Covet (29 page)

“Anne, it’s really not like that,” I said, feeling like I was suddenly facing a wild animal that needed soothing with an extra calm voice. “I would never, ever go after your ex. Plus he’s not my type.”

“Really? Because your type isn’t the tall, blond earnest-eyed football player?” Carrie said.

I could have almost laughed if it weren’t so insulting. “Ron’s nothing at all like…you know who.”

Carrie glared at me, while Anne pretended to be very interested in her soda.

I touched Anne’s shoulder. “Come on, Anne. You know me. You know I would never go after anyone you cared about. And I know you still care about Ron. Even if you didn’t, I still wouldn’t date him.” After my last two dating attempts, I definitely would not be trying it again. Two total disasters were enough for one lifetime.

“I know that,” Anne mumbled, but it didn’t sound like she believed it. She looked up at me, sighed and said more firmly, “I do know that. I know you’d never date Ron.”

“Still, he could have asked someone else for help,” Carrie muttered.

“Does he have any friends?” I asked, curious now.

Shrugs and a head shake were the general consensus.

I turned to Anne again. “Is there a reason that I shouldn’t at least be nice and help him pass English lit?”

“You mean besides the fact that he’s your best friend’s ex?” Carrie said.

“Anne dumped
him
, not the other way around,” Michelle argued.

Silence from Anne.

“Anne, you decide,” I said. “Say the word, and I’ll find a different lab partner and tell Ron to wing it on his own in English lit.”

If it made her that uncomfortable, maybe I shouldn’t try to help patch up their issues after all.

“You don’t have to tell me what happened between you two,” I added. “But at least tell me this…should I go kick his butt for you? Because if so, I’ll do it. I’ll go right now and give him a good ole smack-down in the library. Just say the word, and I’ll bury him in the heaviest hardbacks I can find.”

Michelle snickered. Even Carrie’s lips twitched at that.

Anne gave a reluctant smile. “No, don’t kick his butt. You’d only end up snapping those puny arms of yours like pretzels. You’re right. I did break up with him, not the other way around. And…I guess it’s not really his fault, either. I mean, it wasn’t something he actually did. It was just something I had to do.”

A glimpse of black kitty cats running through Anne’s mind this time. What was with the black cats already?

“So it’s okay if I meet with him for tutoring during lunch every other day?”

She rolled her eyes and sighed loudly. “Well,
I’m
certainly not around to help him anymore. And the boy is an idiot at English stuff. If you don’t help him, he’ll probably wind up flunking and missing out on playing football. And heaven help
that
from ever happening.”

Carrie snorted.

“So by all means, help the big lug with his English, I guess.” Anne grabbed her soda, trying to act like the whole conversation was no big deal now.

But I saw through her act. The flares of emotion coming from her told the real story…she was still crazy about Ron and desperately wishing she were the one meeting with him at lunch instead of me.

Which meant there was still hope for the two of them.

Smiling, I leaned sideways to bump shoulders with her. “Deep down, you are such a softie.”

She choked on her soda. “Don’t ever say that again!” She glanced around us, making a show out of being horrified. “I’ve got a
rep
to maintain here!”

* * *

The next day during chem lab, I said, “I told Anne about our tutoring exchange.”

Ron’s hand froze in the act of reaching for a glass dropper. “What’d she say?”

“She wasn’t thrilled about it, but she said it was okay.”

“She wasn’t happy about it?”

“I think her exact words were something along the lines of ‘well, I’m not going to help him, and he is an idiot in English class, so somebody better help him pass.’”

He smiled at the beaker as its green contents began to bubble.

I wrote down the chemical reaction as the teacher had instructed earlier. “Ron, be honest. You’re not having me help you with your homework just to make Anne jealous, are you?”

He scowled. “What? No way! It was your idea in the first place. And besides, why would I need to try to make her jealous? She already knows how I feel about her.” He measured two drops of water then added them to the beaker, and the contents turned blue. “She knows if she changes her mind, all she has to do is tell me.”

