Crave (34 page)

“Fireworks,” he said with a boyish grin.

I laughed even as tears stung my eyes. “Very nice idea.” Too nice. He was
way
too good a boyfriend for me.

He put an arm around me, letting me enjoy the pretend display in the sky for a few minutes. Then he turned me to face him.

“So have you figured out your New Year's resolution yet?” His voice was soft and even deeper than usual.

“Mmm, probably going to be the same as last year. Try to be a better person.” And then some.

“Impossible. You're already perfect.”

If he only knew. “And you? What's your resolution?”

“Hmm. How about to be the perfect boyfriend for you?” He whispered the words against the sensitive skin below my ear, making a shiver ripple over me.

“That's sweet.” But all the kisses in the world couldn't distract me from the inescapable truth. No matter how right we seemed together, we could never truly be perfect for each other. Not as long as the rules and the rest of the world said we were supposed to be off-limits to one another.

Not as long as everyone thought I was a danger to him.

He searched my eyes. “Are you happy, Savannah?”

Tough question. The true answer was both yes and no. The more I was with him, the more I fell in love with him. But the more I loved him, the more I hated having to keep him a secret from my family and friends.

Still, he wanted an answer, and of course he expected it to be a happy one. “Why wouldn't I be happy? I get to date the sweetest—”

“Hottest?” he suggested.

I nodded. “Hottest, funniest—”

“Smartest?” Eyebrows raised, he lifted his nose in the air, apparently trying to look like some sort of genius.

“Most arrogant guy in our school,” I finished with a laugh. Growling, he bent his head down and nipped my earlobe until I giggled.

“Who's also a good kisser?” The tip of his nose brushed a path over my cheek, his strong hands on my hips tugging me closer to him.

“The best,” I corrected in a ragged whisper before he gave me a light kiss. We had to keep our kisses short and to a minimum in our dreams. Otherwise we tended to get distracted and lose the connection between our minds. Too many of our shared dreams had been cut short until we'd figured this out.

He pressed his forehead against mine and stared into my eyes, his expression solemn now and filling up the entire view before me. “I love you.”

Something bubbled up inside me like a fountain of liquid sunlight. “Really?” I whispered, unable to stop a grin from forming.

“Yeah. Really.”

“I love you, too, Tristan.” And in that moment, they were the easiest, most natural words in the English language to say.

He tugged the rubber band out of my hair, setting my wild curls free so he could bury his hands in them. Then he kissed me, and I kissed him back, forgetting to keep it light, letting myself drown in the sensation of his lips moving over mine until the dream ended.

 

I woke up but kept my eyes closed, the memory of those three little words warming me from head to toe.

If only we could stay asleep and in our dreams together for the rest of our lives, my life would be perfect.

But gradually, maybe inevitably, the sensation of his kiss faded from my lips and an ache filled my lungs. Being with him felt so right. Until we were apart, when it all suddenly felt so wrong.

I loved him. Utterly. Completely. Totally. There wasn't a single cell inside my body that did not adore him. If he weren't in the Clann, he would be the single most perfect boyfriend imaginable.

But he was in the Clann. And worse, he was expected to become their future leader.

And I was a half-breed outcast.

And all the love in the world couldn't change those two facts.

Hot tears burned their way down my cheeks. I let them fall, too tired to bother wiping them away. No one could see me in the predawn darkness of my bedroom anyway.

What could I do to change things, to make it okay some how for Tristan and me to be together openly? Could I talk to my father, maybe get him to convince the vampire council to change their minds? Could Tristan talk to his parents and the other elders in the Clann, make them see that they were wrong about him and me?

I rolled over, hugging my knees beneath the blanket Nanna had crocheted for me.

Who was I kidding? The Clann and the vampires had been fighting each other for centuries. Their hate and fear of each other had begun long before even Nanna was born. They hadn't changed their minds for my father and my mother. Why would they change their minds just because Tristan and I had fallen in love, too?

