“What the hell was that about?” I asked him, chasing him through the student parking lot.
He didn’t answer.
“Trace!” I grabbed his arm to get his attention.
“Leave it alone, Jemma. It’s nothing.” He pulled his arm free and continued walking.
I practically had to jog just to keep up with his stride. “It didn’t sound like nothing.”
No answer.
Goddamn his stubborn ass! I planted my feet in the ground and stopped. “Who were you talking about before?” I shouted.
I wasn’t sure if it was the tone of my question or the fact that my footsteps had stilled behind him, but he finally came to a rest. Shoulders squared, he didn’t bother turning around.
“When you said he was trying to snake in on your girlfriend,” I clarified even though I knew we were already on the same page.
“Who do you think?” he answered, turning to face me. His expression fell heavy on me like he was offended that I was even asking him the question. “You, Jemma. I was talking about you.”
“But I’m not—”
“It’s just a word,” he quickly said, taking a slow step towards me. “I know you’re not my girlfriend.” His eyes, full of desire and want, moved down the length of my body and then up again. “But you will be.”
The wind picked up, rustling his ebony hair as he stared down at me in the parking lot. He was so certain of us—of our fate, like he knew what was going to happen before it even had a chance to come to fruition. Why? Because of what Morgan saw? Because of what she told him? All of that could change in the blink of an eye—evaporate into absolute nonexistence. Nothing was certain in this world. Nothing. Not love or friendship or happy endings.
Sometimes, not even death.
“Why do you always have to be so sure of yourself?” I tried to demand the answer out of him, but it came out meek and afraid like I didn’t have the courage to let myself feel any hope and didn’t want him doing it for the both of us.
“I’m not,” he said, walking up to me slowly. “I’m sure about you.”
“Well, maybe you shouldn’t be,” I said clumsily. I wasn’t sure why I said that to him. Maybe it was because I knew what was coming—the darkness that was skirting along the horizon. Who knew if I was going to survive any of it; if I would even live long enough to be his girlfriend someday? In future Trace’s world, I was already a goner. Toast. Persona non grata. Maybe all of this was just a prelude to that.
The only thing I knew for sure was what I had to do. The outcome of it all was as slippery as an oil slick. The harder I tried to hang on to it, the more it fumbled out of my hands.
“I’m going to see Dominic tonight,” I told him, silently resigning myself to the only fate I currently knew.
“Dominic?” His face twisted in anger. “For what?”
“He offered to help me” —I swallowed down the nervous lump at the back of my throat— “test my blood.”
“Is that right? And how is he going to do that?” The way he said it, all snide and cynical, made it clear he already knew the answer and didn’t approve.
“I’m going to give him some of my blood and then—”
“That’s not happening,” he cut in before I could finish the rest of the sentence. Crossing his arms over his chest, he walked up to me and stopped just inches from where I stood, his jaw ticking furiously as he bent down towards me. “He’s not putting a finger on you and that’s the end of it.”
“That’s not your decision to make,” I said carefully, holding his gaze as steadily as I could. “I need to be prepared. I need know what my blood can do, and I have to do it before Engel or the Council does.”
“Then we’ll figure it out another way.”
“There isn’t another way.” I had already ran through my entire list of options more times than I cared to admit, and quite frankly, it was a pretty short list. Outside of grabbing some random Rev off the street, Dominic was my only good option. “I have to do this, Trace. It’s the only way to know for sure.”
Realizing he wasn’t going to change my mind, he shook his head and then dropped it in defeat.
“I need to know the truth.”
“I’m not okay with this.”
“I know.”
“But you’re doing it anyway,” he answered for me.
I nodded, my eyes and heart filled with regret.
“Then I’m coming with you.” The urgency in his voice from earlier had returned with a vengeance. “You’re not going there alone. If anything happens—if he even steps an inch out of line, I’m sending him straight to Sanguinarium myself.”
“Do you really think that’s the best idea?” I asked, picturing an ex-Keeper locked in a room with a vampire who would be testing my blood (and, consequently, his own limits) while the former watched on, powerless to stop it.
Wetting his lips, he tipped in closer to me, bringing his mouth within a dangerous reach of mine. “I think it’s the best decision I’ve made all week.” He closed the tiny gap between our mouths and pressed his lips into mine.
My breath caught.
With just one kiss, Trace could melt my body like butter, clear out my mind like I had reached nirvana. The only worry I had when I was in his arms was if my shaky legs would be able to keep me up long enough to enjoy it.
And therein lay my problem.
I put my hand out and pressed it against his chest, bringing the kiss to a cold, dead stop.
His eyebrows rutted in confusion.
“Trace, I can’t do this right now,” I said, shaking my head. I couldn’t let myself get distracted; sidetracked. Taylor was depending on me and I owed it to her to give this everything I had. “I need to stay focused—”
“Save it, Jemma. I get it,” he said, pulling back like a rubber band. Fury filled his scrutinizing eyes as he backed away from me and then bolted for his car.
“Woah. Wait a minute!” I shouted after him as he pulled out his keys and unlocked the doors. “Don’t you dare walk away from me like that!”
