Crave (35 page)

Savannah

Shock held me frozen for a moment. When I could move again, I ran down the stairs after the guys as fast as I could. Needles of pain burst over me as if I had run through explosions of fireworks, faded away, then returned. The guys were fighting with magic.

I shoved open the foyer doors and ran outside in time to see Dylan hit Tristan then grab the camera and run toward the front parking lot.

I started to go after him. But then I saw Tristan lying on the cement ramp. I ran to him instead.

He had a busted lip, his left cheek was starting to swell, and the knuckles on his right hand were cut and bleeding.

“Tristan, are you okay?” Kneeling, I lifted his head.

“Savannah, the grass…”

He didn't appear to be
that
beat up, yet he couldn't seem to move. Had Dylan used a freezing spell on him or something?

“Where are you hurt?” I asked, trying to stay calm. But my heart was screaming.

“Get me…to the grass,” he whispered.

Huh? “I shouldn't move you.”

“Please.”

Maybe the cement beneath us was hurting him. I didn't understand, but it didn't matter. He seemed so weak. I'd do anything he asked as long as it helped.

Moving to his head, I grabbed him under the arms and dragged him backward toward the grass. I hadn't thought I'd be able to budge him. But it turned out not to be nearly as difficult as I'd expected. Maybe because he pushed with his feet to help.

As soon as I got him to the grass, my feet slipped on the wet ground. I landed on my butt. Good enough. I cradled his head in my lap. “Is this better?”

He nodded, spread his hands palm down on the grass and closed his eyes.

Prickling began along my neck and down my arms, faint at first, then growing more intense by the second.

“Ow,” I gasped, rubbing my arms. It felt like a swarm of fire ants were attacking me.

“Sorry,” he mumbled with a tired smile. “Had to get some energy.”

“That's…you?”

He nodded.

“Oh. It's okay, then, keep going.”

The prickling returned, grew, sharpened to tiny needles stabbing me all over. I knew what a pincushion felt like now. Gritting my teeth, I fought back a whimper. It would be over soon. Surely just a little longer…

He rolled up halfway, and the sensation stopped as if he'd hit a switch. Twin handprints of burned grass marked where his hands had just been. He turned toward me and cupped my cheek, his thumb stroking away tears I hadn't realized I'd cried. “I'm okay now, Sav. Sorry about that. Is Dylan gone?”

I nodded, leaning into his hand. I was just relieved that he was okay.

“Did he get the memory card? I dropped it around here somewhere.”

I looked around us, but in the dark I couldn't see anything. “I don't know. I can't see it.”

He cursed. “I should have held on to it—”

“He was hitting you. Don't worry about it.” Gripping his wrist near my face, I closed my eyes. “You're okay. That's all I care about right now.” I sighed through my nose then froze as my stomach grumbled. Something smelled good. Maybe it was Tristan's cologne.

“Are you wearing a new cologne today?” I said, drawing in more of the overwhelming scent.

“Uh, no.” He sounded a little amused.

“Wow, you smell good.”

“Oh, no, no more kisses tonight. That's what got us in this mess.”

I should be upset at his words. But all I could focus on was how good he smelled. He seemed positively…lickable. I turned my face toward his hand still on my cheek, and the luscious scent intensified, making me want to moan.

I reached up to hold his hand and studied it. “Ouch. Your knuckles are bleeding.”

“Yeah, I busted them on his face. Obviously not often enough, though. Listen, if he did find the memory card, I don't think he'll really send those pics to your family. His problem is with me, not you. He just likes to play head games…”

His voice faded away along with all other sounds except the solid, strong thud of his heart.

I brought his wounded fingers to my mouth and kissed a scraped knuckle. And the single most intoxicating,
mind-numbing, soul-shattering flavor exploded across my tongue.

It was like red velvet cake, chocolate meringue pie, rocky-road ice cream and apple pie à la mode combined. But better. A million times better. I could live on this flavor for the rest of my life and die happy. I kissed the next knuckle on his hand, and the flavor filled me again, just a sip of pure heaven to tease and tantalize and drive me mad with need for more.

