Jessica's Guide to Dating on the Dark Side (30 page)

"Cool. Free."

I sipped my punch again, wishing Jake and I had more in common. Maybe it had been a mistake to come with him. Maybe I should have just stayed home. . . .

"Whoa." Jake's eyes widened, and he pointed over my shoulder. "Check that out."

"What?" I turned, and my heart seized up for a second. Lucius had arrived with Faith's hand tucked in the crook of his arm. She was shimmering in a silver gown, with thin straps that slithered down her shoulders and gloves that snaked up to her elbows, her fair hair seized within a sparkling tiara, like some sort of ice princess. A harshly glittering snow queen.

And Lucius . . . Lucius was her dark counterpart in a per-fectly fitting tuxedo. Even from across the gym it was easy to see that his suit was no rental like Jake's. Lucius's tuxedo was expertly custom-tailored for his tall, lean body, the pants cut perfectly to break at the top of shoes as impeccably polished as his manners.

I glanced at Jake. His tux was appropriate. Conservative black. Nothing obnoxious or embarrassing. But it strained across his bulging shoulders, and his bow tie was just the slightest bit askew.

It was completely unfair to compare the two—I mean, Jake couldn't afford a custom tux—but compare them I did. My blood-pact partner had never looked so good. And Faith glistened like a tall, cool icicle dripping from his arm. She leaned close, pulling Lucius down, whispering in his ear. He laughed, flashing teeth as pure white as his crisp shirt.

"Ethan is not going to like this," Jake muttered, grinning.

Glancing around the dark gym, I easily located Ethan Strausser, with his pudgy goon partner Frank Dormand at his side. Ethan was shooting daggers at Lucius and Faith, his chest actually heaving with rage. He clenched his paper cup, and punch shot out onto his shirt, which only angered him more. He brushed at the stain, and I could see his lips forming a stream of curses.

"Oh yeah, he's pissed," Jake noted. "Luc better watch himself in the parking lot. I heard Ethan wants to annihilate him. Go nuclear on his ass for going after Faith."

I looked back to Lucius. He was leading Faith onto the dance floor, and she sort of tumbled into his arms, her gloved hands creeping up his chest, circling his neck. He slipped his hand onto the small of her back, resting it in the curve of her spine.

I'd seen enough. "Come on," I said, grabbing Jake's hand. "Let's dance."

"Sure, if you're not afraid of me stepping on your shoes," Jake joked. "I'm not too good."

"It's okay, Jake," I assured him, suddenly feeling a tender spot in my heart for the guy who led me across the gym, my hand clutched in his stubby, work-calloused fingers. Of course Jake couldn't dance, and he didn't own a tux, or know how to pay a suave compliment. He was a farm kid, not Romanian royalty. I slipped into his arms, and we made slow circles under the twinkle lights.

"This feels nice," Jake said, holding me close.

"Yes," I agreed, trying to focus on that feeling of tenderness.
He's nice, Jess. Try to feel something. Try to just enjoy being with a nice, normal guy. . . . Try to forget Lucius and vampires and pacts. . . .

Jake leaned his forehead against mine. We were nearly the same height. "Jess . . ." He pulled me closer. "It's been a while since I've kissed you."

"Yes, it has been," I agreed, not sure what else I could say.
Just try, Jess. . . .

Jake nuzzled closer. His lips were just about to meet mine, when he was yanked away. "Hey, what the . . . ?"

"May I cut in?"

Lucius was looming over us, smiling, but not in a happy way.

Jake twined his arm back around my waist. "Luc, we're kind of dancing here."

"And I 'm cutting in. That's how dancing works where I come from."

"We're not in . . . wherever you come from," Jake said.

"Lucius!" I hissed through gritted teeth, glaring at him.
No.
He had no right.

Lucius put a hand on Jake's shoulder. "My apologies, if I misunderstood your customs. But please, indulge me. I will not keep her from you long."

Jake looked to me, uncertain.

"Just give us a second, Jake," I said, looking daggers at Lucius. "I'll handle it."

Jake shot Lucius a dark look, too. "Just one dance." Then he stomped off through the crowd, clearly not pleased.

"What do you want?" I demanded. "We were just about—"

"Yes, I saw what you were 'just about.'"

"That's none of your business."

The song ended, and I crossed my arms over my chest, as though shielding myself against him. Because even when I hated Lucius, I felt vulnerable to him. "The song is over, Lucius. Go back to Faith."

"There will be a new song," he said. "That is how these events work, yes?"

And, of course, another song started.

"Shall we?" Lucius asked, slipping his arm around my waist, drawing me to himself.

"You won't stop until you get your way, will you?"

"No."

"Just one song, then," I grumbled, allowing myself to be pulled into his arms, hating the traitorous flutter in my stomach.

"Do you dance, Jessica?" he asked, smiling down at me. "Waltz? Quadrille?"

"You know I don't."

