stepped forward as the Dean took a seat at his desk. Rome and Kaleb stood simultaneously and he offered a hand out between the two of them. “Nice to meet you,” he smiled. Neither of them moved to take his hand, and he pulled back awkwardly. “So which one of you is Rome, and which is Kaleb?”

  Kaleb sighed.

  “I’m Rome,” Rome said reluctantly. Honestly he was surprised he didn’t know already. But that’s how it was. Either people knew him by reputation, or they didn’t know him at all. Rome wasn’t sure which he despised more.

  “You must be Kaleb, then. I understand you’re half-vampire?”

  “Fuck off,” Kaleb muttered.

  “…Wait,” Rome said, holding his arm out to block Kaleb from leaving. “You knew that one of us was a vampire, and you still had to ask? Seriously, have you seen this guy? Which one of us looks like the supernatural undead to you? I know most people in this town probably think I have fangs, but contrary to popular belief, I’m not a monster.” Kaleb shoved past, slipping out of the office and into the teacher’s lounge.