Taste For Blood: Stir (Nephil-Vamp Series Book 1)

by Jenna Bernel

  The two-minute warning bell ringing in the hall caused me to flinch, and a string of curse words ran through my head as I realized I wasted all of my time talking about a party I didn't even go to, instead of trying to finish my homework. I shook off Dale's arm and took a step toward Evan.

  "Crap! Please, please, please, tell me you finished your Chem homework and I can borrow your synopsis for an example," I said in a desperate plea.

  Evan unzipped his backpack and dug around before retrieving a crumpled paper, thank God. I reached out to grab it, and he pulled it back playfully, his cheek tugging to one side in a crooked smile.

  "Only if you help me with my Culinary Arts project," he countered, still holding the paper out of reach.

  "Way to challenge yourself, Mister Ivy League."

  Evan's in the top five percent of our graduating class, and I know he could care less about any food other than the hot dogs you buy at the concession stand near the dugout.

  "Oh, excuse me, Miss Senior Sculptress, do we have a deal?" He joked, giving me a bright smile, which was the class I'd be late for if I didn't wrap this up.

  I jumped up and snatched the paper from him. "Deal." Upon landing, out of the corner of my eye I noticed the tension on Harper's face, irritated by our conversation. She gave me a tight smile and grabbed my elbow a little too hard.

  "Come on, Dani, we're going to be late," Harper said in her usually snippy tone, pulling me by the elbow down the hall to our class. Something tells me Harper just wants an excuse to dig her claws into me, and I'm sure she'll find a way, other than a tardy citation, to do just that.

  Chapter 7: Mangled Creations

  Harper and I squeezed side-by-side through the door frame just as the final bell went off. Senior Sculptures was held in a large art room, dominated by two big tables surrounded by stools for students to spread out and work. We both managed to slink into seats, facing away from the front, ignoring the teacher's glare, now boring into our backs. Harper looked at me with the silent speak of cutting it too close, and I nodded in agreement. We would have to be more careful from now on. Teachers hand out detention slips like candy around here, and not even the prom queen sitting next to me was able to avoid the school's warped form of sugar dispensation. Maybe it’s because a year’s tuition here costs more than their annual salaries; or because they live to stick us in the dungeon as a reminder of who really runs the show, just in case we get any wise ideas. Whatever the reason, one thing is for sure, after this year, I won't miss sitting in that dark, damp room of the old wing, where classes haven't taken place since 1972.

  "Grab a smock and some clay from the barrels; pick out any color you'd like. Today we're going to start learning how to throw clay on the wheel," Mr. Farrel announced. Harper glanced over her designer outfit like the teacher just handed her a pair of scissors and ordered her to shred it.

  "Like that little smock is going to protect me when the clay starts flying," she whined and looked at me with a pout, as if I could somehow get her out of this.

  I was more worried about my own choice of clothing today, realizing a skirt was a big mistake. Maybe I could drape the smock between my legs to avoid flashing the whole class while straddling the wheel. I got up and grabbed a paint-splattered apron before heading to the barrels full of clay. I decided on a dark gray that I thought would fire closer to black. Who knows, maybe I could end up with a cool new bowl for my cereal? After a short demonstration by Mr. Farrel on using the wheel, and tips for getting the clay centered, he told us to partner up and trade off our stations, so we could give helpful pointers to each other as we practiced. Harper hooked my elbow, effectively claiming me before I had any other choice, and I knew where this was going. We found an open wheel and she started nudging me toward it.

  "Why don't you go first?" she suggested, practically shoving me at the wheel.

  "No way. I'm the one wearing a skirt. You should go first. I'll fill up your finger wash cup," I offered. Grabbing the plastic container from the wheel, I was ready to bolt toward the utility sink, but she locked her hands on my shoulders.

  "Are you insane? This is a new Helmut Lang!" She said, pointing at her dark blue draped top.

  "Urgh! Fine. Would you at least get me a towel to put over my legs?" I said with a clenched jaw. There was no point arguing with Harper once she dug her heels in.

