Betrayed

"And what about me?" Erik asked.

I looked up at him. "I care about you, too. Erik, I wish I could fix this, make all of the bad stuff go away, but I can't. And I'm not going to lie to you about Heath. I think I've Imprinted him."

I saw the surprise in Erik's eyes. "From just that one time on the wall? Z, I was there, and you hardly tasted any of his blood at all. He just doesn't want to lose you, that's why he's so obsessed. Not that I blame him," he added with a wry smile.

"I saw him again."

"Huh?"

"It was just a couple days ago. I couldn't sleep, so I went to the Starbucks at Utica Square by myself. He was there putting up posters about Brad. I hadn't meant to see him, and if I'd known he was going to be there I wouldn't have gone. I promise you that, Erik."

"But you did see him."

I nodded.

"And you fed from him?"

"It—it just kinda happened. I tried not to, but he cut himself. On purpose. And I couldn't stop myself." I kept my gaze squarely on his, asking him with my eyes to understand. Now that I was actually confronted with the very likely possibility that Erik and I were going to break up, I realized how much I didn't want that to happen, which definitely didn't help my confusion or my stress level because I did still care about Heath. "I'm sorry, Erik. I didn't ask for it to happen, but it did, and now there's this thing between Heath and me, and I'm not sure what I'm going to do about it."

He sighed deeply and brushed some snow off my hair. "Okay, well, there's a thing between you and me, too. And someday, if we make it through this damn Change, we'll be alike. I won't turn into a wrinkled old man and die decades before you will. Being with me won't be something other vampyres will whisper about, and humans will hate you for. It'll be normal. It'll be right." Then his hand was behind my neck and he was pulling me to him. He kissed me hard. He tasted cold and sweet. My arms went up around his shoulders and I kissed him back. At first I just wanted to make the hurt I was causing him go away. Then our kiss deep­ened, and we pressed our bodies together. I wasn't overwhelmed with blinding bloodlust for him, like what happened when I was with Heath, but I liked the way kissing Erik made me feel, all kinda warm and light-headed. Hell, the bottom line was that I liked him. A lot. Plus, he had a point. He and I would be right to­gether. Heath and I would not.

The kiss ended with both of us breathing hard. I cupped Erik's cheek in my hand. "I really am sorry."

Erik turned his head and kissed my palm. "We'll figure this out."

"I hope so," I whispered, more to myself than him. Then I stepped away from him and put my hand on the old iron doorknob. "Thanks for walking me here. I don't know when I'll be back. You shouldn't wait for me." I started to open the door.

"Z, if you really did Imprint with Heath you might be able to find him," Erik said. I paused and turned back to Erik. He looked strained and unhappy, but he didn't hesitate to explain. "While you're brushing the mare, think about Heath. Call to him. If he's able to, he'll come to you. If he's not and your Imprint is strong enough, you may be able to get an idea of where he is."

"Thank you, Erik."

He smiled, but he didn't look happy. "Later, Z." He walked away and the snow swallowed him.

The warm hay smell mixed with clean, dry horse contrasted dramatically with the cold, snowy outside. The stables were dimly lit by only a couple of soft gaslights. The horses were making sleepy, chewing noises. Some of them were blowing through their noses, which sounded a little like snoring. I looked around for Lenobia while I brushed the snow from my shirt and hair and started toward the tack room, but it was pretty obvious that except for the horses I was alone.

Good. I needed to think, and not explain what I was doing here in the middle of a snowstorm in the middle of the night.

Okay, I'd told Erik the truth about Heath and he hadn't broken up with me. Of course, depending on what happened with Heath, he might still dump me. How did those ho-ish girls go out with a dozen or so guys at the same time? Two was exhausting. Memory of Loren's sexy smile and incredible voice flashed through my guilt-filled mind. I chewed my lip as I grabbed a curry brush and a mane comb. Actually, I'd been kinda sorta seeing three guys, which was utterly insane. I decided then and there that I had enough problems without adding the weird flirting that may or may not be going on between Loren and me into the mix. Just thinking about Erik finding out that I'd shown all that skin to Loren ... I shuddered. It made me want to dump myself. From now on I'd avoid Loren, and if I couldn't avoid him I'd treat him like any other teacher, which meant no flirting. Now if I could just figure out what to do with Erik and Heath.

I opened Persephone's stall and told her what a pretty, sweet girl she was as she gave me a sleepily surprised snort and lipped my face after I kissed her soft nose. She sighed and rested on three feet when I started brushing her.

Okay, no way I could figure out anything about dating Erik and Heath until Heath was safe. (I refused to consider that he might never be safe—might never be found alive.) I began to quiet the babble and clutter and confusion that was my mind. Truthfully, I hadn't needed Erik to tell me that I might be able to find Heath. That possibility was one of the many things that had been making me so restless all night. The cowardly truth was that I was afraid—afraid of what I might find and what I might not find, and afraid I wouldn't be strong enough to deal with either. Stevie Rae's death had left me broken, and I wasn't sure I was up to saving anybody.

But it wasn't like I had any choice.

So ... thinking of Heath ... I started by remembering what a cute kid he'd been in grade school. In third grade his hair had been lots blonder than it was now, and he'd had like a zillion cowlicks. It used to stand up all over his head like duck fluff. Third grade was when he'd first told me that he loved me and was go

Okay, so he could still be a

Then I thought about the last time I'd seen him. He'd been so sure that we belonged together and so unafraid of me that he'd cut himself and offered his blood to me. I closed my eyes and leaned against Persephone's soft flank, thinking of Heath and let­ting the memories of him drift past my closed lids like a movie screen. Then the images of our past changed and I got a vague sense of darkness and dampness and cold—and fear slammed into my gut. I gasped, keeping my eyes tightly closed. I wanted to focus in on him, like I had that one other time when somehow I'd seen him in his bedroom, but this co

Aloud, as well as with everything inside of me, I said, "Heath, come to me. I'm calling you, Heath. I want you to come to me now. Wherever you are, get out of there and come to me!"

Nothing. There was no answer. No response. No sense of any­thing more than damp, cold fear. I called again. "Heath! Come to me!" This time I felt a surge of frustration, followed by despair. But I didn't get an image of him. I knew he couldn't come to me, but I didn't know where he was.