Betrayed

"Yeah, maybe. Hey, Chris's funeral is Monday. Would you go with me?"

"I can't, Heath. Do you know what would happen if a fledgling showed up at the funeral of a kid people think was killed by a vampyre?"

"I guess it would be bad."

"Yes, it would be. And that's what I've been trying to make you see. You and me together—we'd have to deal with issues like that all the time."

"Not when we're out of school, Zo. Then you could wear that cover-up stuff you have on your face now, and no one would even know."

What he was saying probably should have pissed me off, but he was so serious, so sure that if I slapped a little concealer on my tattoos everything could go back to the way it was. And I couldn't be mad because I understood his wanting it. Wasn't that what I was doing there? Hadn't I been trying to relive part of my old life?

But this wasn't me anymore, and deep within me I didn't really want it to be. I liked the new Zoey, even if saying good-bye to the old Zoey wasn't only hard, it was a little sad, too.

"Heath, I don't want to cover my Mark. That wouldn't be who I am." I drew a deep breath and continued. "I've been Marked specially by our Goddess, and Nyx has given me some unusual powers. It would be impossible for me to pretend to be the hu­man Zoey again, even if I wanted to. And, Heath, I don't want to."

His eyes searched my face. "Okay. We'll do it your way and say to hell with people who don't like it."

"That's not my way, Heath. I don't—"

"Wait, you don't have to say anything right now. Just think about it. We can meet here again in a few days." He gri

It was a lot harder than I'd imagined to tell Heath that I'd never see him again. Actually, I hadn't imagined that I would have to have this talk with him. I'd thought we were over. Sitting here with him now felt weird—part normal, part impossible. Which actu­ally described our relationship pretty well. I sighed and glanced down at our joined hands, and caught a look at my watch.

"Oh, shit!" I pulled my hand from his and grabbed my purse and my American Eagle bag. It was 2:15.I had to make that damn call to the FBI in fifteen minutes. "I gotta go, Heath. I'm really late for something at school. I'll—I'll call you later." I started to hurry away and wasn't really surprised that he came with me.

"No," he interrupted when I started to tell him to go away. "I'm walking you to your car."

I didn't argue with him. I knew that tone. As goofy and exas­perating as Heath could be, his daddy had raised him right. Since third grade he'd been a gentleman, opening doors for me and carrying my schoolbooks, even when his friends called him a pussy-whipped dork. Walking me to my car was just part of what Heath did. Period.

My VW was sitting all alone under a big tree, just like when I'd parked it. As usual, he reached past me and opened my door. I couldn't help smiling at him. I mean, there was a reason I'd liked the kid for all these years—he really was sweet.

"Thanks, Heath," I said, and slid into the driver's seat. I was go­ing to roll down the window and say bye to him, but he was al­ready moving around the car and in about two seconds he was sitting in the passenger's seat gri

"I know. I don't need a ride. I have my truck."

"Okay, well. Then bye. I'll call you later."

He didn't move.

"Heath, you have to—"

"I have to show you something, Zo."

"Can you show me quickly?" I didn't want to be mean to him, but I really had to get back to the school and make that call. Why the hell hadn't I put Damien's disposable phone in my purse? I tapped the steering wheel impatiently while Heath put his hand in his jeans pocket and felt around for something.

"There it is. I started carrying this around a couple weeks ago, just in case." He pulled something that was about an inch long and flat out of his pocket. It was wrapped in what looked like folded cardboard.

"Heath, really. I gotta go and you ..." My words faded as the breath left my body. He'd unwrapped the little thing. The blade caught the dim light and glittered seductively. I tried to speak, but my mouth had gone dry.

"I want you to drink my blood, Zoey," he said simply.

A shiver of terrible longing broke over my body. I was gripping the steering wheel with both hands to keep them from shaking ... or reaching out and taking the razor blade and slicing it into his warm, sweet skin so that his delicious blood would drip and drip and…

"No!" I shouted, hating the way the power in my voice made him cringe. I swallowed and got control of myself. "Just put it away and get out of my car, Heath."

"I'm not scared, Zo."

"I am!" I almost sobbed.

"You don't have to be afraid. It's just you and me, like it's al­ways been."

"You don't know what you're doing, Heath." I couldn't even look at him. I was scared if I did I wouldn't be able to keep saying no.

"Yes I do. You drank some of my blood that night. It was … it was incredible. I haven't been able to stop thinking about it."

I wanted to scream with frustration. I hadn't been able to stop thinking about it, either, no matter how hard I tried. But I couldn't tell him that. I wouldn't tell him that. Instead, I finally looked at him and forced my hands to relax. Just thinking about drinking his blood made my skin feel tight and hot. "I want you to go, Heath. This isn't right."

"I don't care about what people think is right, Zoey. I love you.

And before I could stop him, he lifted the razor blade and drew it down the side of his neck. Fascinated, I watched a thin line of scarlet spring up against the white of his skin.

Then the smell hit me—rich and dark and seductive. Like chocolate, only sweeter and wilder. In seconds the little car was thick with it. It drew me like nothing I'd ever experienced before. It wasn't just that I wanted to taste it. I needed to taste it. I had to taste it.

I hadn't even realized that I'd moved until Heath spoke, but suddenly I was leaning across the small space between our seats as his blood drew me to him.

"Yes. I want you to do it, Zoey." Heath's voice sounded deep and rough, like he was having a hard time controlling his breathing.

"I—I want to taste it, Heath."

"I know, baby. Go ahead," he whispered.

I couldn't stop myself. My tongue flicked out and licked the blood from his neck.

CHAPTER 13

The taste exploded in my mouth. As my saliva touched the shal­low wound his blood began to flow more quickly, and with a moan that I hardly recognized as my own, I opened my mouth and pressed my lips to his skin, licking up the delicious scarlet line. I felt Heath's arms go around me as mine wrapped around his shoulders so that I could hold him more firmly against my mouth. His head fell back and I heard him groan "yes." One of his hands cupped my butt and the other one went under my sweater to squeeze my breast.

His touch only made it better. Heat slammed through my body, setting me on fire. Like someone else was in control of my movements, my hand slid from Heath's shoulder, down his chest, to rub over the hard lump that was in the front of his jeans. I sucked on his neck. Rational thought flew from my mind. All I could do was feel and taste and touch. Somewhere in the depths of my mind I knew I was reacting on a level that was almost ani­malistic in its need and ferocity, but I didn't care. I wanted Heath. I wanted him like I'd never wanted anything in my life.

"Oh, God, Zo, yes," he gasped and his hips started to thrust in time with my hand.

Someone banged on the passenger's side window. "Hey! Y'all can't make-out here!"