I remembered the way Tristan had looked at me in last night's dream, all the elaborate details he'd pulled together just to give us a perfect New Year's Eve celebration. The way he'd stared right into my soul and told me that he loved me.

Everything might change if he knew the truth.

What would he think if he knew I was half vampire? There was no telling what he'd been told all his life about vampires. At the very least, he had to have been taught to fear them, to view them as the enemy waiting for a chance to drink his blood and drain him dry.

He might start to see me that way, too.

Maybe if I loved him a little less, I could take that chance and tell him the truth. But I couldn't. I loved him too much to risk it. I never wanted him to question even for a second why I was with him or how I felt about him.

I just prayed that the adult descendants in the Clann kept their promise and never told him, either.

Tristan

The new Charmers spring practice schedule was killing me.

Starting in February, for the next two and a half months, it seemed like the Charmers intended to eat, sleep and breathe preparations in the school auditorium for the team's annual Spring Show. In addition to their regular morning practices, afternoon practices had been extended from six to seven o'clock every evening, plus Saturday practices.

Savannah had put me on the stage crew with the other escorts and team dads. Unfortunately, they also took volunteers, including Dylan Williams this year. He was dating one of the Brat Twins, and no descendants were Charmers. So he must be volunteering either to annoy me or spy on me. Whatever his motives were, I was ready to kill him with my bare hands. And we were still only three weeks into the show preparations.

The jerk was always around, always watching. Every time I started to pull Savannah behind a prop or curtain for a kiss during the after-school practices, Dylan popped up with some
request for help or a question for her. At least I still had the mornings with her, though.

Right now, that was
all
we had, since the spring weather was so crappy I hadn't been able to sleep outside in order to dream connect. Even morning practices didn't give us many chances to be alone together, because she worked mostly backstage on the sound and lights while I was outside or in the gym helping build and paint sets. And every time I caught her upstairs in the mornings, either an officer or a manager was in the nearby costume closet.

We couldn't even risk dinner dates after practice anymore, because everyone started working in separate groups for the show's dance numbers, and they all left at different times.

Between the new practice schedule, the stormy weather and Dylan's spying eyes, my time with Savannah had been reduced to the ten short minutes we had alone together each morning before practice began.

I was slowly going insane.

Maybe if I'd never kissed her, held her, spent countless hours talking with her, our forced separation wouldn't be so bad. But I had, I was crazy about her, and…

And I flat-out missed her.

It was a Friday night. Everyone was gone. If not for her worries that we would be seen together, I'd have taken her out of town for a late dinner before now. I would have to find a way to change her mind about it tonight. After three weeks of practically no alone time together, she had to be going as crazy as I was.

Almost time to lock up for the evening. Finally. I checked the costume closet, turned off the dance-room lights and closed the doors. One less room for Savannah to have to shut down so we could leave quicker. I already knew where to take her to eat.

I headed down to the stage to collect the sound system, waiting as Savannah gathered up CDs and threw the stage's breakers. In the darkness broken only by her flashlight, the urge to kiss her nearly overpowered me. But I'd wait a little longer. Soon enough, I'd have her snuggled up against my side in my truck and on the way to a quiet, romantic dinner at a real table with real chairs and real food.

And maybe it would be enough to last me another week.

“Did you close up the dance room?” she asked as we reached the office.

“Yeah. Thought I'd save you some time. I think everyone's gone now anyway.”

“Thanks.” She locked the office closet. Then we stepped out of the room so she could turn off the lights.

As she locked the door, I said, “So listen, I'd really like to take you out tonight. There's this fantastic place about thirty minutes away, very quiet, cozy, good food—”

“Tristan, we can't. You know that.” She turned to face me with a sigh.

I tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “This restaurant's small, not as popular with the adults. I doubt we'll see anyone we know.”

“You and the Clann know everyone.”

“Not everyone. And I'll ask for a corner booth so no one will see us.”

“I don't know.”

She was wavering; I could see it in her eyes. “Please, Sav? I haven't seen you much for weeks.” Smiling, I grabbed her and kissed her at the end of every sentence. “I miss you. I'm dying here. You've reduced me to begging.”

