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  What was it Loren had said about me in the library? Something like me being a goddess among demigods. The way I looked right then made me think that he might be on to something. Power shivered through me, and my hair lifted from my shoulder. I swear I could feel the tattoos burning deliriously down my neck and back. Maybe Loren had been right about a lot of things—like about the two of us being star-crossed lovers. Maybe after I told Heath I couldn't see him again I should back away from Erik, too. The thought of leaving Erik made me feel a little breathless, but that was to be expected. I wasn't heartless—I really did like him. But hadn't Professor Nolan's death proved that you never knew what could happen? That life, even for vampyres, could be way too short. Maybe I should be with Loren—maybe that was the right thing to do. I kept staring at my magical reflection.

  After all, I really wasn't like other fledglings.

  That was something I should accept and stop fighting against or feeling freaky about.

  And if I wasn't like other fledglings, then wasn't it only logical that I needed to be with something special—someone other fledglings wouldn't be able to be with?

  But Erik cares about me, and I care about him, too. I'm not being fair to Erik…or to Heath…Loren is a grown man…he's supposed to be a teacher… 50 maybe we shouldn't be sneaking around together…

  I ignored the guilty thoughts that my conscience whispered to me. And silently ordered the wind and mist and concealing darkness to lift so that I could materialize fully and cover my intricate tattoos. And then, lifting my chin and straightening my back, I headed down the sidewalk to Utica Square, Starbucks, and Heath, still not one hundred percent sure about what the hell I was doing.

  I stayed on the dark side of the street where there were very few streetlights and walked slowly, trying to figure out what I would say to Heath to get him to understand he and I couldn't keep seeing each other. I'd gone less than half the distance to the square when I saw him coming toward me. Actually, I felt him first. Like an itch beneath my skin that I couldn't quite reach to scratch. Or an abstract compulsion to move forward, looking for something I knew I wanted, but didn't know how to find. And then the compulsion went from abstract to defined—from subconsciously insistent to demanding. Then I saw him. Heath. He was coming to meet me. We saw each other at the same instant. He was walking on the opposite side of the street and was right under a streetlight. I could see his eyes sparkle and his smile blaze. Instantly, he kicked into a jog and crossed the street (I noticed he didn't look either way and was glad the crappy weather was keeping traffic to a minimum—the kid could have gotten smushed by a car).

  His arms were around me and his breath tickled my ear as he hugged me. "Zoey! Oh, baby, I've really missed you!"

  I hated that my body instantly responded to him. He smelled like home—a sexy, yummy version of home—but home nonetheless. Before I could melt helplessly in his arms I pushed back from him, suddenly aware of just how dark and secluded, intimate even, it was on this shadowy sidewalk.

  "Heath, you were supposed to wait for me at Starbucks." Yeah, on their little patio sidewalk area that would be busy with caffeine-aholics and definitely not intimate.

  He shrugged and grinned. "I was, but then I felt you coming and no way could I just sit there anymore." His brown eyes sparkled adorably and his hand caressed the side of my cheek as he added, "We're Imprinted, remember? It's you and me, baby."

  I made myself take a little half step back so that he wasn't in my personal space anymore. "That's what I have to talk to you about. So let's go back to Starbucks and get a couple drinks and talk." In public. Where I wouldn't be so tempted to pull him off the sidewalk into an alley and sink my teeth in his sweet neck and…

  "Can't," he said, grinning again.

  "Can't?" I shook my head, trying to get rid of the semi-nasty (okay, it probably wasn't semi) scene that had started to play around in my (ho-ish) imagination.

  "Can't, 'cause Kayla and the bitch squad picked tonight to go to Starbucks."

  "Bitch squad?"

  "Yeah, that's what me and Josh and Travis call Kayla and Whitney and Lindsey and Chelsea and Paige."

  "Oh, ugh. Since when did Kayla start hanging around with those hateful sluts?"

  "Since you got Marked."