"Ah, but with your grace, you should. I could have ..." Lucius seemed to catch himself, and trailed off. "For now, like this," he instructed, guiding my left hand to his shoulder and taking my right hand into his own, holding it close to his chest. His palm felt cool against the small of my back. That familiar coolness. Part of who he was.
No, Jess. . . don't buy into it. . . . He's with Faith. . . . You're just a potential "mistake."

"Just follow my lead," Lucius advised. "I shall guide you. Just trust me."

Yeah. Trust you.
... Yet I allowed myself to be led, my body echoing his.

"Yes, Jessica," Lucius said, looking down at me with admiration in his eyes. "You are a natural, as I would expect."

As soon as he said that, I stumbled against him, stepping on those impeccable shoes.

"Sorry," I apologized as he steadied me, drawing me even closer.

"It's all right," Lucius said. I realized that we had slowed, almost imperceptibly, but enough to put us out of synch with the music, moving to our own quieter rhythm. "Everyone stumbles now and then," he added. "As you well know." He guided my hand to his cheek, placing my fingertips against the place I'd smacked. "I still sting here when I shave. But it was deserved."

"If you're trying to apologize ..."

"I'm trying to compliment you," he said. "It is the rare individual who can strike
me and
walk away unscathed."

The song was a long one, and we swayed together, still slightly out of time, but my heart had begun beating its own quick rhythm, the longer we held each other. God, I didn't want to feel this way. I wanted to hate Lucius with even greater fervor for thrusting himself into my date, interrupting my attempt at a
nice
evening. I tried to keep Faith in mind.
Faith, Faith, Faith. Jake, Jake, Jake. Mistake, mistake, mistake.

Lucius placed his fingers under my chin, tilting my head so he could see my eyes again. "I had no right to barge in like that. . . but I suppose old habits die hard."

For some reason, when he said that, I wanted to cry. I wanted the song to end right then, or maybe go on forever. And I wanted to cry.

"You just look so beautiful tonight," he continued. "When I saw you in that gown . . . God, Jessica. I thought you were gorgeous before—and yet you outdo yourself this evening." His fingertips stroked the back of my gown, feeling the rich fabric. "Black velvet and silk are perfect upon you. You are like a living Chopin nocturne. A soft, yet stirring harmony meant to be enjoyed at night..."

"Don't, Lucius . . ."

"I just couldn't allow that
boy
—"

"You're with Faith," I reminded him, a bit sharply. "Not me."

A fleeting pain flashed in his eyes, almost as if I'd slapped him again. "Yes, of course. Of course you are right. I won't interfere again, Antanasia. I promise."

My fingers tightened on his shoulder at the sound of my old name. The name I'd noticed he'd
stopped
using
.
"You called me by my name. My old name."

Lucius squeezed my hand, pressing his thumb against my palm. "Old habits. Old names. Old souls."

"Is that what we are?" I searched his dark eyes.
We had a connection. . . . Dark mountains, blood pacts. . . He couldn't deny it. . . .

But he did. "These are new times."

Still, Lucius let go of my hand in order to embrace me more completely, draw me even closer, until I almost felt like I was a part of him, hardly dancing anymore, just standing together in the middle of the room.

"How you do vex me," he finally whispered, bending close to my ear. "How you do test my resolve."

And before I could even question what he meant—
me,
the vexing one?—he rested his forehead against mine, as Jake had just done. Only Lucius didn't move his mouth toward mine. He simply drew his lips gently across my cheek, down along my jaw . . . down to my throat.

A ferociously wonderful and terrifying sensation shuddered through me, and in the split second his lips crossed my jugular the whole gym disappeared. We were alone, I swore, in a candlelit stone room, our bare feet on a thick Persian rug, a fireplace blazing at my back. I'd been there; I knew it.

Lucius opened his mouth slightly, and I felt the faintest touch of his fangs caressing my skin, just above the spot where my blood pulsed strongest.

His fangs. . .

I didn't care if it was irrational. I didn't care if it was impossible. I just wanted to
feel
them. I needed them, like I'd never needed anything in my life. In my own mouth, my own teeth began to ache. That delicious, delirious agony of something struggling so hard to be born.

"Lucius . . . please ..." I bent my head back, exposing my throat to him, longing to wrap my hands around the back of his neck, shove my fingers up into his long, dark hair, and pull those fangs deep into my veins. The longing was so intense that it was pain, too. Pain and pleasure intermingled in the most inconceivably marvelous way possible . . .

"Oh, Antanasia," he whispered, voice rough in my ear, moving against me, testing my flesh with those razor-sharp incisors. . . .

Now . . . now . . . please make it now. . . .

"Excuse me! Hello!"

The image shattered. My eyes popped open, and I was back in the Woodrow Wilson gym, under the red and green streamers, bombarded by too many twinkle lights. We stepped apart abruptly, and Lucius raked his hand through his black hair, licking his lips, his fangs gone. He seemed genuinely shaken.