Jessica's Guide to Dating on the Dark Side (27 page)

I had to admit, it was the best book report I'd ever seen. Probably the best book report ever delivered at Woodrow Wilson High School.

I despised every moment of it.

Lucius was
my
betrothed. It should have been me up there. Something had been stolen from me. And not just a few seconds of glory in front of a classroom. I knew, at that moment, that I'd squandered my chance at a
lifetime
of glory at the side of the most compelling, infuriating, charismatic, terrifying man I'd ever met. A part of me knew that I should feel relieved. Shaking free of Lucius Vladescu was all I'd longed for, for months. And yet, all I felt was empty and defeated and desperate to figure out how to bring him back to me. Then I remembered the pact. Lucius would never dishonor the pact.
Would he?

As the applause died, Faith bounced down the aisle to take her seat behind me, followed by Lucius, who didn't even acknowledge me as he walked past.

It struck me, then. Did I even want him if he was only bound to me by obligation? What sort of victory would that be?

I glanced around at Lucius, but he was leaning forward, whispering with Faith.

A heartless, cruel, bitter, evil love. . .
Did Lucius really want that? Did he honestly want
Faith?
If so, had I ever really had a chance? Should I even consider
wanting a
chance?

Chapter 34

"I'VE GOT YOUR laundry," I called, kicking at the door to Lucius's apartment.

He swung open the door. "Why, thank you, Jessica." He accepted the heaping basket of jumbled clothes from my arms with a frown. "What is
this?"

"Mom said you can start folding your own clothes."

"But—"

"The free ride is over, Lucius," I advised him, following him into the apartment. I hadn't been inside since I'd tried to cook the disastrous Romanian dinner a week ago. The apartment still smelled a little bit like spleen.

Lucius dumped his clothes onto the bed and stepped back, surveying the tangled mess. "I suppose it's too late to hire a washerwoman ..."

"Oh, for crying out loud. Don't be such a baby. I do this twice a week. And I don't think there are any 'washerwomen' around."

"That is
your
regional misfortune, not mine." He picked up a sock, holding it out like it he'd never seen one before. "Where does one even
begin?"

I snatched the sock from his fingers. "You say you can lead a vampire nation, but you can't match socks?"

"We are all skilled differently," Lucius pointed out, unable to suppress a grin. "Fortunately, my skills fall under the heading of leadership, not 'base chores.'"

I reluctantly smiled, too.
How can arrogance grow on a
person?
"I'll
help you—once."

"Thank you, Jessica." Lucius plopped into his deep leather chair.

"I said 'help,' not 'do it for you.'"

He made no effort to move. On the contrary, Lucius smirked, slid lower in the chair and laced his fingers behind his head. "I believe I would be best served by a demonstration."

"You jerk," I cried, tossing the sock back on the pile and grabbing his arm, tugging him upright. Of course, Lucius was far too strong for me, and when he pulled back, I ended up tumbling onto his chest, both of us laughing.

Gradually the laughter faded, and our eyes really connected for the first time since that awful night I'd tried to stew a hare. Suddenly, we weren't joking at all.

"Jessica," he said softly, circling my wrist with his fingers.

"Yes, Lucius?" I leaned more heavily against his chest, my heart starting to beat harder.

Maybe I hadn't been bested by Faith . . . His eyes had that same look I'd seen on Halloween, but without the anger and frustration. Instead, there was a gentler kind of desire there. A less fearsome, but almost as frightening, desire. Yet I didn't move from him. I knew, this time, that I didn't want to move. I could handle what happened. I
would
handle it.

Releasing my wrist, Lucius tugged gently on one of my shiny curls, letting it spring back into place. "You've changed your hair. Embraced your beautiful curls."

"Do you like it?"

"You know I do . . ." He twined another lock around his finger. "This . . . this is true to you."

I shifted slightly, and my hand rested on the hard curve of his bicep. He was wearing a T-shirt, and I could feel the jagged scar that ripped across his arm. My confidence wavered for a moment.
Honor. Discipline. Force. He was raised differently from you, Jessica. . . . The Vladescus are ruthless. . . .
"How . . . how did you get this?" I asked, tracing the scar with my fingertips.

Something changed in his eyes. The glimmer in the blackness dimmed slightly. "An accident. Not a story worth telling."

He was lying.

I kept tracing the scar. It was wide, and I couldn't imagine what could tear flesh like that. . . until I thought of the weapons on his wall. But who would do that to him? To anyone?

"You can tell me what happened," I urged. /
understand you. . . . Or I can try to. . . . Why are you drawing out this side of him, Jess? Why can't you leave well enough alone? Because I want to know about him. That's why.
I wanted to know the truth about Lucius. His stories. His past. What he wanted.

"Jessica." He groaned, encircling my waist. "If we could only not talk, right at this moment. If we could just
be."