  Then my eyes narrowed at him. "And why would Kayla and her new friends just happen to pick this particular night to go to Starbucks? And why this Starbucks instead of the one in Broken Arrow that's way closer to where they all live?"

  Heath held up his hands like he was surrendering. "I didn't do it on purpose!"

  "Do what, Heath?" Jeesh, the kid was such a moron sometimes.

  "I didn't know they'd be coming out of the Gap just when I was pulling up in front of Starbucks. I didn't see them till after they saw me. It was too late then."

  "Well that explains their sudden desire for caffeine. I'm surprised they didn't follow you down the sidewalk." Okay, yes. I did remember that I was supposed to be breaking up with him, but it still annoyed the crap outta me to think that Kayla was sniffing around him.

  "So you don't want to see them, do you?"

  "Not no, but hell no," I said.

  "Didn't think so. Well, how about I walk you back to your school then." He stepped closer to me. "I remember when we talked on the wall a couple months ago. That was nice."

  I remembered, too. I especially remembered that had been the first time I had tasted his blood. I shivered. And then caught myself. I really needed to get a handle on this bloodlust thing. "Heath," I said firmly. "You can't go with me to my school. Haven't you been watching the news? Some idiot human killed a vampyre. Now the place is like an army camp. I had to sneak out to see you, and I can't be gone long."

  "Oh, yeah, I did hear about that." He took my hand in his. "Are you okay? Did you know the vamp that was killed?"

  "Yes, I knew her. She was my drama professor. And no, I'm not okay. That's one reason I needed to talk to you." I made up my mind. "Come on. Let's cut down this street and go to Woodward Park. We can talk there." Plus, it was a public park smack in the center of midtown Tulsa, it couldn't be too private. At least I hoped it couldn't.

  "Cool with me," Heath said happily.

  He refused to let loose of my hand, so we started down the side street joined together like we'd been since grade school. We'd only gone a few feet when his voice broke in to me trying not to think about the fact that his wrist was pressed against mine and I could feel that our pulses were beating in time with one another.

  "Zo, what happened in the tunnels?"

  I gave him a sharp, sideways glance. "What do you remember?"

  "Mostly darkness and you."

  "What do you mean?"

  "I don't remember how I got there, but I do remember teeth and red eyes that glowed." He squeezed my hand. "And I don't mean your teeth, Zo. Plus, your eyes don't glow. They shine."

  "They do?"

  "Totally. Especially when you're drinking my blood." He'd slowed down so that we were almost standing still when he lifted my hand to his lips and kissed it. "You know it feels so damn good when you drink me, don't you?"

  Heath's voice had gotten deep and husky, and his lips felt like fire against my skin. I wanted to lean into him and get lost in him and sink my teeth into him and …

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  "Heath, focus." I channeled the heat that was shimmering through my body into annoyance. "The tunnels. You're supposed to be telling me what you remember."

  "Oh, yeah." He grinned his cute, bad-boy smile. "I really don't remember much, that's why I was asking you about it. Just teeth and claws and eyes and such, and then you. It's all kinda like a bad dream. Well, except for the part about you. That part's cool. Hey, Z, did you rescue me?"

  I rolled my eyes at him and started walking again, dragging him with me. "Yes, I rescued you, dork."

  "From what?"

  "Jeesh, do you not read the papers? The story was on page two." It had been a lovely, but fictionalized artic
le where they quoted Detective Marx and his very brief and mostly untrue statement.

  "Yeah, but it didn't say much. So what really happened?"

  I chewed my lip while my mind raced. He didn't remember hardly anything about Stevie Rae and her pack of undead dead thingies. Neferet's mind block was obviously still firmly in place with him. And, I suddenly realized, it needed to stay that way. The less Heath knew about what had happened, the less chance that Neferet would give him a second thought and what would amount to a third mind screwing, which couldn't be good for him. Plus, the kid needed to get on with his life. His human life. And stop obsessing about me and vamp stuff.