“And you’d take her back? Just like that? Even after she dumped you?”

He shrugged. “Pride just gets in the way in life. The less pride you have, the easier it is to have what you want.”

“Huh. Ever told Anne that?”

He frowned at his lab directions. “I’m hoping she’ll figure it out someday.”

“You do remember how hardheaded she is, right?”

He grinned. “It’s one of the things I miss the most about her.” After adding two more drops of water to the beaker, he glanced at me and said, “You know, I could ask you the same question. Are
you
working with me to make a certain guy jealous?”

It was my turn to scowl. “No. Why would I? I broke up with him.”

“I heard he and a certain Charmer have turned into a real couple lately.”

I swallowed hard and focused on taking notes in my notebook. “Good for him. He deserves to be happy.”

He was safe. It was all that mattered.

“With someone else?”

“If she makes him happy.”

“That’s big of you. Not sure I could say the same.” He leaned back on his stool, making the metal legs squeak.

I forced one corner of my lips up into a half smile. “Trust me, it’s a daily effort.”

* * *

Over the next few weeks, my life slipped into a routine that, while not exactly always happy, was at least comfortable. Mostly. Except for English class, I found ways to stay focused on other things…helping the Charmers at practices, pep rallies and games…helping my friends with their homework and listening to the latest gossip from Michelle at lunch every other day…working and joking around with Ron in chemistry class and our lunchtime tutoring sessions…practicing tai chi with Dad and Gowin when he was visiting in the evenings before doing my homework and then falling into bed. And of course finding ways to sneak out to Nanna’s for magic practice every spare moment I could. The only problem was I couldn’t seem to tap into my Clann side in the first two or three days after feeding. My current theory was that feeding empowered the vamp side too much to allow my descendant abilities to work. Either that, or filling my body with human blood made me temporarily too human and not witchy enough.

English class and the weekends after feeding were the bad times when I couldn’t pretend everything was okay.

Every Friday night after the football games, no matter how late I was in coming home, both Dad and Gowin were always waiting in the kitchen with a vial of donated blood for me. Not drinking it wasn’t an option. I’d already tried every excuse I could think of to get out of it without success.

“Eventually you’ll come to enjoy the blood memories,” Gowin had promised one time when he found me sitting on my bedroom floor drenched in sweat and holding my head in my hands as the images whirled past inside my mind.

“How could anyone possibly enjoy this?” I’d managed to gasp.

“Think of it like a mini vacation from your life. You get to be someone else for a while.”

“But nothing I’m seeing makes any sense! I don’t know who these people are, who I’m supposed to be in the memories.”

“So think of it like one of those artsy-fartsy films instead, where you’re not supposed to understand. Does your own life always make sense? Does the world around us make sense? Of course not. And it’s not supposed to. Real life is chaos, sweetheart, not order. It’s only humans and the lingering humanity within vampires that drives any of us to try and make sense out of it.”

But I hated the chaos. I hated being so totally out of control over my own mind. And I definitely resented anything that prevented me from regaining my magical birthright.

English wasn’t much better. In every other class, I’d managed to master the ESP enough to turn down the volume of thoughts. But that only allowed me to better tune in to Tristan. And now I was starting to pick up the occasional thought from his mind.

Hearing Tristan’s thoughts was both a pleasure and a torment. In those moments when I could hear him speaking within my mind without censorship, I felt closer to him than I ever had before.

But that only made it harder to control my feelings for him.

Especially now that everyone was getting ready for the upcoming annual Charmers masq ball, our biggest fund-raiser of the year. During practice, it took constant effort to block out Bethany’s excited mental chatter as she pondered what matching costumes she and Tristan should wear to the dance. Apparently he’d agreed to wear whatever she picked out.

Last year, he had been the one to insist that we secretly dress as a couple, he as a knight and me as an angel, like Leonard DiCaprio and Claire Danes in the movie
Romeo + Juliet
. And then Bethany had shown up that night dressed as Guinevere, making everyone think Tristan was actually dressed as her Lancelot.

