Now that I knew what I was going to do, I felt heavy all over. I’ve always been like that—the thing

that bugs me most is not having a plan. “What?”

“Can I . . . I mean, do you mind if I sleep up here? If you don’t, I, um, understand. I just—”

“Yes.” The word bolted out of me. “Yes, please. Maybe I’ll be able to sleep if you’re here.”

“Okay.” Did he sound pleased? Was he just tired of sleeping on the floor? Did he have something,

well, a little more active in mind? Like another liplock? Or was he afraid I’d take it the wrong way

if he asked to sleep up here and expect a liplock?

Sometimes having a pretty active brain is no picnic. Because it starts serving up fifty different whatifs for the way anyone acts, and having to choose which one to believe revs your mental engine until it wears you completely out.

We lay there. I listened to the sound of him breathing. I think I dozed after awhile, lulled by that

steady inhale-exhale. The last thing I remember is his arm creeping around me as gray dawn came

up outside the window. He settled against me. I sighed and he froze, but then I relaxed all the way.

I finally felt safe again.

When he spoke again, it was a quiet murmur in the darkness. “Dru? Don’t leave without me.”

What could I say to that? I said the only thing I could.

“I promise.”

Jealousy

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

At lunch I scanned the cafeteria for the rest of them. Leon had been awful quiet all morning, including through forty-five minutes of Aspect Mastery, where—thank God—I wasn’t the one who had to

sit in front of the class and make the fangs pop out and retreat on command while the teacher lectured about the physiological changes. My turn wasn’t until later that week, and I hated having people staring at me while the place at the back of my throat where the bloodhunger lived woke up and

tinted everything with red.

It’s damn hard to sit still and just do it when you can smell the fluid in everyone’s veins. I guess

maybe that was the point, but I still didn’t like it. Especially when the ampoules of blood came out

and we started having to identify them according to the characteristics on the sheet. The other guys

got partners. I did each one alone, and everyone stole little glances at me while I did.

It didn’t help that it was laughably easy. Female. Male. Brunette. Blond. Wulf blood. Djamphir

blood. Each one had its own distinct smell, and the touch helped, too, telling me which was which.

It would help us track, they told us, and help us identify nosferatu.

Sometimes they prefer a particular type of prey.