  "There wasn't much more than the papers said. I dunno who the guy was, just some crazed street person. The same guy who killed Chris and Brad. I found you and used my power over the elements to get you away from him, but you were pretty messed up. He'd, uh, cut you up and stuff. That's probably why you have such weird memories, when you remember anything at all." It was my turn to shrug. "I wouldn't worry about it, or even think about it much if I were you. No big deal, really." He started to say something else, but we'd come to the rear entrance to the park and I pointed to a bench under the first big tree. "How about sitting over there?"

  "Whatever you say, Zo." He slung his arm around me and we walked to the bench.

  As we sat down I managed to slide out from under his arm and angle my body toward him so that my knees were a kind of barrier against him getting too close to me. I took a deep breath and made myself meet Heath's eyes. I can do this. I can do this.

  "Heath, you and I can't see each other again."

  His forehead wrinkled. He looked like he was trying to figure out a complex math word problem. "Why would you say something like that, Zo? Of course we can see each other again."

  "No. It's not good for you. This has to be over between us." I hurried on when he started to protest. "I know it seems hard to not see me, but that's because of our Imprint, Heath. Really. I've been reading up on it. If we don't see each other the Imprint will fade." That wasn't exactly true. The text said sometimes an Imprint will fade due to nonexposure. Well, I was counting on sometimes being this time. "It'll be okay. You'll forget about me and go back to being normal."

  As I'd been talking Heath's expression had become more and more serious and his body had gotten very still. I knew because I could feel his heartbeat, and even that had slowed. When he spoke he sounded old. Really old. Like he'd lived a thousand years and knew things I could only guess at.

  "I won't forget about you. Not even after I'm dead. And this is normal for me. Loving you is my normal."

  "You don't love me. You're just Imprinted with me," I said.

  "Bullshit!" he shouted. "Don't tell me I don't love you. I've loved you since I was nine years old. This Imprint thing is just another part of what's been going on between us since we were kids."

  "This Imprint thing has to end," I said calmly, meeting his gaze.

  "Why? I've told you it's good for me. And you know we belong together, Zo. You have to believe in us."

  His eyes pleaded with me and I felt my gut twist. He was right about so much. It had been the two of us for so long—and if I hadn't been Marked, we probably would have gone to college together and then gotten married after we graduated. We would have had kids and lived in the suburbs and gotten a dog. We would have had fights once in a while, mostly over him being too obsessed with sports, and then we would have made up when he brought me flowers and teddy bears, like he'd been doing since we were teenagers.

  But I had been Marked and my old life had died the day the new Zoey was born. The more I thought about it, the more I knew breaking up with Heath was the right thing to do. With me he could never be more than my Renfield, and sweet Heath, the love of my childhood, deserved better than that. I realized what I had to do and how I had to do it.

  "Heath, the truth is it's not as good for me as it is for you." My voice was cold and emotionless. "It's not you and me anymore. I have a boyfriend. A real boyfriend. He's like me. He's not a human. He's the one I want now." I wasn't sure if I was talking about Erik or Loren, but I was sure of the pain that clouded Heath's eyes.

  "If I have to share you, I will." His voice had dropped almost to a whisper, and he looked away from me like he was too embarrassed to meet my eyes. "I'll do whatever it takes not to lose you."

  It made something inside me break, but I laughed at Heath. "Listen to you! You sound pathetic. Do you know what vampyre men are like?"

  "No." His voice had gotten stronger and he met my eyes again. "No, I don't know what they're like. I'm sure they can do all sorts of cool stuff. They're probably big and bad and all that. But I know one thing they can't do that I can. They can't do this."

  In a motion so fast I didn't understand what he was doing until it was too late, Heath pulled a razorblade from the pocket of his jeans and slashed a long, deep line down the side of his neck. I knew right away that he hadn't hit an artery or anything like that. The cut wouldn't kill him, but it was pouring blood—hot, sweet, fresh trails of blood down his neck and shoulder. And it was Heath's blood! A scent that I'd been Imprinted to desire above all others. The sweetness of it covered me, brushing against my skin with hot insistence.