“Tristan! Someone might see—”

I backed her toward the prop closet. “No, they won't. Everyone's gone for the night.”

Suddenly, I couldn't wait. We could leave in a few minutes. First…

Reaching out blindly, I found the closet doorknob and pulled the door open.

“Savannah,” I whispered against her lips as her hands stroked my neck, my shoulders, my chest. “I can't handle this, not seeing you.”

“We see each other every day,” she gasped.

“You know what I mean.”

Backing her into the pitch-black closet, I shut the door behind us then lost myself in our kisses, not caring that I was growing light-headed and my knees threatened to give out. And then they did, but Savannah sank down to her knees with me, so it didn't matter. Nothing mattered as long as she kept kissing me. We were meant to be together. How could she ever doubt this?

A series of flashes broke us apart. My eyes flew open, only to be blinded by more bright bursts of light. A low whir and click followed each strobe. What the…

“Beautiful. Just beautiful,” Dylan said in the darkness. “Honestly, I couldn't have staged the scene better myself.” His voice circled around us toward the doors.

“Dylan, cut the crap. What are you doing?” I said.

One of the doors cracked open, spilling a bar of light over him. “You know, you almost make it too easy. I hated waiting all these months, but it was worth it. These pics are going to help me get you kicked out of the Clann, and maybe your dad, too. After all…” He smiled at Savannah. “We know how they hate Clann parents who can't control their…kids. And once your dad's gone, guess who'll be taking over?”

Dylan's dad, with Dylan next in line for the role.

Cold fury filled me, chilling me as I struggled to stand. I'd kissed Savannah too long, let her weaken me too much. My
legs didn't want to lift me up. “I don't care. I never wanted to lead. And Dad doesn't have to lead the Clann to be more of a man than your entire family line combined.”

“Famous last lines from the loser.” Dylan ducked out the door and strolled away, camera and evidence in hand.

Great. Dad and Mom were going to be beyond ticked off this time. Using the wall, I staggered to my feet, Savannah helping at my side.

Then we heard Dylan's voice taunting from the top of the stairs. “I bet Savannah's family is going to love these pics. Should be some good ones for Grandma's scrapbook, don't you think?” He laughed, the sound echoing in the stairwell now.

She gasped. “Mom and Nanna…they're going to
kill
me.”

Oh, hell. I had to get that camera. At least without it, it would be Dylan's word against ours. Shoving the closet door open, I stumbled out to the hallway then the stairs on legs that didn't want to respond. Dylan was already at the bottom of the stairwell.

I ran down the stairs two at a time, using the handrails on both sides to keep from falling down them instead. Kissing Savannah had taken way too much out of me this time.

But I had to keep going. And Dylan was running now, his sneakers slapping across the foyer linoleum. I pushed my body into a jog. I couldn't let him get out of sight.

He exited through the building doors.

I followed, gathering my will and remaining energy. By the time I got out the door, he was near the end of the cement ramp.

I focused on his back, and the energy burst out of me.

He flew three feet forward and down onto the cement stomach first. He lay there, apparently with the wind knocked out of him, giving me time to close the distance.

He rolled over. “Coleman,” he gasped. “You…fight…dirty.”

I straddled his chest and punched him across the jaw. As weak as I was, surprise was the only shot I had at winning this fight. “Where's the camera?” I checked his hands and pockets, then the ground around us. There, a few feet away.

Reaching out, I used my will to jerk the camera to me. It rose up then darted through the air straight into my outstretched hand. I flipped the door to the camera's compartment open and yanked out the memory card.

Pain exploded in my mouth and chin, twisting me around, and the card went flying out of my hand and into the grass on the side of the hill somewhere. Dylan hit me again, laying me out flat on my back as he got in two more hits. I had no energy left to fight or move or even lift my arms to block the blows. I had to draw some energy. The grass was only a yard or two from my outstretched hand. But I couldn't roll over to reach it.

He grabbed the camera, dug around in the grass, then looked up at the foyer doors and ran off.