I could sell my soul without hesitation for a cupful of this taste.

“Savannah? Savannah!” Tristan pulled his hand from my grasp, and I nearly wept, the loss was that intense. The scent faded away, the taste on my tongue fast following it.

Despair swamped me, and I buried my face in my hands in an effort to hold it in. It was either that or scream from the emotion. I pulled in long breaths of clean air to clear my system of the druglike effects. But I couldn't clear out the memory of that smell, that taste on my tongue.

Slowly, reason seeped back in until I couldn't understand why I'd lost control in the first place. The memory was still there, but not the emotions, allowing me to think again.

What in the
world
had just happened?

“Savannah, are you okay?”

Was I? I'd kissed his wounded hand, and then…

I glanced at his hand, at his bloody knuckles. The taste in my mouth, surely it couldn't be…

A bead of blood still shone on his split lip. Unable to believe I was really doing it, I reached up, stroked a thumb over that glistening spot, then brought my thumb to my mouth. And like before, that same scent and taste filled my nose and mouth, drowning out every other sense, hollowing me out so nothing was left to take up room inside me. Clearing away everything I was, so only the craving was left. But this time, that craving was tainted by horror.

A nightmarish chorus of hisses, high-pitched like nails drawn across a thousand chalkboards, screeched from nearby, breaking through the mental fog and drawing my attention.

The watchers, just ten yards away on the opposite side of the road, bared their teeth and fangs at me.
Fangs.
Ohhh, holy crap.

I shot to my feet, and the vampires fled together in a blur.

“Savannah. What's wrong?” Tristan stood up beside me, the panic in his voice an echo of the fear pulsing through me.

“The watchers. They just hissed at me then took off.”

“And before that? You completely zoned out on me.”

“I…” I could
not
tell him about this, could never admit what seemed too horrible for even my own mind to absorb. “I…have to go home.” Now. Before I did something way worse than just lick the blood off his fingers. I fumbled in my jacket pocket, found the team keys and all but threw them at him, afraid to get too close to him again. “Please lock up for me.”

“You have to go home? Right now?”

I nodded, but even that tiny movement threatened to shatter my self-control.

“Well, at least let me walk you—”

“No! I can't. I'm sorry. I…” I could see a vein pulsing in the side of his neck, right there beneath the thin, breakable surface of his skin.

How easy would it be to cut that skin? Just a little nick, and then…

Oh, my God.

Unable to say another word, total loss of control seconds away, I turned and ran for my truck. The key scratched around the keyhole before I could get the door unlocked. I threw myself in, started the engine and caught a tear-blurred glimpse of Tristan running toward me as I sped away. He looked upset, confused, but okay.

He would be okay now. The watchers were gone. Tristan obviously wasn't weak anymore, judging by how hard he had been running after me. And since I'd left, he would be safe from me, too.

Tristan

It was a night for insanity all around apparently. I ran after Savannah, reaching the parking lot in time to see her truck fishtail out the exit in a flurry of spitting gravel and squealing tires. Wow, she'd gotten to her truck fast.

Slow down, Sav, please.
I willed her to hear me.
You're going to get into a wreck if you don't.

I'd have to go after her and make sure she got home okay.

Jogging back into the sports and art building, I crossed to the far end of the entrance hall and slapped a hand over all four light switches at once, plunging the foyer into darkness. I would lock the foyer doors, too. That should be enough to keep out any vandals. Later I'd come back, turn off the upstairs lights we'd left on and grab our things. But only after I made sure Savannah got home safely.

Moonlight shone through the windows at either side of the foyer doors, lighting my way toward them. If I hurried, I might even catch up to Savannah before she got home. Then we could talk about whatever had freaked her out so badly.

A sharp sting stabbed at the side of my neck, and the world went black.

Savannah

I had to pull over. I couldn't see the road through my tears.

It had finally happened. I'd felt the bloodlust. That was the only explanation for it.