  I couldn't help myself. I leaned forward. Heath tilted his head to the side, stretching his neck so that all of the beautiful, glistening cut was exposed.

  "Make the pain go away, Zoey, for both of us. Drink from me and stop the burning before I can't stand it anymore."

  His pain. I was causing him pain. I'd read about it in the Advanced Vampyre Sociology book. It warned about the danger of Imprinting and how the blood bond can become so close that not drinking from the human can actually cause him pain.

  So I'd drink from him … just this once more…just to stop his pain …

  I leaned farther forward and rested my hand on his shoulder. By the time my tongue reached out and licked the slick line of red from his neck, my body was trembling.

  "Oh, Zoey, yes!" Heath moaned. "You're cooling it. Yes, come closer baby. Take more."

  He fisted his hand in my hair and pressed my mouth against his neck and I drank from him. His blood was an explosion. Not just in my mouth, but throughout my body. I'd read all of the whys and how-comes about the physiological reaction that takes place between a human and a vampyre when bloodlust consumes them. It was simple. Something Nyx had gifted us with so that both could feel pleasure in an act that could otherwise be brutal and deadly. But flat words on the page of a passionless textbook didn't begin to describe what was happening inside our bodies as I drank from Heath's bleeding neck. I straddled him, pressing the most private part of myself against his hardness. His hands left my hair to hold my hips and he rocked me against him rhythmically as he moaned and panted and whispered for me not to stop. And I didn't want to stop. I didn't ever want to stop. My body was burning, just as his had been. Only my pain was sweet, hot, delicious. I knew Heath was right. Erik was like me and I cared about him. Loren was a real man and powerful and incredibly mysterious. But neither of them could do this for me. Neither of them could make me feel like this … want like this… desire to take like this…

  "Yeah, bitch! Ride him! Make him hurt so gooood!"

  "That little white boy don't have nothin' for you. I'll give ya somethin' you can really feel!"

  Heath's grip on my hips changed and he was in the middle of trying to turn my body away from the jeering voices so he could shield me, but the anger that spiked through me was blinding. My fury was impossible to ignore and my response was immediate. I lifted my face from his neck. Two black guys were just a few feet away and getting closer to us. They were wearing the stereotypical ridiculous sagging pants and stupid, oversized down coats and when I bared my teeth at them and hissed, their expressions changed from sneers to shocked disbelief.

  "Get away from us or I will kill you." I snarled at them in a voice so powerful I didn't recognize it as my own.

  "She's a
fucking bloodsucker bitch!" the shorter of the two said.

  The other guy snorted. "Nah, bitch got no tattoo. But if she wants somethin' to suck, I'll give it to her."

  "Yeah, first you and then me. Her little punk boyfriend can watch and see how it's done." With a mean laugh, they started walking toward us again.

  Still straddling Heath, I lifted my one arm over my head. With the other I dragged the back of my hand across my forehead and down my face, wiping off the concealer that hid my identity. That made them stumble to a stop. Then both of my arms were over my head. It was easy to center myself. Filled with Heath's fresh blood, I felt powerful and strong and very, very pissed.

  "Wind come to me," I commanded. My hair began lifting in the breeze that swirled restlessly around me. "Blow them the hell outta here!" I flung my hands out toward the two men, letting my anger explode with my words. The wind obeyed instantly, crashing into them with such force that they were swept, yelling and cussing, off their feet and hurled away from me. I watched with a kind of detached fascination as the wind dropped the two men down in the middle of Twenty-first Street.

  I didn't even flinch when the truck hit them.

  "Zoey, what did you do!"

  I looked down at Heath. His neck was still bleeding and his face was pale, his eyes wide and shocked.

  "They were going to hurt you." Now that I'd flung the anger out of me I was feeling weird, kinda numb and confused.