Blood and Chocolate (4 page)

“Who told you that?” she snapped.

“Mom said you have a date tomorrow,” Gregory answered with a sly smile.

Blast Esmé she'd told Renata. “So what?” Vivian said. “I'm going to a concert, not disemboweling him. I don't think that's going to get anyone into trouble.”

Rafe stepped closer. “We don't like our woman hanging out with meat-boys. It's unnatural.” His breath was hot on her face. “You better not choose some meat-boy over one of us.”

“Piss off,” Vivian spat, and got up. “No one tells me what to do.” She shoved Rafe away so she could pass him, catching him off guard.

“You're not Princess Wolf now,” Rafe growled behind her. “Wait too long and we'll take what we want.”

“Don't give that human anything we can't have,” Finn called after her, “or we'll give him something, too.”

As she stalked into the house, Vivian heard Ulf's high-pitched giggle.

Damn them,
she thought.

5

“You're not wearing that dress, are you?” Esmé demanded.

Vivian looked down at the slinky tank dress that sheathed her. “Yeah. Why not?”

“Don't you think it's a bit small?”

“It's supposed to fit like this.” The soft yellow dress clung to every curve as she crossed the dining room. Vivian smiled wickedly at the fleeting glimpse of her leggy reflection in the glass front of the curio cabinet. “Anyhow, it's hot out.”

“It damn well will be, with you wearing that,” Esmé said. “I don't want you giving that boy ideas—not a meat-boy.”

“And you never give anyone ideas, do you?” Vivian answered.

Esmé looked as if she was about to grow claws but instead she asked, “Where did you get that ridiculous dress?”

“Your closet, Mom.” Vivian grabbed her tiny best purse from the hall table. “I'm waiting outside.”

She swept out the door and slammed it behind her. She imagined with pleasure her mother inside, fuming. Esmé wouldn't follow her, Vivian knew. She'd pretend that Vivian hadn't bothered her in the least.

Vivian waited on the sidewalk at the edge of the lawn. What if he'd changed his mind? What if he'd decided he didn't want to go out with her after all? She glanced down the road. What did he drive?

A blue sports car tore down the street, speakers blaring nightmare tom-toms at a thousand decibels. It didn't stop. Well, that figured. She couldn't see Aiden Teague in a Corvette, somehow.

Two other cars came down the road in the next seven minutes, and each time her breath caught in her throat, but each time they drove on by.

She began to have second thoughts.
What if I can't act normal with one of them? What if he tries to kiss me and I bite him?
But she couldn't go back in the house and face Esmé's smug looks.

Finally, an oddity made a left turn from Madison and chugged along the street, a giant yellow bug that squeaked to a halt in front of her house. Aiden removed his sunglasses and smiled lazily out the window at her. She consumed the beauty of him. He sported another outrageous shirt and looked rumpled and warm, as if he had just woken up. The thought of him in bed made her flesh heat and her fears dissolve.

“Like it?” he asked, patting the side of the car.

“Like it?” she said. “I'm not even sure what it is.”

“Volkswagen Beetle,” he answered. “Circa 1972. It sends my father right up the wall—not only is it imported, but it's the sort of car ‘those damn hippies' used to drive.”

She nodded in sympathy. “I like the dragon on the door,” she said.

“Yeah, Jem did it for me.” His eyes widened. “Hey, maybe you could paint something, too. You're an artist.”

She stroked her lower lip and watched him watching her do it. “Maybe.”

He grinned. “Hop in, we'll be late.”

The curtain on her front door window dropped when she looked over.
Nosy, nosy,
she thought smirking, and walked casually around the front of the car to the passenger side.

The car smelled of banana and old plastic. There was a book called
Witchcraft for Tomorrow
on the floor. The seat groaned as it swallowed her, and her dress rode high. She wondered how she would ever get out gracefully when the time came. The look on Aiden's face as he gazed dreamily at her legs made her realize he hoped she didn't figure out how.
Touch me,
she thought.

“Are we leaving?” she asked, smoothing her hands down her thighs.

He blinked and paid attention to the wheel once more. “We've got to pick up Quince,” he said as he ground the gears and the car jerked away from the curb. He cranked up the radio and she relaxed, happy to enjoy the sweet sweat of him, the light fur of his legs, and the way he flashed her smiles like heat lightning.

