Mirage, Page 3

  I waved back. “Hey, Suzanne.” She was a telepath, but since my own telepathy only seemed to work with vampires, I had to call out to her. “How was your summer?”

  She glanced down at her watch. “Great, but we better hurry or we’ll be late.”

  With a nod, I fell into a jog beside her.

  “So glad you could join us, ladies,” Coach Gibson called out as soon as we stepped inside, just two minutes late. “I was just introducing the newest member of the boys’ varsity team, Tyler Bennett.”

  I stood on my tiptoes and saw the new guy standing there looking slightly uncomfortable. Shaggy brown hair streaked with gold fell almost to his shoulders. He looked like he belonged on the beach beside a surfboard, not here on the piste.

  “McKenna, I think you might have finally met your match,” the coach added with a smile, clapping Tyler on the shoulder. “Finally, a boys’ top seed as strong as our girls’.”

  Great. Way to start him off on the right foot, I thought. The other guys on the team looked almost mutinous.

  “Okay, grab your foils and pair up,” Coach Gibson barked. “McKenna, I want you with Bennett.” Of course he did. “We’ll start with some warm-ups.”

  “Hey,” Tyler said with an easy smile as I approached. “So you’re McKenna?”

  “Afraid so.” I nodded as I took my place beside him. “But you can call me Violet.”

  Before raising his foil, he brushed his hair out of his eyes—pale green eyes that reminded me of sea glass, particularly striking in his tanned face. I might have been in love with someone else, but I wasn’t blind. He was cute.

  And he’s the competition, I reminded myself as Coach began to call out commands.

  As soon as warm-ups were finished, we broke from the line, donned our protective masks, and turned to face our opponents. Coach moved among the pairs, his voice a muted rumble as foils began to slash through the air and feet shuffled across the rubber mats.

  “C’mon, McKenna,” Coach called out from somewhere to my right. “Be more aggressive. Show him what you’ve got.”

  Beneath my mask, sweat dripped down the side of my face, my breath coming faster now.

  “That’s it, McKenna,” came the coach’s voice. “You’ve got to move more quickly, Bennett. Anticipate her every move.”

  It was immediately obvious that we were well matched, just as Coach had said. I sharpened my focus, pushing every extraneous thought from my mind as my foil whipped toward his, my feet moving faster, my thighs beginning to feel the burn.

  Several minutes later, Coach called out the command for us to stop. I pulled off my mask and wiped my forehead with the back of one hand.

  Tyler did the same. “You’re good,” he said with a drawl that didn’t sound very California-like. “But I’m better,” he added with a smirk.

  “Oh yeah?” I challenged. Too bad he couldn’t see me in action with my stake. “We’ll see about that.”

  His mouth widened into a smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling with the effort. “I like a challenge.”

  I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. “I bet you do.”

  “Cut the chatter,” Coach Gibson barked. “I’m going to call you up in pairs. Everyone else watch, and then we’ll critique. Got it?”

  We all nodded in unison.

  “Okay, first up, McKenna and Bennett. Let’s show ’em how it’s done.”

  A half hour later, Tyler and I sat side by side on the dusty gym floor, stuffing our equipment back into our bags with matching scowls. Our technique had been deemed “sloppy” and “careless” by our teammates, which seemed a little harsh, all things considered.

  But it was par for the course, considering the competitive nature of the team. After all, fencing scholarships were plum deals, especially at top-tier universities. Everyone wanted to be the best. Attempting to rattle your competitor’s confidence was just part of the game. I assumed that Tyler had experienced the same at his previous school.

  “So, you transferred here from Summerhaven, huh?” I asked, just trying to make conversation.

  “Yeah,” he muttered, apparently not quite over the insults that had been tossed our way.

  “How’d you guys do at state?”

  “We came in second,” was all he offered.

  “Huh. And what is it that you do? You know, your gift?”

  He zipped up his bag and glanced up at me with a mischievous grin. “Yeah, I knew what you meant.”

  I shrugged. “It’s not like I care, but it is against the COPA not to tell.” The Code of Paranormal Activity basically outlined the school’s rules about using your psychic gift.