  "You got it." She smiled like a winner and yanked the water cup from my hand as she moved slowly in her heels toward the supplies area.

  I took off my cardigan, knowing Mr. Farrel would temporarily excuse the bare shoulders so I could feel free to dig into my clay. I flipped on the switch and sat down at the wheel with my future cereal bowl. I was very careful to cover my lady bits with my smock as I got comfortable in the seat, knowing Harper would most likely hover by the sink for an inordinate amount of time before bringing me that towel, while hoping to save her precious top with the delay.

  This class was sort of known as a blow-off for seniors, but I actually really liked it. Once people started in on their projects, the whole room got soothingly quiet with concentration, but there was still a vibrant energy humming through the space as students found their artistic grooves. It was a peaceful way to start the school day.

  After a few attempts at throwing, I got my lump of clay centered on the wheel. In truth, with my reflexes, I could have done it in one, but I liked to let go during the day, turning off all my over-amped senses. I just tried to enjoy the normal human moments while my heart was beating. I grabbed the water dish from the empty station next to me, giving up on Harper ever returning.

  Twisting my long auburn locks into a makeshift knot away from my face, I dipped down toward the wheel, inhaling the earthy scent that reminded me of Evan's cologne. As I molded my bowl, my eyes focused on the task, and I pushed harder on the pedal, allowing the wheel's speed to increase. I dipped my fingers to make an incision in the center, turning the rounded lump into something resembling a dish. I was completely in the zone, grabbing scraping tools to assist my creation as I got more comfortable with the new artisan avenue. I heard a tap at the door as someone entered the classroom, but I kept my head down, afraid to lose my concentration.

  "Class, this is Alec. He recently moved here from New York, and he will be joining us for the remainder of the year, so let's make him feel welcome," Mr. Farrel loudly declared, but everyone ignored him because most of us were elbow-deep in clay.

  The reaction to the newcomer was a silent "who cares?" since it was pretty common to have new students start during all times of the semester, as long as they could pay the price, which their parents always did. Usually, they came from New York or L.A. after a parent got transferred or promoted to a Chicago office and wanted the best for their little silver spoon. However, from our experience, the new kid's general attitude was somewhat annoyed to be stuck in our dress-coded, strictly disciplined, private school, barely tolerant of our suburban, small town life away from the big city. They tended to hang out with the rest of the "flightahoes," as we called them, meaning we hoped their turned-up noses bled from the altitude on their flights home.

  Still deep in concentration, I began adding details to my bowl, when an alarm warning ignited my senses to danger, and my stomach took a severe, nervous dip. I was aware now that after the new student was introduced, the silence in the room suddenly shifted from nonchalant to seriously taken aback, which sparked my anxiety. The artistic harmony was broken, as half of the room abruptly abandoned their projects. There was something all too familiar about the stunned silence.

  I kept my chin down as I released the pedal so the wheel stopped spinning, and casually glance sideways at Lisa who was sitting at the wheel beside mine. Immediately, I saw that she stopped working, with her hands now limp at her sides as she gawked at the new student. I smashed my bowl into a deformed lump after clenching my fists in fear, and I took a breath, trying to calm myself. But the calm never came as the earthy smell of clay disappeared and all of my senses were assa
ulted with the intoxicating power of rose water; rose water mixed with something else that made me feel like I was standing on a beach at sunset, breathing in the fresh, cool ocean air.

  I audibly gasped from the shock, slapping my wet, clay-covered hand over my mouth in an attempt to hide my way too human reaction, but I knew he heard it, and I could almost feel him from across the room, silently laughing at my pitiful attempt.

  I've only encountered one vampire who has ever smelled of sea air and rose water. I tried to slow my heart rate, but it was not easy as it thundered against my ribs, threatening to bust its way out and make a run for it. I kept my hand over my mouth, biting down a scream as I finally dragged my eyes up from the wheel. His steely blues locked onto mine like he was waiting patiently to meet my gaze, and he gave me a lopsided grin, visibly amused by my total and utter shock.