He stopped cold in his tracks, his back to me and his hand still gripping the door handle. When he finally turned around to face me, I could see him clenching his teeth so hard I thought his jaw might bust.
“What the hell was that?” I demanded.
“I don’t get it,” he said, shaking his head. “You had no problem kissing him, yet you won’t kiss me?”
“I didn’t kiss Caleb!” I said indignantly.
“Not Caleb. My Alt.”
I quickly realized what this was about. “You’re the same person, Trace.”
“No, we’re not,” he said, taking a small step towards me. “He screwed you over. I didn’t. You can’t even look me in the eye half the time because of what he did to you that night, yet you kiss him?” he said, outraged by it.
“It’s not like that,” I said, shaking my head at his summary. “You’re twisting everything around.”
“Then tell me how it is, Jemma. Untwist it,” he said sarcastically as he marched over to where I stood. Crossing his arms over his chest, he tipped forward so we were closer to eye level. “I want to know what was so different about him.”
“I don’t know, he just was.”
“Why?”
“Because,” I said, searching desperately for the words that would explain this all away. All my searching amounted to four small words. “Because he loves me.”
He didn’t flinch. “How do you know?”
“He told me he did. And I felt it.”
“How? What did he say to you?” he probed deeper, his eyebrows rutted with curiosity as though our very future depended on it.
I shook my head at him. I didn’t want to tell him about the promises of tomorrow, about what future Trace had professed to me. I didn’t want to sway his feelings for me in any direction other than the direction they were meant to go.
Realizing I wasn’t going to elaborate, he shifted gears. “And what about me now?�
��
“What do you mean?”
“Do you think I love you?”
I hesitated before answering. “I think you want to love me,” I answered as honestly as I could. “I think Morgan’s vision convinced you that you’re going to love me, but I think you’re still confused.”
“Confused about what?”
“About how you feel. About Nikki,” I added, cursing her name as it cut through my lips. “You have history, that much is obvious, but for some reason or another, you keep going back to her and I think that says a lot.”
“She’s a friend, nothing else. You're reading too much into it.”
“Maybe.” I shrugged. “Maybe not. All I know is that’s the way I feel about it, and I can’t change that.”
“I don't know what to say to get it through to you. I don’t have feelings for Nikki.” His gaze shifted to the school building behind us. “I’m not sure I ever did,” he added with a slow, regretful blink.
“What do you mean?”
“What do you think I mean?” he shot back, uncrossing his arms. “What I feel for you—right here, right now—I didn’t feel even half of that the entire time I was with her.” He took a purposeful step towards me, putting himself in my line of fire so that I had nowhere to aim my eyes but at him.
My breath caught in my throat.
“I want to be with you, Jemma. Only you,” he said with enough heat in his eyes to melt an ice age. “If it’s time you want, then I’ll give it to you, but sooner or later, you’re going to run out of excuses.”
He words resonated in my ears as he took a slow step backwards and then took off for his car, leaving me in the parking lot with an echo of his words in my head, and a raging fire in my heart.
19. THE BREAKFAST CLUB
The rain picked up where it left off this afternoon, slicing across Trace’s windshield like plummeting axes as we pulled up to Huntington Manor later that evening. I felt my pulse hasten at the sight of the looming house and what awaited me inside, and even though that small voice at the back of my mind kept screaming for me to turn around and go home, I didn’t dare utter the words aloud.
The truth was right there within my reach and I was determined to grab it with both hands no matter how thorny or agonizing it may be.
We climbed out of his Mustang and hurried up the water-slicked front steps. Fearing he would change his mind, I decided not to call Dominic ahead of time and let him know that there’d been a change in the guest list. Of course, now that we were here, it only made me more nervous to face him.
“Are you sure he’s home?” asked Trace as he pounded his fist against the front door. He crossed his arms over his chest and waited. “He’s probably out chasing down a snack.”
“Shush,” I said, worried that Dominic, with his near-perfect hearing, would overhear him and end this before it even had a chance to get started.
The door swung open just as Trace was about to bang on it for a third time.
“That’ll suffice, Romeo. Thank you for alerting my entire neighborhood to your presence.”
“What did you just call me?”
“Which begs the question,” continued Dominic, ignoring Trace as he turned to me, “what pray tell is he doing here?”
“What do you think I’m doing here?” answered Trace. “Did you seriously think I would let you get within a mile of her without me there?”
“Heavens no,” mocked Dominic, knowing we’d been alone together on more than one occasion already. He turned to me and smirked. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
“Dominic,” I warned.
“Yes, love?”
“Can we get this started please? It’s pouring rain out here,” I said, hugging my arms for warmth.
“Of course, angel. Come in,” he said, stepping aside so that I could enter. As soon as I passed him, he quickly placed himself back in the doorway. “Unfortunately for you, this is a two-person party and you’re not invited.”
“Unfortunately for you,” said Trace, shoving him out of the way. “I’m not a bloodsucker so I don’t need any invitations.” He walked right on in like he owned the place.
A low rumble escaped the back of Dominic’s throat. It sounded a lot like a growl.
