here. It sure would make high school more fun if I could let myself go and actually date some of these hotties I’m here to protect, but I can’t seem to unplug those thoughts of the future.
Alice? There is nothing but today for Alice. This moment, this school, this guy or that guy or that one over there. That’s as far as she thinks.
I envy her attitude, and I pity her too.
Who knows where she is at five on a Tuesday morning? Lying on some guy’s bed or couch or floor. Waking in a strange room, wondering where she is, taking that long, sad walk of shame to our dorm.
No, thanks. Not for me. I’d rather roll out of my own bed, thank you very much, hit the alarm before it disturbs Cara, and be out here on my own, free of all my dread and responsibilities.
So, yeah, it’s just me out here in the dark, but frankly that’s the way I like it. Being a Sister is awesome, and I wouldn’t trade it for the world, but even a Sister gets tired of her own Sisters, you know?
Dawn’s bluish-orange stillness approaches. All is blissfully, Sister-free quiet.
Until … until I hear strong breathing behind me, the scent of a young, hungry male (aren’t they all?) heavy on the crisp morning air.
I don’t turn, because I’ve already done enough lame things in my first twenty-four hours here. I just slow my pace to near human levels and glide— make that coast—through another half lap before the steady breathing draws ever closer.
Rounding the curve onto my sixth lap, I’m looser than ever, skin glowing, if not exactly sweating, when a large presence looms to my left, on the inside edge of the track.
“Imagine meeting you here, Lily,” a deep, languid voice says.
“Likewise, Tristan.” I run a little faster just to liven things up a tad. As I suspected, he keeps perfect pace with me, not even slowing when he slicks his hair behind each ear.
When I see no one tailing us, I ask, “Where’s your better half this morning?”
He doesn’t answer but picks up speed, nudging past me.
I watch the back of his snug track pants and pick up the pace.
“Getting her beauty sleep, of course.”
“Of course.”
He remains steady at my side. “Not that we’re exclusive,” he says casually, as if he’s mentioning the weather.
“Really?” I say, purposely sounding surprised. “She sure seems to think so.”
”Bianca?” he says idly, finally glancing over with those deep, dark chocolate eyes. He smirks. “You must not know her very well then.”
“True, but she sure looked possessive in the hall yesterday.”
He shrugs his broad shoulders. “Let’s just say Bianca is all about appearances.” We run a while longer before he says, “No doubt she clung protectively to many of her suitors throughout the day.”
“Reeeeally? And how many suitors does she have?”
He grins. “Like I said, you don’t know her very well.”
Half a lap later, I ask, “Well, how well do you know her?” I try to say it like I’m only mildly inquisitive rather than downright curious—which I am only in a professional capacity, of course.
“My, my.” He nudges me. “It is a bit early to get so personal, don’t you think?”
I shake my head. “What I mean to say is, how long have you known Bianca?”
“Ah, that is more like it. Well, I would like to think we have known each other forever, but I transferred here only earlier this semester, so …”
He says more, but I don’t hear it. The deep, dark eyes, the pale complexion, the superhuman speed, the stilted, almost foreign accent and he just transferred here? I try not to get too excited. Rarely do I spot the Vamplayer on the second day. And, truth be told, one of the other Sisters usually spots him first.
Contrary to popular belief, vampires can’t see one another until we choose to reveal ourselves. Mortals seem to think we can see right through each other’s skin to the nonbeating heart, the flaccid lungs, the fangs wedged high in our gum lines, but in fact
Alice? There is nothing but today for Alice. This moment, this school, this guy or that guy or that one over there. That’s as far as she thinks.
I envy her attitude, and I pity her too.
Who knows where she is at five on a Tuesday morning? Lying on some guy’s bed or couch or floor. Waking in a strange room, wondering where she is, taking that long, sad walk of shame to our dorm.
No, thanks. Not for me. I’d rather roll out of my own bed, thank you very much, hit the alarm before it disturbs Cara, and be out here on my own, free of all my dread and responsibilities.
So, yeah, it’s just me out here in the dark, but frankly that’s the way I like it. Being a Sister is awesome, and I wouldn’t trade it for the world, but even a Sister gets tired of her own Sisters, you know?
Dawn’s bluish-orange stillness approaches. All is blissfully, Sister-free quiet.
Until … until I hear strong breathing behind me, the scent of a young, hungry male (aren’t they all?) heavy on the crisp morning air.
I don’t turn, because I’ve already done enough lame things in my first twenty-four hours here. I just slow my pace to near human levels and glide— make that coast—through another half lap before the steady breathing draws ever closer.
Rounding the curve onto my sixth lap, I’m looser than ever, skin glowing, if not exactly sweating, when a large presence looms to my left, on the inside edge of the track.
“Imagine meeting you here, Lily,” a deep, languid voice says.
“Likewise, Tristan.” I run a little faster just to liven things up a tad. As I suspected, he keeps perfect pace with me, not even slowing when he slicks his hair behind each ear.
When I see no one tailing us, I ask, “Where’s your better half this morning?”
He doesn’t answer but picks up speed, nudging past me.
I watch the back of his snug track pants and pick up the pace.
“Getting her beauty sleep, of course.”
“Of course.”
He remains steady at my side. “Not that we’re exclusive,” he says casually, as if he’s mentioning the weather.
“Really?” I say, purposely sounding surprised. “She sure seems to think so.”
”Bianca?” he says idly, finally glancing over with those deep, dark chocolate eyes. He smirks. “You must not know her very well then.”
“True, but she sure looked possessive in the hall yesterday.”
He shrugs his broad shoulders. “Let’s just say Bianca is all about appearances.” We run a while longer before he says, “No doubt she clung protectively to many of her suitors throughout the day.”
“Reeeeally? And how many suitors does she have?”
He grins. “Like I said, you don’t know her very well.”
Half a lap later, I ask, “Well, how well do you know her?” I try to say it like I’m only mildly inquisitive rather than downright curious—which I am only in a professional capacity, of course.
“My, my.” He nudges me. “It is a bit early to get so personal, don’t you think?”
I shake my head. “What I mean to say is, how long have you known Bianca?”
“Ah, that is more like it. Well, I would like to think we have known each other forever, but I transferred here only earlier this semester, so …”
He says more, but I don’t hear it. The deep, dark eyes, the pale complexion, the superhuman speed, the stilted, almost foreign accent and he just transferred here? I try not to get too excited. Rarely do I spot the Vamplayer on the second day. And, truth be told, one of the other Sisters usually spots him first.
Contrary to popular belief, vampires can’t see one another until we choose to reveal ourselves. Mortals seem to think we can see right through each other’s skin to the nonbeating heart, the flaccid lungs, the fangs wedged high in our gum lines, but in fact
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