Quince lived in a brick rambler near the university. Vivian had to get out so he could jam himself past the folded-down seat and into the back. She swallowed a chuckle when he actually blushed at her leggy exit, but she wished she didn't have to share Aiden with him. She listened to Aiden and Quince yelling back and forth above the rumble of the engine and the roar of the music—who was going to the concert, who wouldn't be there—and tried to picture what was in store for her this afternoon.

The parking lots at the university were packed. Aiden finally parked on a field that had been roped off into temporary aisles. He took her hand, pretending to be casual, although she could smell in his sweat that he wasn't calm; then they followed the noise of the warm-up band until they found the outdoor arena. They wound their way around the patchwork of body-strewn, multicolored blankets laid on a gently sloping lawn, down to a semicircle of tiered stone seats that faced a stage laden with a confusing melodrama of scaffolding, wires, lights, and amps.

“There's Kelly,” Quince yelled over the music, pointing to their left. “Keh-LEY!” he boomed, waving his arms above his head.

The small, dark-haired girl who'd been with Aiden at school waved back, and two other girls camped out with her on the top tier cheered. Vivian and the boys picked their way around the perimeter of the theater, trying not to step on hands or knock over bottles.

“Women!” Quince yelled, and flung himself upon the two nameless girls, biting necks and squeezing as they exploded in giggles.

“You remember Vivian, don't you?” Aiden asked Kelly.

“Yeah,” Kelly said, not bothering to look at Vivian. She wore a black T-shirt, black shorts, and low black boots. Vivian hoped she sweltered.

“Hey, man.” The hipster with the lopsided haircut she'd seen with them the other day joined them. He turned out to be Jem, the dragon artist. He doled out sodas from an oversized cooler. Aiden grabbed two Cokes and collapsed onto the stone ledge, flicking his hair back. He handed Vivian one when she sat beside him. Vivian was annoyed that Kelly was on his other side talking incessantly, so she sat close, almost touching, and let him feel her breath on his neck. His head turned, his eyes questioned, and his breath mingled for a moment with hers.

“Jeez, they suck,” a tall redhead said, climbing over the seat on Vivian's other side and nodding toward the stage. “Yo, Aiden.” He slapped Aiden's hand.

“Go home!” his pudgy sidekick yelled at the band. Some kids behind him told him to sit down, and he made a rude gesture at them with little malice attached.

Another girl, a blonde with a nose ring and a pimple on her chin, was close behind them. “Yeah, sit down, shut up, and gimme a beer,” she said.

“Christ, Bingo, you're gonna get us thrown outta here,” Jem complained. Vivian didn't know if Bingo was the girl or the pudgy guy who pulled a red-and-white can from his backpack.

“Bingo!” Aiden held out his arms to the blonde, and Vivian's eyes narrowed.

The blonde leaned over and planted a fat, sisterly kiss on his forehead. “Hiya, douchebag.”

Vivian relaxed.

Bingo noticed Vivian. “Hey, new girl.”

Vivian raised two fingers in acknowledgment and said, “Hi.” That was good enough for the blonde; she climbed into the row in front and went back to teasing Pudgy Boy.

A crashing chord filled the air, and the band onstage filed off. Some in the crowd applauded, a few whistled, but most seemed to be of the same opinion as the redhead. “Vi-sions, Vi-sions, Vi-sions,” some kids in front chanted, impatient for the next act, and others took up the call, but no new band came out. Instead, fuzzy loud rock blurted out from a nearby speaker.

“You go to Wilson?” one of the giggling girls asked.

“Yeah, she does,” answered the redheaded boy. Vivian was surprised he knew.

“Who do you hang with?” the girl asked.

“No one really,” Vivian answered.

“I've seen you with those hard-core types down by the park,” Kelly said, a sneer in her voice.

“You mean the Five,” Vivian answered, unwilling to disown them in the face of Kelly's scorn, no matter how she felt about them right now.

“Is that what they call themselves?” Kelly laughed.

“It's what my family calls them,” Vivian said. “They grew up together.”

“You're related to them?” Kelly asked, seeming shocked.