  “I’m telekinetic,” he said, reaching down to adjust the braided bracelets he wore around one wrist. There must have been a dozen of them, a rainbow of colors against his skin. “Micro,” he clarified.

  Ah, like Jack. “I’m a precog,” I offered, zipping up my bag.

  “A precog, huh? How’s that workin’ out for you?”

  “I’m still not sure,” I answered with a shrug. “So where are you from, Tyler Bennett? Because that drawl is definitely not from California.”

  “Nah, I’m from Texas. Austin. What about you? That ain’t no New Yawk accent you got there,” he teased.

  I shook my head. “Atlanta. So … Texas? That’s pretty far away. Why’d you transfer here?”

  “Why so many questions?” he countered, catching me off guard.

  I wasn’t sure if he was teasing me, or if he was serious. “Sheesh, I was just trying to be friendly. Forget it,” I said, clambering to my feet.

  “My dad died,” he said quickly, rising to stand beside me. His steady green gaze met mine, all traces of humor gone now. “And my mom wanted to move back east, to Connecticut, where she has family. So … I came east too.”

  I swallowed hard. God, I felt terrible—such a careless question. If only I’d known, I never would have prodded him like that. I knew exactly how he felt. I wanted to tell him that my dad had died too. But I didn’t. I couldn’t. “I’m sorry,” I mumbled instead.

  He shook his head, looking contrite. “No, I’m sorry. I’m such an ass. It’s just … kinda … habit, I guess.”

  “What, being an ass?”

  He winced. “Yeah, pretty much.” He glanced up at the clock on the wall. “Anyway, I better go. I’m supposed to meet with the headmistress in a few minutes.”

  “Okay. I guess I’ll see you. You know, around,” I added lamely.

  “That you will,” he said with a salute, then slung his bag over his shoulder. He took several steps toward the door, then stopped and turned back to face me. “Oh, and McKenna? There’s one more thing you should know about me,” he said, the wicked gleam back in his eye now. “You know, since we’re on the accelerated ‘getting to know you’ track and all that.”

  Again, I rolled my eyes. “I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”

  “Just this: I hate to lose.” With a wink, he turned and jogged out.

  I stood there staring at his back, shaking my head in amazement.

  Suzanne sidled up beside me. “Hey, were you two flirting?” she asked. “Because I thought you and Aidan—”

  “Trust me, we were not flirting.”

  “You sure? Because it looked an awful lot like flirting,” she insisted, her eyebrows raised quizzically.

  “Just some competitive banter. And yeah, me and Aidan …” I trailed off, glancing down at my watch.

  He was waiting.

  As soon as I stepped inside the chapel, my heart sank. I heard voices—we weren’t alone. I hadn’t expected that. This had always been our special place—mine and Aidan’s—the place we’d come to be alone, away from prying eyes. Until I’d brought my friends here to train to fight Julius, that is. Then it had become our meeting place, our group training ground.

  I loved the chapel, loved the cozy loft with the window to the sky. So many memories had been made there. But they were my memories. Our memories. Call me selfish, but I d
idn’t want to share the space, not even with my best friends. Julius was gone, the imminent threat of danger gone with him. I wanted things back the way they used to be—was that too much to ask?

  Taking a deep breath, I hurried through the vestibule and made my way into the chapel itself, anxious to see who was there, invading our space.

  Turned out it was only Jack. He and Aidan were leaning against the rearmost pew, near the wall. “I think I can work with the molecules some more, but you’re right, he’s definitely on to something,” Jack was saying.

  I took two steps toward them, my fatigued legs trembling.

  At once, they both looked over to where I stood. “Oh hey, Violet,” Jack called out, but it was Aidan’s face that my gaze sought.

  He didn’t say anything—he didn’t have to. It was there, written all over his face. If I thought my legs were weak before, they were now near total collapse. Oh, man.

  I swallowed hard, barely able to believe that he was finally there, just a few feet away from me. My gaze skimmed over him from head to toe, taking in all the details I’d pressed to memory—his face, as pale as always; his nose still slightly crooked; his golden hair tousled as if he’d just raked his fingers through it; his eyes, the one bright spot of color in his face, the same blue-gray as I remembered, not yet faded as a vampire’s were wont to do over time but darkly shadowed from ignoring his nocturnal instincts for far too long.

