Crave (20 page)

“Do you want to kiss me right now?”

I sucked in a long breath through my nose. If that was an invitation… Except Savannah didn't look like a girl who wanted to be kissed. She must be trying to build an argument. “What's your point?”

“That's what happens when I screw up and make direct eye contact with a guy. They want to kiss me, grab me, trap me. Own me.”

I opened my mouth to tell her that was nuts, then looked
down at my hands where they gripped her arms, probably hard enough to bruise.

Muttering a curse under my breath, I let her go. “I won't become another of your stalkers. I've felt this way about you for a long time now. I just didn't get it until today. But it's not because of your eyes.”

Tears glittered in those eyes, which were begging me now. “Prove it.”

She wanted me to leave her alone. Now, when I finally understood the connection between us. A connection I'd fought for years.

“For how long?”

“Until I know for sure you're not obsessed, that you're acting of your own free will.”

“And then?” I stepped closer, not touching her, and dipped my head.

Her eyes widened, her lips parting in surprise. Her short, quick breaths puffed against my lips. “That won't happen. When you come to your senses, you won't still feel like this.”

“And when I do still—”

“
If
you do,” she corrected in a whisper.

“Then?”

“Then…maybe…”

Maybe. She didn't want to commit to future possibilities between us. But I could see the longing in her eyes. She wanted to believe this was real. All she needed was proof.

“Fine.” I pushed the word out between gritted teeth. I might die trying, but I would stay away from her. For a while. But only long enough for her to see that I wasn't like the others. “But in the meantime, you have to do something for me.”

“What?”

“Keep your backpack and dance-team bag with you at all times.” Her raised eyebrows demanded a reason. I thought
fast. “I don't want Stanwick to try to hurt you by putting something bad in them or stealing them. And if you've absolutely got to date someone else, at least try to pick a better guy.”

Her laugh sounded empty. “Don't worry, I won't be picking any new boyfriends for a long time. If ever.”

Even better,
I thought with a smile. I followed her to the cafeteria door.

She jerked to a halt. “Are you following me?”

Because that was exactly what I'd been doing, I took a moment to reply. “No. Just going inside for a cold soda to put on my jaw.” Actually, now that I'd thought of it, that sounded like a great idea.

With a face full of glaring doubt, Savannah continued into the cafeteria.

I let her go, stopping to duck behind my still-seated sister for cover as well as to steal Emily's half-full soda.

“Ah,” I sighed as the cold can both hurt and began to numb my aching jaw.

“What
happened?
” Emily demanded when she saw my face.

“Got a mirror?”

She took a makeup compact from her purse and pretended to check her lipstick so I could sneak a peek at my reflection over her shoulder.

“Huh. It actually looks like it feels.” I stuck the can back on it, gritting my teeth against the pain.

She snapped the compact shut. “Well? Are you going to 'fess up?”

“The official story is…football. Really rough practice today.”

“Except you don't have football until
after
school and yet somehow got this way at lunch, genius.”

Hmm, good point. “Okay. Suggestions?”

“Only if you promise to fill me in on the truth later.”

“Deal.”

“Okay.” She sighed. “It was football, all right. But the amateur kind with a bunch of freshmen, you don't know who, outside during lunch. You were running for the ball and hit a tree face-first instead.”

Of course her story would have me looking like a complete idiot. But it would do. Grinning, I gave her shoulders a quick squeeze. “Genius. And our parents worry how
I'll
turn out.”

“Get to class, heathen. And I want a full report after dinner tonight.”

“Uh-huh, sure thing.” I returned her soda then ducked out the nearest exit and took the shortest route possible to my third-period class. Along the way, I braced myself for the torturous wait ahead.

Sometimes, not knowing really was better. Because now that I knew exactly what Savannah Colbert meant to me, I suddenly had no clue how I would hide it. And not just from the Clann, but from her, too, for as long as it took for her to see that I wasn't one of her stalkers.

Knowing how hardheaded she was…this might take a while.