No. Whatever happened. . . it had to be on my terms, too. I'd seen him with Faith. I wouldn't be a fool. I wouldn't fall for his charm, his experience. . . not if
 
what he really wanted was someone different or something I couldn't provide. . . .

I traced the other scar, on his jaw, and he caught my hand, pulling away slightly. "Jessica ..."

"Do you really want that?" I whispered.

He kept hold of my hand, moving it to his mouth, brushing his rough lips across my palm. "Want what, Jessica?"

"What you said in class?"

He seemed uncertain. "In class . . . ?"

"A 'bitter, cruel, evil love'? Is that what you really want?"

When I said that, it was like I'd cut a cord that bound us, and Lucius, still holding my hand, sat upright, pulling me to my feet, gently but very firmly pushing me away. He stood, too.

"Lucius?"

He smiled at me then, grimly, like we hadn't just shared what we'd shared. "We loiter, wasting time, and the laundry waits on the bed," he said, the old, distancing mockery in his voice. He leaned over the mattress and grabbed a pair of his boxers. "At this rate, every wrinkle will be set. And a Vladescu may fold, under duress, but we do not iron."

"Lucius?" I touched his arm. I didn't want to know, but I
had
to know. "What, exactly is going on with you and Faith?"

Lucius shook out the underwear, studiously avoiding my eyes. "Faith?"

I sat down on the edge of the bed. "Yes. Faith."

"She intrigues me," he admitted, managing somehow to fold his own undergarments.

"Why? Why do you like her?"

As if I didn't know. Lucius Vladescu could talk all he wanted about the beauty of curves and curls and the importance of having a presence, but in the end, he was just like every other man—every
boy
—who fell for the blond, size 0 cheerleader with the flat abs, the perky little breasts, and the skinny butt that played peekaboo from under that stupid short skirt.

"Oh, Jessica," Lucius said, sounding somewhat exasperated. "I've asked you for months how you can favor a peasant, and you've never provided me a satisfactory response. Perhaps these things just can't be easily explained away."

"So you do
like
Faith?"

He looked at me then. "I
appreciate
her."

The flat-out admission made me queasy, even though I'd already known the answer. "Is there a difference?"

Lucius sighed and sat down next to me on the bed, staring at the wall. "Perhaps, Jessica. Does it really matter at this point?"

"What does that mean? Why do you keep saying things like 'at this point'? Like the pact is over? And what about the war?

"You don't even believe in the pact or the war."

"I do now," I insisted.

Lucius ignored this revelation, even though I'd thought it was all he'd ever wanted to hear from me. A small smile crossed his face. "This upcoming Christmas dance. It's a much anticipated social event, is it not?" he mused. "Girls want to go, correct? Squatty will don his best 'overalls' and take you, yes?"

"About Jake ..."
What am I going to do about Jake?
Ever since that day in the gym when I'd confided my doubts about our relationship to Mindy, I'd been distancing myself from him. And when I'd turned too eagerly away from Jake to watch Lucius perform his drama in English lit, I'd known I was turning my back on a great guy ... a guy who genuinely liked me. Someone sweet who didn't drink blood or bear dangerous scars. And yet I'd done it. "I don't know if Jake and I are going to the formal," I said. "We're sort of. .. drifting apart."

Shrugging, Lucius stood and resumed folding laundry. "You two must do what makes you both happy, Jessica. Do what is right for you."

"And you'll do what's 'right for you,' I guess," I said glumly.

"This is America, as I am constantly reminded in social studies," Lucius pointed out. "We all have a choice in everything here." He mimicked a scale with his hands. "Pepsi or Coke? Big Mac or Whopper? The old boyfriend or the new?"

"Yeah, what about Ethan?" I asked. "He and Faith have been together forever."

"I just told you, Jessica. We all have a choice. Faith has a choice. Ethan has no claim on her. I've seen no ring on her finger."

Of course Faith had a choice. And she'd already chosen Lucius. I'd seen it back in the gym and in English lit class. Hell, I'd seen it back at the 4-H competition, when she'd absently gripped my arm, watching Lucius tear up the course on his doomed mare. I just hadn't wanted to admit it to myself. The whole thing had unfolded before my face, and I'd forced myself to be blind.

Lucius smiled at me then, although there was something like sadness in his eyes. "You are fortunate, Jessica," he said. "You are not bound so tightly by tradition, by the weight of the past. You are free here. Not only to choose a soft drink but your destiny. Rather exhilarating feeling, isn't it?"

I guess I'd lived so long with my possibilities that I didn't find them quite as "exhilarating" as Lucius did. In fact, I really wished, at that moment, to be bound a bit more tightly by the past. Yet, at the same time, a sudden anger lurched through me. Anger at Lucius.