“It’s an intense experience.” He says it soothingly, his thumb rubbing my cheek, but it only awakens more confused feelings, and the pressure in my groin is unbearable. “The first time a human ingests vampire blood can be overwhelming, but you’ll be okay, I promise. How’s your elbow?”

“What elbow?” I pull cold air into my lungs and carefully guide his hands off my body so I can think again, but my brain is fizzing and it won’t cooperate.

“So I guess it worked.” Jude steps back, smiling a little, and draws yet another cigarette out of that pack.

“Why do you smoke?” Frantic to change the subject, I jump at the first distraction possible. “It’s gross. And you don’t even breathe.”

“I don’t have to breathe,” he corrects me, flicking the Zippo open with a ping of metal. “But my body is capable of doing anything yours can do. Maybe someday I’ll demonstrate.”

Jude winks as he lights up, and I blush to my hairline. I can’t tell if he’s aware of what I saw, if maybe we shared that vision—or if I’m the only one who just lived the future.

Because somehow I know that what I experienced when I fell into his eyes was more than just some sort of dream. It was concrete, as real as the moment we’re living right now … it just hasn’t happened yet. And even as I struggle to make sense of that, I remember Daphne’s words: The accounts document clairvoyance, telepathy, subtle forms of mind control …

Clairvoyance. Perception of the future. But if I accept any of this, it means that someday—possibly soon—Jude and I might have relations. It’s … I don’t even know what it is. The words won’t come to me. But the wind shifts, and I smell him, a mixture of lemongrass and fresh soap, and I am embarrassingly aroused.

“I have to go!” I blurt madly, punching my coat as far down as I possibly can, as if he doesn’t know where every drop of blood in my body is at this very moment. “My bus is supposed to be here!”

It’s the least sophisticated exit line of all time, but he doesn’t give chase when I sprint past him, heading for the pathway leading to the front of school where the late bus will hopefully be waiting. Before I’m out of earshot, however, he calls after me.

“Hey, August?” His voice is musical, delighted, and I look back at him with sweat freezing at my temples. “You know, if you ever want to taste me again, all you have to do is ask.”

His cocky laughter pursues me around the corner of the building and all the way to the front entrance.