Tristan, four weeks later…

I was obeying her wishes. The wait really might kill me, though.

I'd played like crap today, and my body ached from the punishing tackles I'd endured because of my lack of focus. Because of her—the only reason that could make this kind of pain worth it. I didn't usually hurt this much even after a game against our toughest rivals. Thankfully the wait would be over soon. Her stalkers hadn't made it two hours after making eye contact with her. Four weeks of ignoring her was more than enough time to prove I wasn't one of Savannah's stalkers.

No more secrets soon. No more hiding how I felt about her. No more following stupid, unexplained rules from the Clann.

I was just stepping out of the locker-room shower when I felt that unmistakable ache tugging at my gut and chest. But what was Savannah doing here at the field house? Usually one
of the other Charmers managers came to the field house for ice for the injured dancers.

“Female in the house,” I roared out the warning a little louder than usual. After all, this time it was Savannah coming in. Good thing you could only see into the locker room if you looked through the hall doorway a few yards past the ice machine. As long as we guys either covered up or stayed out of sight from the door, she wouldn't get flashed while she filled ice bags.

I sat on a bench out of view from the hallway, dried off with a few quick towel swipes, then pulled on my boxer briefs.

“Well, hellooo, baby,” Dylan called out.

I looked up. Dylan was standing nude and minus a towel in front of the door.

“Dylan!” I barked, half rising from the bench as quick anger rushed through me.

Laughing, Dylan jerked his blond bangs out of his eyes then sauntered over to the bench.

“Man, the ladies don't want to see your two puny inches,” someone joked from the other side of the lockers.

“You're a jackass,” I muttered to Dylan. Why did I still call him my best friend? Right now, I was seriously considering hitting him upside the head.

Hmm. I couldn't hit him, but I
could…

The twisted wet towel hit Dylan's bare butt with a loud crack, followed by his even louder howl.

Yeah, that would do for now.

Savannah

I ignored Dylan's leer as I entered the tiny portable building for yet another fun-filled history class. Talk about a grade A jerk. Dylan probably thought he was a real stud, flashing me this morning. Usually Head Manager Amber sent
Vicki or Keisha out to the field house for bags of ice at the end of Charmers practice. But this weekend, Mrs. Daniels had dropped a bomb on us. Head Manager Amber was moving away; her mother had gotten a new job in Dallas. Vicki and Keisha were filling in as alternate dancers for two Charmers who had gotten hurt last week in a stunt that had gone wrong. Since I was still reluctantly keeping my promise to the vampire council about not dancing anymore, that left me as the new head manager who had to lead around two silly freshmen office aides temporarily on loan from the front office.

I hadn't trusted the new managers not to get lost or distracted at the field house, so they had been given the job of stowing the music system while I fetched ice bags and wrapped injuries at the end of the morning practices. After this morning, though, I might have to change that job assignment around.

Not because of Dylan. Dylan's immature display this morning had made me blush, but he was just an annoying moron, like most of the Clann kids who tried to bully me. I could ignore him.

The football player and descendant whom I couldn't manage to ignore, despite my every effort to, was Tristan. Four weeks had only made me see more clearly how dangerously strong my feelings were for him. Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately, those same four weeks had totally killed his sudden feelings for me. If he'd ever really felt anything in the first place.

Like now. Here I was, unable to stop thinking about the guy stretched out in his desk just inches away from me. And he obviously couldn't care less in return. Not an eye flicker my way. No reaction if I moved or dropped a pen. Nothing. Four weeks ago, it was all hearts and roses and promises of undying love outside the cafeteria after beating up my
ex-boyfriend. Now I didn't exist at all. Exactly as I should have expected all along from him, given our history together.

Part of me—the logical part—said I was extremely lucky that my gaze daze had worn off both him and Greg right after their fight. And yet my heart still stupidly ached over the fact that they were both avoiding me now. Tristan was a player; of course he would blow hot and cold, and I was just an idiot for hoping otherwise. But Greg had never seemed the type of guy to act like that. His other ex-girlfriends were still friends with him. Why couldn't we stay friends, too?