  Every girl in the room was swooning and thanking the heavens for bringing us this ungodly gorgeous being to our school, who looked like he just stepped out of the ocean to proclaim he was the long lost king of Atlantis. But the Poseidon I saw before me was no God. To me, he was the brazen stranger who approached me over a year ago, handing me the maroon token that bore our mark. To me, he was the member that introduced me to the depths of hell, otherwise known as The Basement. He aimed his watery blue gaze solely in my direction, with such an intensity that my heart leapt into my throat and was now pounding so uncontrollably, there was no way I could restrain it. I knew he could hear it too, when his smile turned from amused into something else, something predatory.

  I felt like a helpless little dove, trapped in a windowless room with a vulture out for blood - my blood. I shot up from my seat in a panic and in doing so, accidentally slammed my foot down on the pedal, which began turning the wheel at the speed of a tornado. The jolt of centrifugal force sent my hunk of clay flying off the wheel. Then everything happened in slow motion. The baseball mass of dense, wet mud sailed through the air like I just hit a homerun. As it spun, it splattered gray droplets on everyone in its path. But this wasn't a baseball field, and it couldn't be knocked out of the park. The lump of clay sounded like the pop of a goo-filled balloon when it smashed right into Harper's chest, exploding all over her Helmut Lang.

  "Daniiiii!" Harper screamed in a long, endless shrill that pierced my eardrums, and restarted the time continuum. In a blur, the room came to life again, as everyone buzzed around her, attempting to clean up the clay-soaked prom queen. Harper frantically dipped the towel she was bringing to me in the water cup, rubbing at the runny clay splattered all over her. I was frozen, unflinching, too scared to even breathe or worry about her vengeful eyes, because mine were still locked on the day-walking vampire at the other side of the art room, who was, no doubt, listening to my heartbeat racing in my chest. Mr. Farrel stood in front of me with his hands on his hips, blocking my line of sight, and not appreciating the poor first impression I made on the new student. I was sure he must be shaking while trying to hold back his laughter by now.

  "You know I don't tolerate horsing around in my classroom, Dani! Go get yourself cleaned up while I write your detention slip," he stated sternly, pointing at the wet clay covering my mouth after I slapped it shut. If only I could do that to slow down my heart rate. I didn't argue with him. Any excuse to get the hell out of there was fine by me. Except the perpetrator in question was now blocking my only exit.

  Chapter 8: Nowhere to Run

  My sloppy bun fell loose and my hair was flapping wildly against my shoulders when I turned the corner. I was climbing to a speed that breached the very fine line of human capability. I pushed past the intruder at the classroom door who invaded my life with abrupt force, and made a break for it down the hall, my knees kicking up my smock as I ran, but I had no plan beyond that point. I was completely shaken and all I knew was that I feared for everyone in the confines of the building, including myself. A pair of strong hands gripped my shoulders, skidding me to a halt, as he held me tightly, dipping his mouth down to my ear.

  "Where's the fire?" he asked with a small laugh, and I could feel his heart beating against my back. I whipped around to find Evan smiling at me, and he lifted his eyebrows in curious confusion when he saw my clay-covered face.

  "What happened to you?" he asked, looking concerned now, as he brushed his thumb over my cheek, while analyzing the substance of muddy material smeared on my skin.

  "I'm a dead woman," I said, a little too panicked. My eyes were wet with tears threatening to spill over, and I wrapped my arms around his neck in a tight hug, which I felt sure would be our last, taking note of how my best friend always smelled of fresh cut grass.

  "Dani, why are you wiggin’ out?! What's going on?" Evan asked, pulling back just enough to look at me while keeping his arms firmly wrapped around my waist. He never saw me cry and the threat of my watery eyes made him very uneasy.

