“Well, go to class and check him out. Maybe you can help him.”
“Okay, Xavier, but I already have a conscience and it gives me enough of a hard time. I don’t need another one.”
“Love you too, Beth.”
When I looked back on this day later, I would remember the rain and Xavier’s face. That change in the weather also marked a change in our lives; one that none of us could have seen coming. My life on earth up till then had been filled with minor drama and the angst of youth, but I was about to learn that these troubles had been child’s play compared with what found us next. I suppose it served to teach us a lot about what was important in life. I don’t think we could have avoided it; it was part of our story from the very beginning. After all, things had been running relatively smoothly; we were bound to hit a bump. We just didn’t expect it to hit so hard.
The bump came all the way from England and had a name: Jake Thorn.
18
Dark Prince
Even though it was my most interesting class by a long shot, I wasn’t in the mood for lit. I wanted to spend more time with Xavier; to be separated from him always gave me physical pain, like a cramp in my chest. When we got to the classroom, I tightened my grip on his fingers and pulled him toward me. No matter how much time we spent together, it never seemed to be enough — I always wanted more. When it came to him, I had a ravenous appetite that could never be satisfied.
“It won’t matter if I’m just a few minutes late,” I wheedled.
“Nope,” Xavier said, prying away my fingers that were now clutching his shirtsleeve. “You’re going to be on time.”
“You’ve turned into such a grandma,” I grumbled. He ignored my comment and deposited my books into my arms. These days, he rarely allowed me to carry anything for longer than was necessary. I must have looked so lazy to everyone else, always walking around with Xavier by my side, dutifully carrying my belongings.
“You know, I can carry my own stuff, Xav, I’m not an invalid,” I said.
“I know,” he replied, flashing his adorable half-smile. “But I enjoy being at your disposal.”
Before he could stop me, I locked my arms around his neck and pulled him into an alcove between the lockers. It was his own fault really, standing there with his soft hair flopping over his eyes, his school shirt coming untucked, and the plaited leather band hugging his smooth tanned wrist as if it were a part of him. If he didn’t want to be mauled, he shouldn’t have put himself right in my path.
Xavier dropped his own books and kissed me back forcefully, his hands holding my neck, his body pressed close against mine. The few students hurrying by to classes stared openly at us.
“Get a room,” someone sniped, but I ignored them. For that moment space and time didn’t exist — there was only the two of us in our own personal dimension, and I couldn’t remember where I was or even who I was. I couldn’t distinguish where my being stopped and his began. It made me think of a line from
Then he broke away.
“You are very bad, Miss Church,” he said, breathing heavily, a smile playing around his lips. He put on a genteel voice. “And I am powerless when it comes to your charms. Now I believe we are
Luckily for me, Miss Castle wasn’t the sort of teacher to be bothered about punctuality. She handed me a folder as I came in and took a seat at the front of the room.
“Hello, Beth,” she said. “We’re just discussing the introduction to third quarter. I’ve decided to allocate you all a creative writing task to be done with a partner. Together you’ll need to come up with a poem to read to the class on the subject of love, to preface our upcoming study of the great Romantic poets Wordsworth, Shelley, Keats, and Byron. Does anyone have a favorite poem they’d like to share before we start?”
“I do,” said a well-spoken voice from the back of the room. I scanned the faces to identify the speaker who had a distinct English accent. An awed silence fell over the rest of the class. It was the newcomer. Brave of him, I thought, to go out on a limb on his first day. Either that or he was enormously conceited.
“Thank you, Jake!” Miss Castle said enthusiastically. “Would you like to come up here to recite it?”
“Certainly.”
The boy that sauntered to the front of the room was not what I had expected. Something about his appearance made my heart plunge into my stomach. He was tall and lean, and his straight dark hair reached his shoulders. His cheekbones were sharp, giving him a gaunt, hollow look. His nose drooped slightly at the tip, and his brilliant jade-green eyes gazed out from beneath low-set brows. His lips curled in a permanent sneer. It made him look intolerant of his surroundings.
He was dressed in black jeans and a black T-shirt, and a dark tattoo of a serpent wound around his forearm. He was totally unselfconscious about not being in school uniform on his first day. In fact, he had the confident swagger of someone who considers himself above the rules. There was no denying it — he was beautiful. But there was something about him that suggested more than beauty. Was it grace, poise, charm, or something more dangerous?
Jake’s smoldering gaze swept across the classroom. Before I could duck my head, his eyes locked with mine and lingered there. He gave a self-assured smile before beginning.
“ ‘Annabel Lee,’ a ballad by Edgar Allan Poe,” he announced smoothly. “It might interest you to know that Poe married his thirteen-year-old cousin, Virginia, when he was twenty-seven. She died two years later from TB.”
The class stared at him entranced. When he began to speak, his voice seemed to flow out like rich syrup and filled the room. It was the cultured, confident voice of someone used to having things his own way.
I
