Betrayed

kids instead? The room was dark, but that didn't matter. I'd only been Marked one month, but already I saw just as well with the lights off as with them on. Actually, better. Bright lights hurt my eyes—sunlight was almost unbearable.

I hesitated as I opened my locker, realizing that I hadn't seen the sun in almost a month. I hadn't even thought about it till now. Huh. Weird.

I was considering the bizarreness of my new life when I no­ticed the piece of paper that had been taped to the inside shelf of my locker. It fluttered in the temporary breeze I'd created by opening the door. My hand lifted to calm it, and I felt a jolt of shock when I realized what it was.

Poetry.

Or, more accurately, a poem. It was short and written in a bold, attractive cursive. I read it and reread it, registering specifi­cally what it was. Haiku.

Ancient Queen awake

A chrysalis not yet formed

Will your wings unfold?

I let my fingers brush the words. I knew who had written it. There was only one logical answer. My heart squeezed as I whis­pered his name, 'Loren ...'

'I'm serious, Stevie Rae. If I tell you, you have to swear you won't say anything to anyone. And when I say anyone I especially mean Damien and the Twins.'

'Dang, Zoey, you can trust me. I said I swear. What do you want me to do, open a vein?'

I didn't say anything.

'Zoey, you really can trust me. Promise.'

I studied my best friend's face. I needed to talk to someone—someone who was not a vamp. I searched inside myself, to the core of what Neferet would call my intuition. It felt right to con­fide in Stevie Rae. It felt safe.

'Sorry. I know I can trust you. I'm just … I don't know.' I shook my head, frustrated by my own confusion. 'Okay, weird stuff has happened today.'

'You mean more than the normal weirdness that goes on around here?'

'Yeah. Loren Blake came into the library today while I was there. He was the first person I talked to about the Prefect Coun­cil idea and my new ideas for the Dark Daughters.'

'Loren Blake? As in the most gorgeous vamp any of us have ever seen? ness . I better sit down.' Stevie Rae col­lapsed on her bed.

'That's who I mean.'

'I can't believe you haven't said anything about this until now. You must have been dying.'

'Well, that's not all. He … uh ... touched me. And more than once. Okay, actually I saw him more than once today. Alone. And I think he wrote me a poem.'

'What!'

'Yeah, at first I was sure it was perfectly innocent and I was imagining anything else. In the library we just talked about the ideas I had for the Dark Daughters. I didn't think it meant any­thing. But, well, he touched my Mark.'

'Which one?' Stevie Rae asked. Her eyes were huge and round and she looked like she was going to explode.

'The one on my face. That time.'

'What do you mean that time!'

'Well, after I got done with brushing Persephone I wasn't in any hurry to get back to the dorm. So I went for a walk over by the west wall. Loren was there.'

'Ohmydearsweetlord. What happened?'

'I think we flirted.'

'You think!'

'We were laughing and smiling at each other.'

'Sounds like flirting to me. God, he is so totally gorgeous.'

'Tell me about it. When he smiles at me I can hardly breathe. And get this—he recited a poem to me,' I said. 'It was a haiku a man wrote about looking at his naked lover in the moonlight.'

'You have got to be kidding!' Stevie Rae started fanning herself with her hand. 'Get to the touching part.'

I took a deep breath. 'It was really confusing. Everything was going really well. Like I said, we were laughing and talking. Then he said he was out there by himself because that's how he gets in­spired to write haiku—'

'Which is insanely romantic!'

I nodded and continued. 'I know. Anyway, I told him I hadn't meant to mess up his inspiration and bother him, and he said that more things inspired him than just the night. And he asked me if I'd be his inspiration.'

'Holy shit.'

'Exactly what I thought.'

'Naturally you said you'd be happy to inspire him.'

'Naturally,' I said.

'And ...' Stevie Rae prompted eagerly.

'And he asked to see my Mark. The one on my shoulders and back.'

'He did not.'

'He did.'

'Man, I would have peeled off my shirt faster than you can say Bubba loves trucks!'

I laughed. 'Well, I didn't take my shirt off, but I slid my jacket down. Actually, he helped me.'

'Are you telling me Loren Blake, Vampyre Poet Laureate and hottest f-ing male on two feet, helped you off with your jacket like an old-time gentleman?'

'Yeah. Like this.' I demonstrated by pushing my jacket down around my elbows. 'And then I don't exactly know what came over me, but all of a sudden I wasn't all nervous and stupid-acting. I took the strap of my tank off for him. Like this.' I pushed my tank strap down, exposing my back and shoulder and a good part of my breast (relieved all over again that I had on my good black bra). 'That's when he touched me. Again.'

'Where?'

'He traced the pattern of my Mark on my back and shoulder. He told me that I look like an ancient vampyre queen and recited the poem to me.'

'Holy shit,' Stevie Rae said again.

I plopped down on my bed facing her and sighed, pulling the strap of my tank back up. 'Yeah, it was amazing for a little while. I was sure we connected. Really connected. I think he almost kissed me. Actually, I know he wanted to. And then, out of nowhere, he changed. He got all polite and formal and thanked me for showing him my Mark and then he walked away.'

'Well, that's no big surprise.'

'It sure as hell was to me. I mean, one second he was staring into my eyes and sending major signals that he wanted me and the next—nothing.'

'Zoey, you're a student. He's a teacher. This is a vamp school and a whole different world from life at a normal high school, but some things don't change. Students are off-limits to teachers.'

I chewed at my lip. 'He's only a part-time, temporary teacher.'

Stevie Rae rolled her eyes. 'As if that matters.'

'That's not all that happened. I just found this poem in my locker.' I handed her the piece of paper with the haiku on it.

Stevie Rae sucked air. 'Ohmygoodness. This is so romantic I could die. How? How did he touch the Mark on your back?'

'Jeesh, how do you think? With his finger. He traced the pat­tern.' I swear I could still feel the heat of that touch.

'He recited a love poem to you, touched your Mark, and then wrote a poem for you …' She sighed dreamily. 'It's like you're Romeo and Juliet with the whole forbidden lovers thing.' In the middle of fanning herself dramatically