Even then, Bethany had managed to look like the perfect girl for him.

This year, she could openly choose any matching set of his-and-hers costumes that she wanted. She would be hanging on his arm all night long, just like she’d done during the homecoming dance in September.

And of course kissing him as much as she wanted to without any danger of killing him.

At the masq ball, they would be able to flaunt just how perfect a couple they were. And, as usual, I would be relegated to cooking and serving food and drinks in the concession stand where half our money was made.

While she danced the night away in Tristan’s arms, I would be sweating it out over a big Crockpot full of cheese sauce and a plastic jar of pickles.

I was so ready for Halloween to be over. Too bad it was still weeks away.

CHAPTER 20

TRISTAN

I had a real love/hate thing going on with English lit this year. Sometimes I was grateful just for the chance to sit beside Savannah and sneak glances at her when she was busy reading or writing something.

But she wasn’t exactly making it easy for me to forget about her when she showed up wearing skirts and heels that showed off her awesome long legs.

Was she trying to torture me now? I’d never thought of her as the sadistic type. Maybe it was a sign of her vampire side taking over.

She uncrossed her feet and tucked them under her desk, making little stones on her heels wink and shine.

Geez. I’d never even paid attention to girls’ shoes before. Sav was turning me into some kind of a shoe freak.

Savannah’s feet twitched.

A coincidence that I’d just been thinking about them. Right?

I looked at her directly, checking to see if she was looking my way. She turned the opposite direction, bending down to search her Charmers bag for something. An excuse to avoid eye contact? Probably.

Maybe I should try to talk to her after class, see how she reacted.

She jumped then froze in her seat, her shoulders hunching up. Almost as if she’d heard me.

No, she couldn’t have. Everyone knew vampires and witches couldn’t read each others’ minds. It was a basic survival mechanism that both our species had evolved over the centuries to protect ourselves from each other.

So if I grabbed my book and dropped it on the floor…

I started to pick up my textbook from my desktop, and her entire body flinched as if I’d already dropped the book.

Slowly she sat back up in her seat and appeared to be copying notes from the classroom board again.

Very carefully, I thought,
Savannah. Can you hear me?

Her writing hand jerked, her pen making a slash of blue across her paper.

I waited for her to look at me. Instead, she went back to her note taking, her mouth tightening. It was the first sign of emotion I’d seen on her face in months, since our argument at Charmers practice last year. I’d begun to wonder if her face had become permanently frozen in that Ice Queen mask I was really beginning to hate. She used to be so easy to read, every emotion plain as daylight both on her face and in the way her eyes changed colors to match her moods.

Lately, all those irises had displayed was that same icy silver-gray.

On purpose now, I remembered the last time I’d held her in the council’s jet…the way she’d sat in my lap, her head on my shoulder, her arms around me. Her fingertips slowly rubbing tiny circles on my shirt. The lavender scent of her hair beneath my chin. The way it had felt to kiss her…

She sighed. But that could have been another coincidence.

So I tried another tactic that would hopefully get a more obvious reaction from her. I pictured myself kissing Bethany under the bleachers at the practice field. We’d never actually done this. I’d been careful not to lead Bethany on and only kissed her cheek goodbye sometimes. We probably hung out together too much as it was, but Bethany was a good friend.

But I didn’t think about the facts now. I imagined holding Bethany in my arms, stroking her back, my hands tangling in her hair…

Savannah’s pen snapped in half, spilling ink all over her writing hand and notes. Jaw clenched, she got up to throw both in the trash by the classroom door then asked permission from the teacher to wash up in the restroom.

Oh yeah, Savannah could definitely hear my thoughts.

The only question was whether I could hear hers, too, if I tried.

I kicked back in my seat and pretended to be focused on taking notes along with everyone else. When Savannah returned, I didn’t look up. I waited until she was back in her seat and writing again. Then I willed myself to hear her mind, which was all it usually took unless the target was a descendant trained to block their thoughts from others.