Hunting Season (Aurora Sky (5 page)

I got up. I had to get out of there.

Inside, my heart raged, but nobody noticed the vampire in torment. After stuffing my textbook, notepaper and pen inside, I grabbed my backpack by the top loop. The moment I walked out of the classroom, I felt instantly better. Free.

My feet carried me quickly down the hall, past corkboards papered in fliers, students walking in pairs, and professors headed to teach class.

I practically ran down the stairs until I pushed through the double doors leading into an open courtyard. Students sat at picnic tables and sprawled out across the lawn while the weather still permitted. Everyone around me looked like they belonged there.

Meanwhile, I felt like a dowager at a rock concert.

I was an old soul. That was the problem. Even though I was from this century, I had trouble relating to my generation.

I took my phone out and dialed Fane. Instantly, I felt less alone with the promise of someone to talk to. Better yet, he answered after the first ring.

“Is this a mission related question or do you just miss me?” Fane asked in a devious voice.

“I'm having a problem,” I said.

“What is it? What's going on?” Fane asked, instantly switching his tone. “Where are you?”

“I'm on campus. I was in class, but I walked out. I couldn't sit there anymore. My classmates were starting to look like walking, talking blood sacks.”

The line went quiet. Suddenly Fane laughed.

Once he'd regained his breath, he said, “Welcome to my world.”

“The underworld,” I said sarcastically. “What about you? How do you fill the void now that you're no longer Denali High's number one delinquent?”

Fane had told me he was taking a break from the whole high school charade this year. Since Joss was the one who supported them with his online rare books business, I wasn't sure how Fane passed his time without any kind of daily routine.

“The real question is how does Principal Romero pass the time now that I'm gone?”

“I'm sure he has one less grey hair on his head this semester,” I said, watching that I didn't run into anybody as I circled the courtyard.

“Two less,” Fane said. “As I recall, you paid a visit to his office at the beginning of the year—three days suspension for fighting.” Fane clicked his tongue. “Bad girl.”

Sizzles ran up and down my spine, humming like a power line along a mountain pass.

I remembered that day clearly. Fane had followed me onto the public bus after Principal Romero finished suspending me. But I was the one who'd jumped into Fane's lap and stuck my tongue down his throat.

“And now you're cutting class,” Fane observed.

I circled around a building, leaving the courtyard behind. It wasn't exactly a telephone booth, but I had the shaded corner to myself. Was this what my life had come down to? A vampire watching humanity from the shadows?

My eyes watered. I'd been holding it in since I first walked onto campus.

Betraying nothing with my voice I said, “I don't know what I'm supposed to do with myself. I don't know how to spend forever. I don't even know what to do today or right now, this second.”

Fane was silent a moment before answering. “All you have to do is take it one day at a time.”

My face dropped. “I expected something better than a bull-shit answer from you, Fane Donado.” The next pause was longer than the last. I couldn't hear so much as a crackle or breath on the other line. Finally I asked, “Did I lose you?”

“Not a chance,” Fane answered right back. “You want to know what to do with yourself?”

“Yes.”

“Live each day in the present. To regret what might have been is to live in the past. To worry about what's to come is to live in the future. The question is, what does Aurora Sky want to do right now?”

You
, I thought.
I want to do you. I want you to taste me the way no man or vampire has tasted me before. I want you to make love to me for so long I can't think of a damn thing besides how good you feel inside me… finally. I want to forget everything—yesterday, today, tomorrow, the present, the past, the future. I don't care what moment I'm living in. I want you.

Naturally, I said none of the above. I said something almost worse.

“Can you come over?”

The silence that followed was different. If a smile had a sound, this was it—the soft exhalation, the half-chuckle that came before Fane answered.

“I take it you're skipping the rest of the day?”

I shrugged beneath the building's shadow. “Old habits die hard.”

“I'll be right over.”

“Good. I'll see you soon,” I said, ending the call before he could answer.

Aw, hell, what had I just done?

4

I jammed my phone into my coat pocket and booked it off campus, retracing my steps home. Even on foot, I figured I had a ten minute lead on Fane. I raced up the stairs to the overhead crosswalk and back down to the other side of the street.

So much for making the Dean's List. I'd missed my high school graduation. What were the odds I'd make it through college?

I smiled at the security cam Fane installed above the front door.

“Back so soon?” I asked it. “Why yes, I am.”

I ran upstairs and gave my hair another quick brush through. The walk back and forth to campus had introduced a couple of minor tangles back into my dark hair. I shook my head in the mirror.

“What are you doing, Aurora?” I asked my reflection.

Nothing. This wasn't a booty call. I simply wanted to finish car rehabilitation. The more I could rely on myself, the less I had to count on anyone else, including Fane.