I found myself missing Greg at the weirdest times now. Like last Saturday on my sixteenth birthday when I should have been nothing but happy, I ended up spending most of the slumber party with my friends wondering whether Greg might remember my birthday and call or text or something. If we had still been together, he probably would have taken me out somewhere to celebrate.

And then last Wednesday when I passed my driver's exam and got my license, one of the Charmers teased me about how the blue backdrop in my photo made my hair look the exact same color as carrots. I couldn't tell my friends about that; they would have seen it as proof that all Charmers were evil, when in fact the girl had only been joking around with me. But I could have told Greg. If we were still friends. If he wasn't avoiding me like the plague.

Maybe it was better that both boys were ignoring me now. That way, there was no danger of Greg getting accidentally gaze dazed again. And I wouldn't have to argue with Tristan about why we shouldn't break the rules and date each other.

I just wished I could forget as easily as they did. Then I wouldn't be constantly tormented with the memories.

Memories of dancing with Greg at the homecoming dance…

Tristan whispering my name, looking down at me as we stood so close together…

Greg hissing my name over and over as his mouth pressed bruising kisses along my cheeks and neck…

The look in Tristan's eyes as he'd thrown Greg to the ground…

Sighing, I rested my forehead in my hand, using my forearm to block my peripheral view of Tristan. Lord, how I hated this class. Everywhere else, I could stay busy, find ways to think about something else. But in here, with Tristan just inches away, it was impossible to think about anything but the past.

A past I wanted to forget. Needed to forget, if I ever hoped to like myself again.

Because in that moment when I'd found myself pressed against Tristan outside the cafeteria, my fingertips touching the blood on his lip, when I'd realized I was staring right into his eyes…

I'd
wanted
my gaze to affect him.

Worse yet, while part of me was happy to see him clear eyed now and able to focus on Mr. Smythe's lecture, a darker part of me wished he hadn't recovered at all.

I should be locked up. I was a menace to the male half of society. And a scary freak to the other half.

Since no one had locked me up yet, the next best thing I could do was aim for nunhood. Which wasn't a hardship, since the only guy I wanted was a notorious player who was off-limits anyway. Mom might have been exaggerating when she said my dating someone in the Clann could start a war between them and the vampires. But just in case she wasn't, I planned to avoid Tristan as much as possible from now on.

If only I could stop myself from craving him every waking minute of the day!

One of my many mistakes with him was ever allowing him to see that I still cared about him. But I wouldn't be repeating that mistake again. I would just have to get better at hiding my emotions around him.

Starting now.

With a sigh, I rested my chin in my hand and tried to ignore Tristan's long, muscled body stretched out in the desk beside me. And his soft, curly hair as he bent over to gather up his stuff from under his desk…

“What, the view this morning wasn't enough for you, princess?” Dylan's too-close drawl yanked me from my thoughts.

He was standing in front of me, planting his crotch in my direct line of sight. I'd been too lost in thought to notice the bell had rung and everyone was getting up to leave. Great.

Don't react,
I told myself.
That's what he wants, to see you look embarrassed.

Freezing my facial muscles into the coldest expression I could manage, I looked up at his nose. “I'm sorry, was there something to actually see?”

Tristan snickered at my right, threatening my self-control.

Dylan's sneer tightened in anger. His eyes squinted. “You know, I was wrong. You're not just a princess. You're an ice princess. Must be why Greg Stanwick dumped you. You were too frigid for his taste.”

If he only knew the truth. That thought curved my lips into a smile. “Ice Princess. Hmm, I kind of like that one.” It was better than some other possible names. Like
monster.

Scowling, Dylan shook his head and walked away, muttering something that sounded like “freak.”

Like I hadn't heard that one before. I didn't even blink.

The Brat Twins giggled at Dylan's remark before they got up from their desks behind Tristan.

Two more reasons to play the Ice Princess in here.