  What could I say? The vampire who introduced me to our secret underground world has appeared at my school only to discover my beating heart. Now, because of him, I have to leave town for good before he reports what he saw to the 7th Circle; and I've put your life in danger just because you know me. You need get out of here right now before the vampire who has, holy shit! just turned the corner, is casually leaning against the lockers right behind you and might decide you’re his next meal!

  I froze again, staring past Evan at Alec's casual stance. It reminded me of how I act right before I enter The Basement to find my targets. The lopsided grin returned to his face, and he nodded in my direction, drumming his fingers against the metal as he waited to finish our game of cat and mouse. For the first time, I was definitely feeling like the timid mouse. All I could think about was getting Evan away from him. Evan began to turn his head, following my terrified gaze, but before he saw Alec, I guided his chin back to me. I decided to break my own rule when it came to my friends, and the thought of it made my stomach sour. My eyes glowed with purple light as the Trance washed over his face.

  "I accidentally gave Harper a mud bath and I'm super screwed! Will you please go hold her hand and be the sweetheart of a boyfriend I know you can be? Maybe she'll forgive me because of all the extra attention you give her," I said urgently as I let the Trance fall away. He blinked several times before returning his eyes to me with understanding on his face. If he only knew why I was actually terrified.

  "Okay, I'll do my best, but I might get detention for abusing my hall pass," he said sweetly, suggesting a hidden agenda.

  "What do you want?" I asked hurriedly, hoping I didn't have to straight-up, order him to go with another Trance, because that's all I wanted at the moment.

  "Well, you're such a good cook, and you’re already helping with my project, so I was hoping that you could be the one to pick out the dish that 'represents me' since I don't really get what that means," he said. He tucked my hair behind my ear, trying to work his charms as if I were one of his finger-wrapped girlfriends. Lucky for him, I would have said yes to anything right now, just to get him out of here.

  "I'll figure something out. Now go be a good little boy-toy and console your girlfriend over the death of her new designer top, while I hide," I said, pushing him past me, and away from Alec. He twirled the hall pass around his finger, whistling a tune of satisfaction at having scammed his way out of his cooking project. Too bad I'll have fled the country before I could help him. I felt sorry for whoever got stuck taste-testing his inedible creation. I watched Evan turn the corner and sighed with relief, when my attention was pulled back to Alec as he clapped sarcastically at my performance.

  Before I turned to face my doom, I decided I wouldn't abandon my life without a fight. I elected to play the only card I had right now. Taking a few deep breaths, I attempted to shut out the world as I pushed the human away and began to transform.

  A power stirred in my blood as my heart slowed to a stop, my eyes lighting up with a determined, sultry fire, desperate to get this creature away from here by any means possible. My own rose water scent seep
ed strongly from my inundated pores as the vampire in me was set free, and I slowly turned, focusing in on the rugged-cut surfer, now glistening with immortal arrogance. His eyes pinched in a smile when I centered my energy on him, and my perfume billowed in his direction with the tilt of my neck. I felt my canines springing from my teeth, and I gave him the signal with a flash of my fangs. I turned on my heels while slowly looking over my shoulder in a "come hither" manner before I started walking away. I was acting as alluring as possible in this paint-covered smock, and swaying my hips like I was strutting a runway.

  I spotted the school’s closest back exit and did a quick scan of my path leading to where I knew it was deserted this time of day. Without a soul in sight, I started to run at full speed, and in three quick zips, I was standing at the steps leading down to the cement dugout of our baseball field. Alec followed me, kicking up a wave of sand. On his last stride, he dove feet first into a slide before popping back up to a standing position in one fluid motion, and landing right beside me. I gave him a glinted smile, trying to stroke his ego and look impressed as I sauntered down the cement steps, hiding us from view.

  I didn't know why he was here, or how much he knew, but I couldn't have a vampire out there with any knowledge of my human life; it was too risky. Turning this random vampire back into a human would again break my own rule, but I didn't have any choice. If I could tempt him into biting me, this would all go away; and dear God, I wanted it to go away.