I waited on the front stoop, not wanting Fane to get any ideas by letting him in.

He pulled in soon enough, the bottom of his car scraping the driveway as he came up. I winced. From behind the windshield, Fane grinned. At least the little things still amused him.

As Fane stepped out, I moved toward him. He pushed his car door shut with his shoulder and straightened. My eyes traveled up and down his body before I could stop myself.

He wore combat boots, black jeans, a black belt, and a black V-neck taut across his chest. No man dead or alive had ever made a T-shirt look so sexy.

There was a wide black leather bracelet wrapped around his right wrist. It looked like the kind used to shackle a person's wrist to a bedpost.

My feet stopped working. Fane had no trouble closing the distance. He stopped in front of me, shoving a hand into his front pocket, thumb resting over his belt, which caused me to look down, directly into the danger zone. My eyes shot back up. Fane smirked, missing nothing.

“Aren't you going to invite me in?”

I nodded in the direction of the Jeep. “Can you teach me to drive a stick?”

Fane studied me a moment. “This is a car we're talking about, right?” The bastard stroked his belt with his thumb, drawing my attention back down.

“Of course I mean the car,” I said. “Can you teach me?” I made a point of leaving the stick part out the second time.

“Whatever you want,” Fane said.

I pulled the key from my pocket and dangled it by Dante's Alaskan Brewing Company keychain.

“Great, know a good parking lot?”

Fane grinned mischievously. “I know a great parking lot.”

I knew Fane wouldn't take me back to Denali High's parking lot, not with school in session, but the last place I expected him to drive up to was a big-ass compound with an even bigger cross raised on top of the roof.

“Really?” I asked. “A church parking lot?”

“It's spacious and it's empty.”

“You really are the Dark Prince,” I muttered.

This made Fane's smile widen.

“Fine, let's get on with it before lightning strikes us down.”

Fane had already gone over the gears on the way over, narrating his actions: first gear to second, second to third, third back down to second in a curve, and so on. I'd only half-listened as I watched his fist over the shifter and the black leather around his wrist moving with each thrust of the hand-lever.

Fane pulled into a parking spot in front of the church. He turned the car off.

“Ready to trade places?” he asked.

I pulled off my jacket, tossed it in back, and jumped down from the Jeep. We crossed paths in front of the hood, Fane grinned in passing.

Back inside the vehicle he said, “You can start by backing up.”

I reached for the key to turn on the ignition. Fane put his hand on my arm.

“Wait a second. The vehicle's in gear.”

“Right,” I said, exhaling. “I need to put it in neutral before I start it up.”

I put my hand on the gear shift and jiggled it until it loosened up and settled into the middle position. I glanced at Fane. He shot me a relaxed smile. I loved the way he didn't make me feel rushed, like I could spend the entire morning just backing up and he wouldn't utter a word of complaint.

I turned on the ignition, right foot on the brake. I pressed the clutch down with my left foot.

“Good job,” Fane said. “Now put the car into reverse.”

I pulled the gear shift down carefully and let up on the clutch and brake. The Jeep grumbled and quaked in response. I quickly put it into neutral and hit the brake.

From the corner of my eye I saw Fane's lips pucker, holding in a laugh.

“What?” I demanded.

“You put it into second.”

I shoved the clutch back down, keeping my foot on the brake and yanked the gear stick back roughly.

“You're still in second,” Fane said, voice turning serious. “You don't need to manhandle the gears that way.”

He put his hand over mine. I nearly let my foot off the brake.

Fane guided my fist around the gear shift sideways until it would no longer move.

“Now bring it down gently,” he said.

My skin tingled from his touch, even the parts of me not connected to his hand.

Fane took his hand off mine. I pulled back.

“That's it,” he said. “Now take your foot off the brake and give it a little gas while releasing your foot gently off the clutch.”

This was the tricky part; the balancing act—one foot up and one foot down. I hadn't paid much attention to Fane's combat boots on the drive over. I'd been far more focused on his arm, wrist, and hand.

I imagined my left and right foot on opposite ends of a teeter-totter and alternated pressure. The Jeep rolled back gently. I let up on the clutch some more, backing up several feet before stopping.

“Excellent,” Fane said.

Yeah, it was just driving, but I was beaming inside.

“Now put it back into neutral and try going from first to second.”

Getting into first proved easy with one gentle push up. As long as I was mindful, managing the pedals wasn't so bad, either. I drove across the parking lot in first, no problem, a little jerky, but nothing I couldn't manage. As the Jeep rolled over the pavement it struck me that I was more than ready to drive again. I felt my independence returning—my sense of freedom. Driving a manual really wasn't so bad.

