Because she’s right—my head is aching and my chest still feels tight—I just nod and plop down in the closest chair. I’m beyond tired and want nothing more than to lean my head back against the chair and close my eyes for a minute. But I’m afraid I’ll fall asleep if I do. And no way am I running the risk of being the girl caught drooling all over herself in the hallway on her very first day…or ever, for that matter.
More to keep myself from drifting off than out of actual interest, I pick up one of the chess pieces in front of me. It’s made of intricately carved stone, and my eyes widen as I realize what I’m looking at. A perfect rendition of a vampire, right down to the black cape, frightening snarl, and bared fangs. It matches the Gothic castle vibe so well that I can’t help being amused. Plus, it’s gorgeously crafted.
Intrigued now, I reach for a piece from the other side. And nearly laugh out loud when I realize it’s a dragon—fierce, regal, with giant wings. It’s absolutely beautiful.
The whole set is.
I put the piece down only to pick up another dragon. This one is less fierce, but with its sleepy eyes and folded wings, it’s even more intricate. I look it over carefully, fascinated with the level of detail in the piece—everything from the perfect points on the wings to the careful curl of each talon reflects just how much care the artist put into the piece. I’ve never been a chess girl, but this set just might change my mind about the game.
When I put down this dragon piece, I go to the other side of the board and pick up the vampire queen. She’s beautiful, with long, flowing hair and an elaborately decorated cape.
“I’d be careful with that one if I were you. She’s got a nasty bite.” The words are low and rumbly and so close that I nearly fall out of my chair. Instead, I jump up, plopping the chess piece down with a clatter, then whirl around—heart pounding—only to find myself face-to-face with the most intimidating guy I’ve ever seen. And not just because he’s hot…although he’s definitely that.
Still, there’s something more to him, something different and powerful and overwhelming, though I don’t have a clue what it is. I mean, sure. He has the kind of face nineteenth-century poets loved to write about—too intense to be beautiful and too striking to be anything else.
Skyscraper cheekbones.
Full red lips.
A jaw so sharp it could cut stone.
Smooth, alabaster skin.
And his eyes…a bottomless obsidian that see everything and show nothing, surrounded by the longest, most obscene lashes I’ve ever seen.
And even worse, those all-knowing eyes are laser-focused on me right now, and I’m suddenly terrified that he can see all the things I’ve worked so hard and so long to hide. I try to duck my head, try to yank my gaze from his, but I can’t. I’m trapped by his stare, hypnotized by the sheer magnetism rolling off him in waves.
I swallow hard to catch my breath.
It doesn’t work.
And now he’s grinning, one corner of his mouth turning up in a crooked little smile that I feel in every single cell. Which only makes it worse, because that smirk says he knows exactly what kind of effect he’s having on me. And, worse, that he’s enjoying it.
Annoyance flashes through me at the realization, melting the numbness that’s surrounded me since my parents’ deaths. Waking me from the stupor that’s the only thing that’s kept me from screaming all day, every day, at the unfairness of it all. At the pain and horror and helplessness that have taken over my whole life.
It’s not a good feeling. And the fact that it’s this guy—with the smirk and the face and the cold eyes that refuse to relinquish their hold on me even as they demand that I don’t look too closely—just pisses me off more.
It’s that anger that finally gives me the strength to break free of his gaze. I rip my eyes away, then search desperately for something else—anything else—to focus on.
Unfortunately, he’s standing right in front of me, so close that he’s blocking my view of anything else.
Determined to avoid his eyes, I look anywhere but. And land instead on his long, lean body. Then really wish I hadn’t, because the black jeans and T-shirt he’s wearing only emphasize his flat stomach and hard, well-defined biceps. Not to mention the double-wide shoulders that are absolutely responsible for blocking my view in the first place.
Add in the thick, dark hair that’s worn a little too long, so that it falls forward into his face and skims low across his insane cheekbones, and there’s nothing to do but give in. Nothing to do but admit that—obnoxious smirk or not—this boy is sexy af.
A little wicked, a lot wild, and all dangerous.
What little oxygen I’ve been able to pull into my lungs in this high altitude completely disappears with the realization. Which only makes me madder. Because, seriously. When exactly did I become the heroine in some YA romance? The new girl swooning over the hottest, most unattainable boy in school?