“Down, dog,” said Trace absentmindedly as he inspected his surroundings. It was clear that he’d never been here before but it didn’t seem to make him nervous in the least. He shucked off his jacket and tossed it on the settee before grabbing a hold of my hand and leading us into the dimly lit house.
Dominic glared at him as he picked up Trace’s jacket and hung it on the coat rack.
We followed the flickering light from the fireplace and walked into the study; the same room Dominic and I had previously convened in to discuss our plans. I didn’t bother mentioning that part to Trace and hoped that Dominic wouldn’t bring it up either.
“Real romantic,” scoffed Trace, flicking on a light switch.
“Well, I do have a reputation to uphold,” answered Dominic as he poured himself a drink—probably a double.
“As what?” laughed Trace, taking a seat on the sofa closest to the fireplace. “A douchebag?”
“Trace, don’t,” I warned.
“I’m fairly certain you already have that category covered,” replied Dominic.
“I’m fairly certain you should watch your mouth if you know what’s good for you.”
“Tsk, tsk. Threatening a Revenant in his own home,” sneered Dominic. “I suppose your premature age and subpar aptitude prevent you from knowing any better.”
“But it doesn’t prevent me from shoving my foot up your ass,” retorted Trace.
“Ugh!” I threw my head back and flopped down onto the sofa. This was going even worse than I anticipated.
“You look stressed, angel. Would you care for a drink?” asked Dominic, turning his attention to me.
“Enough with the pet names,” warned Trace, clearly irritated by Dominic’s terms of endearment for me.
Undaunted, Dominic’s stare remained fixed on me. “Love?” he asked again, and I quickly shook my head.
“I said stop calling her that shit.”
“Or what?” Dominic chuckled as he picked up his drink and walked over to where we were sitting, his eyes darkening with menacing shadows. “I could dismember your body in two flat seconds,” he informed, his lips curling up on one side as he sat down in the chair across from us.
Trace leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees as he stared him down. “I’d really like to see you try, dead boy.”
“Alright, enough!” I yelled, shooting up to my feet like a pop tart. “Both of you need to just shut up!”
Caught off guard by my eruption, they both sunk back into their seats and stared up at me in surprise.
“I came here for one reason and it’s not to listen to the two of you bicker back and forth with each other!”
With furrowed brows, Trace stretched his arm along the back of the sofa and looked up at me intensely—almost as though he were seeing me for the first time. Dominic swiveled his drink around his glass, a mindless gesture, though his eyes were also pinned on me with great interest.
Apparently, the floor was mine.
“Look, we’re on the same side,” I started, bouncing glances between the two of them. “We all want to know what I am—what my blood can do—so either we work together and get this done, or you two can stay here and argue and I’ll go figure this out on my own.”
“That needn’t be necessary, angel,” said Dominic, taking a sip of his drink. “I’m sure we can find a way to work in peace.”
“Good.” I turned to Trace expectantly.
He held my gaze for a few seconds, his jaw muscles ticking as he considered my request, and then tipped his head once in agreement. “Whatever you want.”
“Great.” I nodded, pleased with my efforts. “Now that it’s settled, let’s move on to what we came here to do.”
“Alright,” agreed Trace.
“Excellent,” said Dominic with a devious smile playing across his lips. “I think that’s a fine suggestion.”
My eyes veered to his mouth. Mesmerized by the shiny glint of his teeth, a rush of anxiety barreled through me as I realized those very same teeth would soon be piercing holes through my skin. Any minute now, I was going to willingly feed my blood to a murderous Revenant, offering myself up to him like some cheap date, and then hope to God that he didn’t tear my head clean off my neck as a thank you.
There was absolutely no turning back now, and all I could think was, what the hell did I just get myself into?
20. DEATH WISH
“I propose we do this precisely as it occurred with Engel,” suggested Dominic.
“No way,” said Trace vehemently. “You’re not putting your fangs anywhere near her.” His body arched forward in a threatening way as he narrowed his eyes at Dominic. “I know what you’re trying to do and it’s not going to happen.”
“What are you talking about?” My gaze bounced to Dominic and then back to Trace. “What is he trying to do?”
“He’s trying to strengthen the bloodbond—the connection you have.” Trace’s jaw muscles pumped in frustration as he glared at Dominic. “He has to bite you to do that.”
I didn't know much about how bloodbonds worked, only that it took longer for the connection to form between Revenants and Descendants, as opposed to Humans and Revenants, which was almost an instantaneous connection.
“Nonsense,” said Dominic. “I simply want to make the trial as effective as possible.” He slumped back in his chair and crossed his legs. “We need to recreate that night using the same exact variables, otherwise the outcome could potentially be skewed and this whole thing will be for nothing.”
“It won’t be skewed,” answered Trace, turning to me. “We’ll make a small incision on your hand and let the blood drip out from there. He can drink it from a glass or whatever the hell he drinks his blood from.”
I shook my head. “He’s right, Trace. Engel didn’t drink my blood from a cup. He bit me. We have to recreate that night exactly as it happened.” Fear trickled into my bloodstream as I said the words, but I refused to let it affect me. I was determined to find out the truth, no matter how scary or unsettling it was.
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