Jessica's Guide to Dating on the Dark Side by Beth Fantaskey Page B

the dishrag into the sink. Any small warmth I'd felt toward Lucius vanished. I felt angry, suddenly. "And don't call me by that name!"
     
    "Oh, Jessica. I didn't mean to upset you," he said, setting the container on the counter. His voice softened. "I was only trying to—"
     
    "I know what you're trying to do," I said. "You try every day."
     
    We had squared off, facing each other. Lucius started to reach out to me, then apparently thought the better of it. His hand fell to his side.
     
    "Look, we need to have a serious talk," I said. "About this whole 'pact' thing. This whole courtship.'"
     
    Lucius paused, considering this. And then, to my surprise, he agreed. "Yes. I suppose we should."
     
    "Now."
     
    "No," he said, reaching for the fake ice cream again. "Tomorrow night. In my apartment. I have something to show you.
     
    "What?"
     
    "I prefer surprises. Another of life's greatest pleasures. Most of the time. Well, some of the time."
     
    I didn't like the sound of a surprise. I'd had enough surprises lately. But I agreed anyhow. I didn't care if Lucius presented me with the deed to his castle, a herd of sheep—or whatever they used for dowries in Romania—and a diamond ring. I was going to persuade him once and for all that our "engagement" was off.
     
    "I'll see you tomorrow night," I said, wiping down the countertop. "And wash out your dish when you're done."
     
    "Good night, Jessica."
     
    I knew I'd find that bowl in the sink at breakfast.
     
    --------------------------------------
    Later that night I drifted off to sleep thinking about my mom's assertion that disgust could turn to lust. Surely that didn't happen, did it? Nobody believed in alchemy anymore. You couldn't create gold from rocks or lead.
     
    But as I slept, I had a dream about Lucius. We were standing in my parents' kitchen, and he held that spoon up to my face. Only it wasn't full of frozen tofu anymore. It was smothered with the richest, most decadent chocolate sauce imaginable.
     
    "Eat it," Lucius urged, lightly pressing the spoon against my lips. "Chocolate is one of life's greatest pleasures." His black eyes gleamed. "One of them, at least."
     
    I wanted to protest. I'm too fat. . . too fat. . . . But he kept holding out that spoon, and the chocolate, starting to drip, was too tempting for any mortal to resist, and in the end, I ate it all. It was like silk on my tongue. I swore I could taste it in my sleep. I clasped and clung to Lucius's hand, steadying it and closing my eyes as I finished the last of the imagined sweet elixir. When I was done, and I opened my eyes again, the spoon had disappeared, as things do in dreams, and it was just me and Lucius, my fingers entwined in his, my soft chest—my curves—pressed against his hard frame.
     
    He smiled at me, revealing those amazing, surreally white teeth. "You didn't regret that, did you?" he asked, and started to nuzzle my neck. My throat. "It was perfect, wasn't it?" he whispered in my ear. Then Lucius wrapped his powerful arms completely around me, embracing me, engulfing me . . .
     
    And I woke up, flat on my back.
     
    It was dawn, and the sunlight was streaming in my windows. I was breathing hard. Wow.
     
    I rolled to my side, curling up, and was reclaiming reality when the sunlight glinted off something shiny on the floor near my closed door. A silver bookmark, poking out of a book. A thin volume.
     
    The book hadn't been there when I'd gone to sleep. Someone had obviously slipped it under the door.
     
    Crawling out from under the covers, I picked it up, turning it over to read the title: Growing Up Undead: A Teen Vampire's Guide to Dating, Health, and Emotions. The top of the bookmark was engraved with an lv, in bold script.
     
    Oh, god, no. The guide Lucius had referenced on the first day we'd met. I vaguely recalled him mentioning it—right after he'd announced his plans to bite me.
     
    I sank to the floor, staring at the unwanted gift.
     
    Then, against my