Jessica's Guide to Dating on the Dark Side (23 page)

Or maybe Lucius hadn't forgotten my presence. His gaze flicked to me. "But of course you think I am delusional, that I ramble about impossibilities, irrational acts. And you are right: The existence of a vampire
is
irrational. We are a study in impossibilities."

Vintage blood. Fangs piercing pulse points. It did still sound crazy. But not impossible anymore. Or even undesirable, the way Lucius described it. No, not in the least. "Lucius, I saw you drink the blood. It's not impossible."

"Ahh, Jessica." He unlaced his hands from behind his head. "Why now? Why so damnably late in the goddamn game— as the perennially profane Coach Ferrin would say on the basketball court?"

"What do you mean? Late in the game?" It seemed early in the game to me. I was just starting to understand. Just starting to believe. As difficult as it was for me to wrap my brain around, I couldn't deny it any longer. I believed Lucius Vladescu was a vampire. And that I could, at the very least, smell the blood, too. Respond to it. There was so much more to understand ... to figure out. "Why is it late?"

Lucius leaned wearily into his hands, rubbing his eyes. "Why did I just tell you all that romantic claptrap? I allowed myself to get carried away. Damn, I am irresponsible sometimes. I had so wanted you to understand, and now the timing is so wrong. I had longed to tell you all that before. To share it with you. Thus, when you finally showed interest, I just couldn't shut the hell up."

"It didn't sound like claptrap,'" I assured him. On the contrary, everything he'd said had been intriguing, in an admittedly disconcerting way. "And why not now?"

But before Lucius could respond, my dad knocked on the half-open bedroom door. "Lucius, you have a visitor."

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?"