Everything was going great until the car choked, sputtered and died. It gave a dramatic lurch before the engine cut off.

“What the hell?” I said. I looked from the windshield to Fane. “What did I do?”

He grinned. “You tried to change gears without using the clutch.”

“Stupid stick shift,” I said. “Pain in the ass. Why would anyone want to drive one of these things, anyway?”

“You're doing great,” Fane said.

“Don't patronize me,” I grumbled.

“We've been here less than five minutes and you've already gotten the car into reverse, backed up, put it in first and driven across the parking lot. Imagine how well you'll be doing in another hour.”

My shoulders relaxed. I no longer felt like beating the steering wheel. We really had just begun the lesson.

“You're right,” I said. “All I need is a little patience.”

“You've got this.”

Fane's words engulfed me in a warm jet stream of confidence. This went beyond flirting. He believed in me. At the moment, I needed it far more than honeyed words or terms of endearment.

Fane was right. An hour later I could get all the way up to third gear—the fastest I dared inside the parking lot—without killing the engine. I spent less time thinking about what I was doing, and more time doing it.

“You're doing great,” Fane said. “Now why don't you drive us home?”

“On the road?” I grinned. “Okay.”

After rounding the far corner of the parking lot, I put the Jeep into second gear and headed for the exit. There, I shifted down to first and eased onto the road when the coast was clear. From first, I shifted to second. From second, to third.

I was feeling pretty awesome until I killed the engine trying to get going at the first intersection.

“Oh shit!” I cried, trying unsuccessfully to start the car back up. It made no noise when I turned the ignition. “Shit! It's not starting!”

“Just relax,” Fane said, like we were still inside the deserted parking lot, not blocking traffic on the Old Seward Highway.

I put my foot on the brake and tried the ignition again, and again nothing happened.

“Pretty soon people are going to be pissed,” I said.

“They can wait.”

“This is taking too long. We should trade places.”

“Aurora…” Fane said.

When I looked over his lips puckered as though, once more, attempting to hold in a laugh.

“You're still in gear.”

I looked at the gear shift.

“Oh, right,” I said. “Clutch.”

I pressed the clutch down and tried again. This time, the Jeep started.

“Ha, ha!” I cried out, inching forward in first gear.

“Look at you,” Fane said. “When we first met you wouldn't even get inside a car. Now you're driving manual. What's next? The Dakar?”

“The what?” I asked after shifting into second gear.

I could keep up with traffic in second, maybe I could stay in this gear the remainder of the way home—so long as no lights turned red. Dang nuisance, traffic lights.

“The Dakar Rally,” Fane said. “It's an off-road race that used to run from Paris through Spain and Northern Africa, ending in Dakar, Senegal. It takes place in South America now. It's one of the most dangerous sporting events in the world.”

“In that case, sign me up,” I said sarcastically. “Driving around Anchorage is dangerous enough already, thank you very much.”

Fane shrugged. “No ice in the desert.”

“Right, just sandstorms, wild animals, and who knows what else.”

“You're right about the sandstorms—they're blinding. But the animals are absolutely incredible.”

“Wait a minute.” I peeled my eyes off the road for a split-second. “You didn't participate in this race, did you?”

Although I had my eyes back on the road, I caught Fane sit up an inch taller.

“I did,” he said proudly. “I was one of the original participants in the late seventies. Did my first race in a Renault 20 and came back the next year and did it on a Yamaha. I'll try anything once.”

“Or twice?”

Fane stretched in his seat. “Once by car, once by motorcycle.”

“Daredevil.”

I took a quick glance at Fane. He raised his eyebrows.

“It's the Mt. Everest of motor racing. Life changing.” Fane leaned into me. “You told me you were worried about becoming cold and unfeeling. The best way to feel alive is to experience life. That sense of discovery never has to end. Life continually evolves. Just imagine the things you have yet to see.”

Fane had it down, all right. A never-ending bucket list that included travel and adventure. The truth was, he lit a fire inside of me. I not only craved that kind of freedom, but for the first time I felt like it could truly be mine.

Where would I go first once I got off Melcher's leash? What new experiences would I have? Suddenly I didn't care about a degree. College was for career-minded people entering the rat race. I was more of an adventure-minded woman who wanted to see the world and everything it had to offer.

When I first met Fane, I felt like he'd woken me out of a coma. Now it was as though he'd pulled me from the fog.

I didn't have to stop at the next two intersections. I wasn't so lucky at the third.

“Oh, crap,” I muttered.

This intersection rested on a slight incline.

“You can do it,” Fane said.

I shifted down to first and stopped. That done, I was able to look over at Fane and roll my eyes.

“Were you ever a motivational speaker in one of these former lives?” I asked.