I smiled to myself as I gathered my things and joined the traffic exiting the classroom. Dylan didn't realize it, but he'd just given me the perfect strategy for the rest of the year. I could still be myself everywhere else. But in history, I would play the Ice Princess—cold, emotionless, untouchable. Dylan would get no reactions from me to feed his sadistic-bully side. The Brat Twins would be deprived of their entertainment.

And Tristan wouldn't see how I really felt about him.

Tristan

My new plan was backfiring, and I had Dylan to thank for it.

I'd thought that playing things extra cool around Savannah for a month would make her realize I wasn't going to stalk her, so she could relax around me. And she'd almost seemed to at the beginning of this week. But then that idiot Dylan just had to mess with her and call her an ice princess. Ever since, she'd seemed to take the jerk's teasing to heart. Her face was like a mask, her body moving so little during class that I sometimes wondered if she were miming a statue. She blinked, breathed, took notes and read. But there was zero visibility into her real personality.

If possible, she'd become even more untouchable.

Having four fellow descendants in class with us didn't help, either. With Dylan one row to my left and back, the Brat Twins directly behind me, and Mr. Smythe running the class, my every move was under watch in history. I might as well have not even had a class with Savannah this year, for all the opportunity I'd had to talk with her. I couldn't even look at her for two seconds without the Clann knowing.

By Friday, all the hope I'd started the week with was morphing straight into frustration. I'd have to come up with a new plan.

Mr. Smythe was late getting to history class today for some reason. The bell had rung, but with no teacher in sight, everyone was talking. A few people stood around, adding to the low-key party atmosphere. Dylan was one of the few walking around. His movements were casual as he flirted with some of the girls two rows over. But something about the look in his eyes set me on edge.

“Hey, Tristan.” Vanessa laid a hand on my shoulder.

I turned in my desk to look at her. “Yeah?”

“I was wondering, do you have a date for the Fall Ball yet?”

As if I'd ever be stupid enough to date
her
again. “Not interested, Vanessa.”

Something slammed to the floor hard enough to shake the entire building. All conversation stopped.

I jerked my head to the right in time to catch Dylan's smirk.

“Oops.” He laughed and strolled away from Savannah's books and papers, which now covered a three-foot span of floor in front of her feet.

What the…

“Did you want to help me pick up all the stuff you just knocked off my desk?” Savannah muttered. In the dead silence of the room, her every word was as loud as if she'd shouted.

There you go, Sav, don't take any of his crap.

I gripped the edge of my desk, too aware of the giggles the Brat Twins didn't bother to hide. Evil witches; they must have been in on Dylan's plans and distracted me on purpose. They knew I'd never let Dylan bully anyone. Though I'd thought he'd outgrown this crap back in junior high. Unless he'd just been hiding it from me for the past few years.

He stood by his chair with an arrogant grin. “Who says I knocked your books off, sweetheart? They probably just fell off on their own.”

“I have eyes. I saw you, Williams,” Savannah replied in a calm voice.

His grin turned nasty as he slid into his desk sideways, stretching his legs across the aisle. “Yeah, I've been hearing some strange stories lately about those freaky eyes of yours, Colbert.”

I started to lunge out of my chair, but Savannah was faster. She seemed to glide down the aisle, reaching Dylan's desk in three long-legged strides.

Planting a hand on his desk and another on the back of his chair, she leaned over one slow inch at a time until her nose almost touched Dylan's. “Better to have freaky eyes than an entire face that looks like you were dropped on it as a baby,” she murmured.

Someone giggled on the other side of the room.

Fury filled Dylan's eyes, and I felt light prickles race over my forearms. Son of a… Dylan was going to use power on her.

I let my own energy level shoot up, knowing Dylan would feel it as even sharper prickles on his skin. My ancestors hadn't led the Clann for four generations based on their good looks. Just because I had no intention of following in my father's footsteps for Clann leadership didn't mean I didn't have the strength for it. And it was time Dylan remembered that.