Betrayed

'Give me a chance to get you back, Zo.'

I shook my head, even though his words tugged at my heart. 'No, Heath, it's impossible.'

'Why?' He slid his hand across the table and put it on top of mine. 'I don't care about the vampyre stuff. You're still Zoey. The same Zoey I've known forever. The Zoey who was the first girl I ever kissed. The Zoey who knows me better than anyone else on this earth. The Zoey I dream about every night.'

His scent drifted up to me from his hand, hot and delicious, and I could feel his pulse thumping against my fingers. I didn't want to tell him, but I had to. I looked him straight in the eyes and said, 'The reason you're not over me is because when I tasted your blood that time on the school wall I started to Imprint with you. So you want me because that's what happens when a vampyre, or apparently some fledglings, drink blood from a human victim. Neferet, our High Priestess, says that you haven't Imprinted all the way with me, and if I just stay away from you it'll fade and you'll be normal again and forget about me, so that's what I've been do­ing.' I finished in a rush. I knew he'd probably freak out and call me a monster or something, but I really hadn't had a choice, and now that he knew he could put all of this in perspective and—

His laughter interrupted my mental tirade. He'd thrown back his head and was laughing with typical Heath exuberance, and the familiar, sweet, silly sound of it made it really hard for me not to smile at him.

'What?' I said, trying to frown.

'Oh, Zo, you crack me up.' He squeezed my hand. 'I've been crazy about you since I was eight. Like that had anything to do with you sucking my blood?'

'Heath, believe me, we've started to Imprint.'

'I'm cool with that.' He grinned at me.

'Will you also be cool with me outliving you by several hun­dred years?'

Dorklike, he wagged his eyebrows at me. 'I can think of worse things than having a hot, young vampyre chic when I'm, like, fifty.'

I rolled my eyes. He was such a guy. 'Heath, it's not that simple. There're a lot of things to consider.'

His thumb traced a circular pattern over the top of my hand. 'You always did make things too complicated. There's you and me. That's all we need to consider.'

'That's not all there is, Heath.' A thought came to me and I lifted my brows and gave him a pretend-innocent smile. 'Speak­ing of, how's my ex-best friend Kayla?'

Totally unaffected, he shrugged. 'I dunno. I hardly ever see her anymore.

'Why not?' That was weird. Even if he wasn't dating Kayla, they'd hung out in the same group for years, we all had.

'It's not the same. I don't like the stuff she says.' He wouldn't look at me.

'About me?'

He nodded.

'What has she been saying?' I couldn't decide if I was more hurt or pissed.

'Just stuff.' He still wouldn't look at me.

I narrowed my eyes with realization. 'She thinks I had some­thing to do with Chris.'

He moved his shoulders restlessly. 'Not you, or at least she doesn't say you. She thinks it's vampyres, though, but so do a lot of people.'

'Do you?' I asked softly.

His eyes shot back to mine. 'No way! But something bad's happening. Someone's kidnapping football players. That's why I was here today. I'm taping up flyers with Brad's picture on them. Maybe someone will remember him being dragged away or something.'

'I'm sorry about Chris.' I laced my fingers through his. 'I know you guys were friends.'

'It sucks. I can't believe he's dead.' He swallowed hard, and I knew he was trying not to cry. 'I think Brad's dead, too.'

I thought he was, too, but I couldn't say it out loud. 'Maybe not. Maybe they'll find him.'

'Yeah, maybe. Hey, Chris's funeral is Monday. Would you go with me?'

'I can't, Heath. Do you know what would happen if a fledgling showed up at the funeral of a kid people think was killed by a vampyre?'

'I guess it would be bad.'

'Yes, it would be. And that's what I've been trying to make you see. You and me together—we'd have to deal with issues like that all the time.'

'Not when we're out of school, Zo. Then you could wear that cover-up stuff you have on your face now, and no one would even know.'

What he was saying probably should have pissed me off, but he was so serious, so sure that if I slapped a little concealer on my tattoos everything could go back to the way it was. And I couldn't be mad because I understood his wanting it. Wasn't that what I was doing there? Hadn't I been trying to relive part of my old life?

But this wasn't me anymore, and deep within me I didn't really want it to be. I liked the new Zoey, even if saying good-bye to the old Zoey wasn't only hard, it was a little sad, too.

'Heath, I don't want to cover my Mark. That wouldn't be who I am.' I drew a deep breath and continued. 'I've been Marked specially by our Goddess, and Nyx has given me some unusual powers. It would be impossible for me to pretend to be the hu­man Zoey again, even if I wanted to. And, Heath, I don't want to.'

His eyes searched my face. 'Okay. We'll do it your way and say to hell with people who don't like it.'

'That's not my way, Heath. I don't—'

'Wait, you don't have to say anything right now. Just think about it. We can meet here again in a few days.' He grinned. 'I'll even come at night.'

It was a lot harder than I'd imagined to tell Heath that I'd never see him again. Actually, I hadn't imagined that I would have to have this talk with him. I'd thought we were over. Sitting here with him now felt weird—part normal, part impossible. Which actu­ally described our relationship pretty well. I sighed and glanced down at our joined hands, and caught a look at my watch.

'Oh, shit!' I pulled my hand from his and grabbed my purse and my American Eagle bag. It was 2:15.I had to make that damn call to the FBI in fifteen minutes. 'I gotta go, Heath. I'm really late for something at school. I'll—I'll call you later.' I started to hurry away and wasn't really surprised that he came with me.

'No,' he interrupted when I started to tell him to go away. 'I'm walking you to your car.'

I didn't argue with him. I knew that tone. As goofy and exas­perating as Heath could be, his daddy had raised him right. Since third grade he'd been a gentleman, opening doors for me and carrying my schoolbooks, even when his friends called him a pussy-whipped dork. Walking me to my car was just part of what Heath did. Period.

My VW was sitting all alone under a big tree, just like when I'd parked it. As usual, he reached past me and opened my door. I couldn't help smiling at him. I mean, there was a reason I'd liked the kid for all these years—he really was sweet.

'Thanks, Heath,' I said, and slid into the driver's seat. I was go­ing to roll down the window and say bye to him, but he was al­ready moving around the car and in about two seconds he was sitting in the passenger's seat grinning at me. 'Uh, you can't come with me,' I told him. 'And I'm in a hurry, so I can't give you a ride anywhere.'

'I know. I don't need a ride. I have my truck.'

'Okay, well. Then bye. I'll call you later.'

He didn't move.

'Heath, you have to—'

'I have to show you something, Zo.'

'Can you show me quickly?' I didn't want to be mean to him, but I really had to get back to the school and make that call. Why the hell hadn't I put Damien's disposable phone in my purse? I tapped the steering wheel impatiently while Heath put his hand in his jeans pocket and felt around for something.

'There it is. I started carrying this around a couple weeks ago, just in case.' He pulled something that was about an inch long and flat out of his pocket. It was wrapped in what looked like folded cardboard.

'Heath, really. I gotta go and you ...' My words faded as the breath left my body. He'd unwrapped the little thing. The blade caught the dim light and glittered seductively. I tried to speak, but my mouth had gone dry.

'I want you to drink my blood, Zoey,' he said simply.