  He hadn’t changed, not one bit. And my heart still leapt at the sight of him.

  I realized that Jack was speaking and pried my hungry gaze away from Aidan long enough to glance his way. “Maybe tomorrow afternoon, if he has some free time,” he was saying, carrying on their conversation as if I weren’t standing there. I couldn’t help but feel slightly resentful.

  But then, Jack probably didn’t realize that this was the first time that Aidan and I had laid eyes on each other since June.

  “That sounds great,” Aidan said absently, looking past Jack, his gaze still locked on me.

  Jack, still oblivious, nodded. “Okay, I’ll check with him before football practice tonight. Anything else I should do?”

  Aidan didn’t reply.

  “Aidan?” Jack tried again. With a shrug, he followed Aidan’s gaze toward me. “I guess this is my cue to leave,” he muttered.

  Yes, go find Kate or something, I silently urged, even though he couldn’t hear me.

  “I’ll catch you later,” Aidan said as Jack strode by me, headed toward the vestibule. “Let me know what Byrne says.”

  Byrne? As in Dr. Byrne? I wondered what he had to do with whatever they were talking about. Probably something to do with their work, since Dr. Byrne was a science teacher.

  I didn’t turn to watch Jack go; I just continued to stand there looking at Aidan. Jack’s footsteps faded away and, at last, the door clanged shut.

  We were alone.

  Oh, Vi … His voice was like a sigh inside my head.

  I launched myself into his arms. That connection we shared, an electrical current that seemed to flow between us, was there in full force. He wrapped his arms around me, lifting me off my feet as he hugged me tight.

  How had I ever doubted it? How had I let myself believe that our feelings might ever change?

  “God, I’ve missed you!” I said. I breathed in his familiar scent, burying my face in his neck as his fingers tangled in my hair.

  “As I’ve missed you,” he said gruffly, sounding more like his Viscount Brompton self than my Aidan.

  He set me back on my feet, and for a moment we simply stood there. And then, inch by inch, his head bent toward mine. I rose up on my tiptoes, meeting him halfway as his lips found mine. I heard him groan as I pressed myself fully against him, every cell in my body igniting, firing at once.

  His kiss was gentle at first, almost tentative. Once, twice, his lips brushed mine, soft and featherlight, his tongue sliding across my lower lip as his hands pressed against the small of my back. I parted my lips, wanting more. Needing more.

  I must have dropped the barrier around my thoughts then, because I heard the sharp intake of his breath, felt his fingers dig into my hips as he dragged me backward, pinning me against the wall in the blink of an eye.

  His kiss was urgent now, his hands sliding up my body. I clutched at the back of his head as his mouth moved lower, toward my neck. With a sigh, he murmured my name, his teeth scraping against the sensitive skin beneath my ear where my pulse fluttered wildly.

  Do it! I cried out in my mind. I knew it was wrong, completely irrational, and yet at that moment, I wanted it more than anything—his teeth, buried in my neck.

  Mercifully, he didn’t obey my silent command. Instead he went entirely still, his body rigid and taut against mine. I knew without looking what was happening, but I opened my eyes anyway. His were squeezed shut, his jaw clenched. A vein at his temple throbbed. For several seconds he stood just like that, unmoving.

  And then, at last, he opened his eyes.

  Just as I expected, they were rimmed in red—a terrifying sight, even now. I knew that his canine teeth would be slightly elongated, as they always were when he fought against the bloodlust.

  I swallowed hard, erecting the wall around my thoughts, guarding them tightly. I was a little bit scared, and I didn’t want him to know it. It was something I’d never get used to, his transformation.

  Still, I’d wanted him to bite me. I’d asked him to bite me. He’d refused, of course, but what if he hadn’t? What if he wasn’t always stronger than me?

  “I’m sorry, Violet,” he murmured.

  Guilt washed over me. He couldn’t help what he was, and I’d been the one to push. “You didn’t do anything, Aidan.”

  “Not this time. And maybe not the next time, either. But someday …” He trailed off, leaning his forehead against mine. We stayed that way for a while, till our breathing slowed to normal.

