Jessica's Guide to Dating on the Dark Side (17 page)

Jake pulled away first. "I gotta get going, or I'll break curfew. I'll call you, okay?"

I realized I was still clutching the stuffed toy. "Yeah. Sure."

He leaned in to kiss me again. A light, sweet touch on the lips. "Later."

"Bye." I stood there watching as the truck pulled away.

When the taillights had almost disappeared into the darkness, I walked toward the porch, swishing the hem of my dress against my knees.
My first real kiss.

"Well, how was it?"

The deep voice coming from the darkness startled me, stopping me short. I peered into the gloom. "Lucius?"

"I'm right here."

I followed his voice to the front porch steps, where he sat in the shadows next to a dimly flickering jack-o'-lantern. I walked closer. "You were spying on me."

Lucius held out a bowl. "I'm on candy duty. Want some? I think it's mostly soy nuts left. The children were
not
happy with the selection."

I accepted a pack and sat down next to him on the step. "We don't get many trick-or-treaters out here. Nobody lives within a mile."

"Oh." Lucius shrugged. "I guess it was me that hated the soy nuts." He pulled the stuffed hot dog from my arms. "Your parents won't like this in the house. Meat toys. Did Squatty win that with some feat of physical prowess?" He tossed the wiener over his shoulder, onto a chair on the porch.

I ignored the taunt. "You were waiting for me, weren't your

Lucius stared into the dark distance. "How was it?"

"How was what?"

"He kissed you. How was it?"

I smiled, remembering. "Nice."

"Nice?" Lucius gave a short, derisive snort. "I repeat one more time: Nice is overrated."

"Please, don't go there," I urged.
Don't ruin this.

"When you kiss the right person, it will be a hell of a lot better than nice," Lucius grumbled.

"You have no right to say that." I stood to go inside, smoothing my dress. He would
not
spoil this moment for me. It would not happen.

To my surprise, Lucius relented. "You are right. That was rude. I had no right." He patted the step. "Please. Keep me company. I find that I'm melancholy this evening."

"You should have gone to the carnival," I said, sitting back down.

Lucius took a deep breath, exhaled. "There's nothing there for me."

"It was kind of fun. There were games, and we—"

"Do you ever, for one minute, look at my life from my perspective?" Lucius interrupted, a bit sharply. "Think about how I might feel?" He turned to face me, his eyes glowing dimly, like the jack-o'-lantern's. "Do you ever look beyond yourself?"

"What? Are you . . . homesick or something?"

"Something like that, yes." The glimmer flickered to life. "For god's sake. I live in a garage, away from everything I've ever known. I'm sent here to court a woman who dismisses me in favor of a peasant—"

"Jake is a perfectly nice guy, Lucius."

Lucius snorted again. "Is that what you want out of life? Nice? Must everything be
nice?"

"Nice is . . . nice," I protested.

Lucius shook his head. "Oh, Antanasia. I could show you things so far beyond nice, they'd spin your lovely head."

His voice had changed suddenly. Grown even lower and more throaty. There was a quality in it I'd never heard before but instinctively recognized.
Sexual power. Lust. Desire.
An edgy, angry, frustrated desire.

"Lucius . . . maybe we should go inside."

But he only edged nearer, spoke more softly, yet still with that hint of barely suppressed frustration. "I could show you things that would make you forget everything you know here, in your safe little life ..."

I swallowed hard.
What can he show me? What kind of not-nice things? Do I want to know?

Yes. No. Maybe.

“
Lucius . . .”

"Antanasia." He leaned even closer to me, and I found that he was breathing hard, and so was I. Inhaling the power he always exuded, sharing his rarified air. "Don't you
ever
wonder about that part of you? The part that is Antanasia?"

"Antanasia is just a name . . ."

"No. Antanasia is a person. A part of you." Then Lucius caressed my cheek, tracing it with his thumb, and I found myself closing my eyes, sort of swaying, like I was a cobra under the spell of a snake charmer. I knew I should stop whatever was happening, but I just sat there, swaying.

"That other half of you. That half would not settle for 'nice,'" Lucius said softly. He cupped my chin, and I could feel his breath on my mouth now. Cool and close. "I finally saw it, that part of your being, your spirit, when you put on that dress . . . You look so beautiful in that dress. It transforms you ..."

My dress ... I'd started to enjoy a sense of power when guys had watched me at the carnival. But with Lucius, I felt that power slip out of my control and into his hands. He took the reins as surely as he did with his half-wild horse. And that was terrifying. I licked my lips, stomach taut with that queer mix of hunger and loathing and fear that I'd felt that first time he'd bared those teeth up in his room.