“They're cousins, sort of.”

“Ooh, they're cute,” said the other giggler. “Especially that one with the little beard.”

“Stay away from him; he bites.”

The girl giggled louder.

Two boys in baggy shorts, high-tops, and loud T-shirts showed up and slapped hands with the other boys. “This is Vivian,” Aiden said, slinking a firm arm of ownership across her shoulders in response to their covetous gazes. Vivian's toes curled with pleasure at the pride in his voice, and she glanced Kelly's way. She liked the way Aiden made her feel like a treasure others should envy him for having. If one of the Five had acted that way she'd have been annoyed, but Aiden made it seem right.

“Welcome to the Amoeba,” one of the boys said.

“The Amoeba?” she asked Aiden.

“The gang,” he said, tossing his hand to indicate all around. “My people. A large amorphous mass that keeps on changing size, hasn't much apparent use, sometimes makes you sick, and occasionally breaks off into smaller parts that act exactly like the parent.”

Behind her laughter Vivian inspected him with interest. He had a sense of pack. She liked that. In fact, despite Kelly, she liked his pack. They hadn't challenged her, they had accepted her. Get more than one of her people together nowadays and the sparks flew. This comfort was a relief.

Kelly stood up. “We're going to the bathroom.” All the meat-girls followed her obediently; she was head bitch.

“Coming?” Bingo called over her shoulder.

Vivian shook her head.
I piss when I please,
she thought.

As Aiden bantered with his friends, Vivian teased herself with his closeness. He felt good, he smelled sexy, she didn't know why she'd worried so much before. If she bit him it would be a bite he'd enjoy. Her breast lightly touched his arm and her breath skipped faster. When would he kiss her? Would she like it? She had only kissed her own kind. Could it compare?

Right after the girls filed back from the bathroom a cheer went up from the crowd and Vivian automatically looked at the stage. Six figures in motley colors pranced out, grabbing instruments and mikes. The fuzzy loudspeakers cut off midphrase and in seconds the air was laced with live music.

The tunes were light, jangly, and airy, full of love and dreams, totally different from the thumping, grinding, wrenching music the Five played loud—music to rip out guts by, Vivian called it, though she couldn't deny that it usually gave her a fierce delight. But this music was good, too. There was a sweet yearning in it. She let the music take her, so she could be one with something for a while, instead of an outsider looking in.

The sun was warm on her back and she sucked the warmth up like life. Aiden's hand slid across her neck. She turned to him and met his eyes.

“What red lips you have,” he said in her ear.

Did she dare say it? “All the better to kiss you with, my dear,” she replied.

And then their lips met.

He was gentle. She hadn't expected that. Kisses to her were a tight clutch, teeth, and tongue. His torturing hands slid down her sides and lightly caressed her back. When he flicked her lip with his tongue, she parted her mouth to invite him in. Instead, he pulled away and sighed. She was intrigued.

His eyes were shy beneath his dark lashes, and his lips curved with delight and desire—desire he wouldn't force on her. Then the crowd was on its feet, moving to the swelling music she had forgotten about, and they had to rise and be part of the world.

She looked around her at the excited faces. They were different. He was different. She realized she didn't know their rules.

Bingo danced on her seat in a swirl of shirt, the gigglers danced in the aisle, and the crowd around bobbed and waved their arms. When Aiden pulled Vivian close to sway alongside him she met his embrace, but how close was she allowed? She didn't want to scare him away but she didn't like to wait. Maybe this was all wrong.

This is the last time,
she thought.
No more dates. I can't go through this agony.

The crowd was cheering and his fingers tipped her chin. His soft lips were on hers once more, his tongue more adventurous, but his hands still tame.
It's a game,
she thought,
a game of pretend we don't want sex so badly.
Maybe he thought wanting wasn't polite.

His eyes were closed. He enjoyed her taste. His nostrils flared with the smell of her. That was good. But as her eyes began to close, too, she saw familiar figures on the hill above—the Five.

A busty girl was draped around Rafe's neck, his hand inserted halfway down the back of her shorts. Three other teased-hair dolls in jeans and skimpy tops completed their entourage. This wasn't their music—far from it; they were spying on her.