  Finally he stepped away. “How’s your gran?” he asked, suddenly unable to meet my eyes.

  I reached for his hand, lacing my fingers through his. “She’s good. Much better. Melanie’s all settled in, and she and Lupe seem to get along, so I think it’s going to be okay.”

  “That’s great. And what about Whitney? I bet she was sad to see you go.”

  My blood ran cold. Whitney. The dream began to replay in my mind. Instinctively, I dropped his hand and took a step away from him, wanting to increase the distance between us.

  At once his brows drew together over troubled eyes. “What’s wrong?”

  “N-nothing,” I stammered, my mouth suddenly dry, my throat tight. “She’s still really mad at her parents—you know, for making her miss the summer dance program she was supposed to go to—and I just … I’m going to miss her, that’s all.”

  His eyes narrowed with suspicion; he knew me too well. “You’re sure that’s it?”

  I nodded, biting my lower lip as I did so.

  “Come here, then.” He reached for my hand, drawing me back toward him.

  I hesitated, forced to remember the way Whitney cowered in fear—or at least the way I’d seen her cower in my dream—while Aidan advanced on her with bloodlust in his eyes.

  “Violet?” Again, he tugged me toward him. Reluctantly, I let him. Releasing my hand, he cupped my face with his palms, staring down at me with troubled eyes. “About before … I had hoped I could control it better, after all this time apart.” He shook his head. “I’m so sorry, Vi. You know I don’t want to hurt you. I would never hurt you,” he corrected.

  “I know.” It was better to let him think that his vampire reaction had made me skittish than to tell him the truth—that I’d had some stupid dream about him going after Whitney. I didn’t want to examine it any further, didn’t want to risk wavering in my certainty that it was a dream, and not a vision.

  “But I heard you. In my head, willing me to bite you,” he clarified, as if I didn’t know exactly what he was talking about. “God only knows it’s hard enough …” He tra
iled off, shaking his head. “I would never forgive myself,” he said at last, his voice barely above a whisper. “You understand that, right?”

  I swallowed hard, unable to speak. But I did understand, I really did. I knew Aidan well enough to know that if he lost control and bit me, I’d lose him. He’d leave Winterhaven and never look back. Who knows where he’d go or what he’d do—but whatever it was, it wouldn’t include me.

  Finally I nodded. “How’s the work on the cure coming?” I asked, desperate to change the subject.

  His eyes brightened at once. “We’ve made a breakthrough. Some cellular changes, though they’re minor. Still, we’re definitely on the right track now.”

  I let out my breath in a rush. “Thank God. Was Jack around at all this summer to help you out?”

  He shook his head. “Not much. I’ve been working with Dr. Byrne, though. Turns out he focused his doctoral research on malaria—go figure.”

  “How much does he know?” I asked. Because it would be pretty hard to explain Aidan’s work to someone without, well … raising questions.

  “I’m pretty sure he knows a lot more than he’s letting on. It’s okay, though. I guess Mrs. Girard figures she can control the situation if need be.”

  “It’s just weird that it’s Dr. Byrne.” I shook my head, an uncomfortable feeling settling in the pit of my stomach. “Just yesterday he offered to become my new psychic coach. He has visions, like me,” I explained.

  “Yeah, I know. About the precognition, I mean. He didn’t mention anything about the coaching.” His eyes seemed to darken. “You and Dr. Hottie, huh?”

  I decided to ignore that comment. “Yeah, he said Mrs. Girard suggested it. I don’t know, I guess it’s just a coincidence.”

  “That, or Mrs. G. wants him to keep an eye on us. On what you see.” He seemed to consider it, then shrugged. “But even if that’s the case, I can’t really see any harm in it. It might even prove useful. You know, in case you have any more visions involving me.”

  And they usually did involve him.

  “Anyway,” he continued, “I have to admit he’s brilliant. Byrne, I mean. Graduated from high school at sixteen and got his PhD at twenty-four. From MIT, no less. He’s been extremely helpful, and now with Jack back on campus and the three of us working together, I’m more confident than ever. That’s what we were talking about just now, Jack and I—an idea that Dr. Byrne suggested. I think it just might work.”