No denying it now. I was turning into a full-fledged
vampire. And that put Tristan in an incredible amount of danger. From me.

I didn't have any excuses anymore. I would have to break up with him. Tonight.

Fumbling with my cell phone, I finally managed to dial his cell. Only to reach his voice mail instead. I couldn't leave a message; his parents might hear it.

When I couldn't cry any more, I finished the drive home then trudged into the house.

“Savannah, your father finally called again,” Nanna said as soon as I shut the front door.

“What? Did he leave a—”

“On the hall table by the phone.”

I ran for the phone and number. Oh,
please,
let him have a solution for all of this!

He answered on the first ring.

“Dad!” The relief was so sharp it was almost painful, making me forget how much I wanted to hate him. I sank onto the edge of my bed. It would be all right now. He might still be a spy for the council, but at least he had the answers I needed to fix everything. “Oh, man, do I need to talk to you. Are you okay? I thought you'd be gone for weeks, not months.”

“I am fine. And, yes, we do need to talk. However, it should be done in person. I am back in the States now. Can you meet me for lunch tomorrow at our usual restaurant? Eleven o'clock sharp. Be sure to dress nicely.”

Dress nicely? He must have gone off the deep end while on his trip. And what was with the businesslike tone? “Um, sure, Dad. But you sound…weird. Is something wrong?”

“We will discuss it tomorrow. See you at eleven.” He hung up.

I stared at the phone, muttered, “Yeah, I missed you, too, Dad,” then ended the call. I don't know why I'd thought the
conversation would go any better than that. After all, nothing had really changed. Just because I'd admitted I was happy he was okay didn't mean he cared about me now.

Exhaustion pushed down on my shoulders, making it hard to even breathe, much less deal with yet another problem tonight. Sleep. All I wanted was sleep. I would deal with everything tomorrow.

Flopping back on my bed, I flipped the comforter over myself, then fell asleep still dressed with all the lights on.

I couldn't remember my dream when I woke up late the next morning. All I could remember was that Tristan had been in it and trying to tell me something, but he kept disappearing in a haze the exact color of blood.

I didn't want to think about him or what happened last night. Or the color of blood. Normal. I would surround myself with the normal today.

I had to rush through a shower in order to get ready in time for the lunch meeting with my father. I threw on the only pantsuit I had and twisted my hair into a low bun. It was while I was dabbing on some makeup to partially hide my puffy eyes and red nose that Anne called.

“Hey, the girls and I wanted to know if you will come with us to Tyler today,” she said. Her tone was a little flat, as if she already knew my answer.

“I really wish I could, but I'm meeting my father for lunch today, then I have Charmers Spring Show practice until late tonight.”

“Yeah, I figured you couldn't,” she muttered.

“Aw, Anne, don't be—”

“I know, I know. Don't be mad, and you'll see us next week in the cafeteria.” She sighed. “We just kinda miss hanging out with you outside of school, you know?”

Lord, the guilt was just piling up on me lately. “What if
we have a group slumber party next weekend? I could come right after practice.”

“Which lasts till what, nine at night on weekends?”

I winced. “More like ten or eleven.”

She grumbled. “Nah, let's just wait till after the stupid show when you actually have time to hang out with your friends. That'll be in another month or two, right?”

“Anne—”

“I've gotta run. See you Monday.” She hung up.

Feeling tired already even though the day had just started, I ended the call and went in search of my shoes. Obviously as soon as Spring Show season ended, I would have to make sure to spend more quality time outside of school with my friends.

Nanna must have heard me getting ready in the bathroom. When I came out, she had a cup of steaming tea waiting for me on the dining table. I didn't have much time, so I drank it standing up.

“Always in such a hurry,” she murmured with a smile, shaking her head as her hands almost magically whipped a ball of soft pink yarn into the tiniest pair of baby shoes I'd ever seen. The daylight flooding in through the patio door made her silver needle flash, drawing my attention. Reminding me of the way the lights had flashed on Dylan's silver camera as he'd run off with it. “You look worried, hon. Is everything all right?”