Will he do that again? Will he? Should he?

"Antanasia." His lips barely touched mine, and a craving ripped through me, like the craving in my dream for that decadent, irresistible, forbidden chocolate.
No. . . I just kissed Jake. . . . I don't want to want Lucius. . . .
He was everything I
didn't
want. He thought he was a goddamn vampire. And yet I felt myself pressing against him, felt my hand reaching up of its own accord to stroke his jaw, where the scar was, a jagged path of smooth skin tracing through the rough stubble.
The violence in his childhood. . . it had made him hard. Dangerous, even? Maybe?

Lucius's arm slipped around my back, and he brushed my lips again, less gently this time. Even his mouth was hard. But I wanted to taste more. "Like this, Antanasia," he murmured. "This is how it should be . . . not
nice. .
."

He was
tempting
me
to want more. The image of him zipping up my dress, assured, knowing, flashed through my brain.
Experienced. . .
Mom had warned me.
Don't get in over your head, Jess. . . .

Lucius slid his hand up to my neck, circling the nape with his fingers, his thumb stroking the hollow of my throat. "Let me kiss you, Antanasia . . .
really
kiss you ... as you should be kissed."

"Please, Lucius . . ." Was I begging or protesting?

"You belong with me," he said softly. "With
our
kind . . . You know you do . . . Stop fighting it. . . Stop fighting
me. .
."

No!

I must have cried out loud, because Lucius pulled back abruptly. "No?" His voice was incredulous, his eyes filled with shock and uncertainty.

My mouth was moving, but no sound was coming out.
Yes? No?
"I just... I just kissed Jake," I finally stuttered. "A few minutes ago." Wasn't it wrong to mess around with two guys on one night? Wasn't that sort of. . . slutty? What the hell was this dress making me do? And that thing he'd said about
"'our
kind..."

No.

Lucius yanked his hand from my throat and leaned forward on the steps, doubling himself over, digging his hands into his long, black hair with a sound that was half groan, half growl.

"Lucius, I'm sorry . . ."

"Don't say that."

"But I am sorry .. ." Yet I didn't quite know what I was sorry for. For kissing Jake? For almost kissing Lucius? For making us stop?

"Go inside, Jessica." Lucius was still bent over his knees, fingers laced in his hair. "Now. Please."

And then the front door opened. "I thought I heard voices out here," Dad said, pretending to be oblivious to the obvious tension.

"Dad," I squeaked, popping up. "I just got home. Lucius and I were talking."

"It's getting late," Dad said, pulling me to his side. "And Lucius, I think it's safe to say trick or treat is over. You should probably head up to bed."

"Of course, sir." Lucius slowly unfolded himself and rose to his feet, too. He seemed weary as he handed the bowl to my dad. "Happy All Hallows' Eve."

"Yeah, good night," I said. Then I tore inside, ran upstairs, and yanked off my dress, tossing it to the back of my closet. I tugged at my hair until it tumbled back down around my shoulders. All back in place and normal. After pulling on a T-shirt and sweats to sleep in, I crept to the window and looked out at the garage. But Lucius's light was off. He'd gone to bed. Or perhaps he'd gone out into the night.

Mom knocked on my door. "Jessica? Are you all right?"

"Fine, Mom," I lied.

"Do you want to talk?"

"No." I just kept watching Lucius's window, not sure what I was looking for. "I just want to sleep."

"Well, then . . . good night, honey."

Mom's footsteps receded down the hall and I climbed into bed, shutting my eyes tight. I would not—would not—wonder what would draw Lucius into the darkness. Given the mood I'd left him in, I honestly feared it might be something "not nice."

Chapter
21

DEAR VASILE,

What a mess here. What a mess. This would be so much easier to express if you'd just try e-mail. It's available everywhere these days. Do consider it, please, for the duration.

Until then, I have the difficult task of informing you via post that the entire pact seems to stagger, endlessly and irrevocably, toward oblivion.

This evening . . . where to begin? What to say?

If
that
was not the moment, then I don't know what more I can do. If Antanasia did not feel as I felt at that instant in time, if she had the presence of mind to pull back, actually to cry out "No!" to me when I will admit I was too far lost to her . . . I honestly don't know what more I can do.

I am sure you can infer, from the lines above, what passed
between us, in a general sense. I will not disgrace myself
—
or dishonor Antanasia
—
by elaborating with details. To do so would be not only humiliating but ungentlemanly. And surely you understand.