Gross. And so not happening.
Determined to nip whatever this is in the bud, I force myself to look at his face again. This time, as our gazes meet and clash, I realize that it doesn’t matter if I’m acting like some giant romantic cliché.
Because he isn’t.
One glance and I know that this dark boy with the closed-off eyes and the fuck-you attitude isn’t the hero of anyone’s story. Least of all mine.
3
Vampire Queens
Aren’t the Only Ones
with a Nasty Bite
Determined not to let this staring contest that feels a little like a show of dominance go on any longer, I cast around for something to break the tension. And settle on a response to the only thing he’s actually said to me so far.
“Who’s got a nasty bite?”
He reaches past me and picks up the piece I dropped, holds the queen for me to see. “She’s really not very nice.”
I stare at him. “She’s a chess piece.”
His obsidian eyes gleam back. “Your point?”
“My point is, she’s a chess piece. She’s made of marble. She can’t bite anyone.”
He inclines his head in a you never know gesture. “‘There are more things in heaven and hell, Horatio, / Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.’”
“Earth,” I correct before I can think better of it.
He crooks one midnight-black brow in question, so I continue. “The quote is, ‘There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio.’”
“Is it now?” His face doesn’t change, but there’s something mocking in his tone that wasn’t there before, like I’m the one who made the mistake, not him. But I know I’m right—my AP English class just finished reading Hamlet last month, and my teacher spent forever on that quote. “I think I like my version better.”
“Even though it’s wrong?”
“Especially because it’s wrong.”
I have no idea what I’m supposed to say to that, so I just shake my head. And wonder how lost I’ll get if I go looking for Macy and Uncle Finn right now. Probably very, considering the size of this place, but I’m beginning to think I should risk it. Because the longer I stand here, the more I realize this guy is as terrifying as he is intriguing.
I’m not sure which is worse. And I’m growing less sure by the second that I want to find out.
“I need to go.” I force the words past a jaw I didn’t even know I’d been clenching.
“Yeah, you do.” He takes a small step back, nods toward the common room Macy and I just walked through. “The door’s that way.”
It’s not the response I’m expecting, and it throws me off guard. “So what, I shouldn’t let it hit me on the way out?”
He shrugs. “As long as you leave this school, it doesn’t matter to me if it hits you or not. I warned your uncle you wouldn’t be safe here, but he obviously doesn’t like you much.”
Anger flashes through me at his words, burning away the last of the numbness that has plagued me. “Who exactly are you supposed to be anyway? Katmere’s very own unwelcome wagon?”
“Unwelcome wagon?” His tone is as obnoxious as his face. “Believe me, this is the nicest greeting you’re going to get here.”
“This is it, huh?” I raise my brows, spread my arms out wide. “The big welcome to Alaska?”
“More like, welcome to hell. Now get the fuck out.”
The last is said in a snarl that yanks my heart into my throat. But it also slams my temper straight into the stratosphere. “Is it that stick up your ass that makes you such a jerk?” I demand. “Or is this just your regular, charming personality?”
The words come out fast and furious, before I even know I’m going to say them. But once they’re out, I don’t regret them. How can I when shock flits across his face, finally erasing that annoying smirk of his?
At least for a minute. Then he fires back, “I’ve got to say, if that’s the best you’ve got, I give you about an hour.”
I know I shouldn’t ask, but he looks so smug, I can’t help myself. “Before what?”
“Before something eats you.” He doesn’t say it, but the obviously is definitely implied. Which only pisses me off more.
“Seriously? That’s what you decided to go with?” I roll my eyes. “Bite me, dude.”
“Nah, I don’t think so.” He looks me up and down. “I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t even make an appetizer.”
But then he’s stepping closer, leaning down until he’s all but whispering in my ear. “Maybe a quick snack, though.” His teeth close with a loud, sharp snap that makes me jump and shiver all at the same time.
Which I hate…so, so much.
I glance around us, curious if anyone else is witnessing this mess. But where everyone only had eyes for me earlier, they seem to be going out of their way not to glance in my direction now. One lanky boy with thick red hair even keeps his head so awkwardly turned to the side while walking across the room that he almost runs into another student.