He rolled up halfway, and the sensation stopped as if he'd hit a switch. Twin handprints of burned grass marked where his hands had just been. He turned toward me and cupped my cheek, his thumb stroking away tears I hadn't realized I'd cried. "I'm okay now, Sav. Sorry about that. Is Dylan gone?"
I nodded, leaning into his hand. I was just relieved that he was okay.
"Did he get the memory card? I dropped it around here somewhere."
I looked around us, but in the dark I couldn't see anything. "I don't know. I can't see it."
He cursed. "I should have held on to it-"
"He was hitting you. Don't worry about it." Gripping his wrist near my face, I closed my eyes. "You're okay. That's all I care about right now." I sighed through my nose then froze as my stomach grumbled. Something smelled good. Maybe it was Tristan's cologne.
"Are you wearing a new cologne today?" I said, drawing in more of the overwhelming scent.
"Uh, no." He sounded a little amused.
"Wow, you smell good."
"Oh, no, no more kisses tonight. That's what got us in this mess."
I should be upset at his words. But all I could focus on was how good he smelled. He seemed positively...lickable. I turned my face toward his hand still on my cheek, and the luscious scent intensified, making me want to moan.
I reached up to hold his hand and studied it. "Ouch. Your knuckles are bleeding."
"Yeah, I busted them on his face. Obviously not often enough, though. Listen, if he did find the memory card, I don't think he'll really send those pics to your family. His problem is with me, not you. He just likes to play head games..."
His voice faded away along with all other sounds except the solid, strong thud of his heart.
I brought his wounded fingers to my mouth and kissed a scraped knuckle. And the single most intoxicating, mind-numbing, soul-shattering flavor exploded across my tongue.
It was like red velvet cake, chocolate meringue pie, rocky-road ice cream and apple pie a la mode combined. But better. A million times better. I could live on this flavor for the rest of my life and die happy. I kissed the next knuckle on his hand, and the flavor filled me again, just a sip of pure heaven to tease and tantalize and drive me mad with need for more.
I could sell my soul without hesitation for a cupful of this taste.
"Savannah? Savannah!" Tristan pulled his hand from my grasp, and I nearly wept, the loss was that intense. The scent faded away, the taste on my tongue fast following it.
Despair swamped me, and I buried my face in my hands in an effort to hold it in. It was either that or scream from the emotion. I pulled in long breaths of clean air to clear my system of the druglike effects. But I couldn't clear out the memory of that smell, that taste on my tongue.
Slowly, reason seeped back in until I couldn't understand why I'd lost control in the first place. The memory was still there, but not the emotions, allowing me to think again.
What in the world had just happened?
"Savannah, are you okay?"
Was I? I'd kissed his wounded hand, and then...
I glanced at his hand, at his bloody knuckles. The taste in my mouth, surely it couldn't be...
A bead of blood still shone on his split lip. Unable to believe I was really doing it, I reached up, stroked a thumb over that glistening spot, then brought my thumb to my mouth. And like before, that same scent and taste filled my nose and mouth, drowning out every other sense, hollowing me out so nothing was left to take up room inside me. Clearing away everything I was, so only the craving was left. But this time, that craving was tainted by horror.
A nightmarish chorus of hisses, high-pitched like nails drawn across a thousand chalkboards, screeched from nearby, breaking through the mental fog and drawing my attention.
The watchers, just ten yards away on the opposite side of the road, bared their teeth and fangs at me. Fangs. Ohhh, holy crap.
I shot to my feet, and the vampires fled together in a blur.
"Savannah. What's wrong?" Tristan stood up beside me, the panic in his voice an echo of the fear pulsing through me.
"The watchers. They just hissed at me then took off."
"And before that? You completely zoned out on me."
"I..." I could not tell him about this, could never admit what seemed too horrible for even my own mind to absorb. "I...have to go home." Now. Before I did something way worse than just lick the blood off his fingers. I fumbled in my jacket pocket, found the team keys and all but threw them at him, afraid to get too close to him again. "Please lock up for me."
"You have to go home? Right now?"
I nodded, but even that tiny movement threatened to shatter my self-control.
"Well, at least let me walk you-"
"No! I can't. I'm sorry. I..." I could see a vein pulsing in the side of his neck, right there beneath the thin, breakable surface of his skin.
How easy would it be to cut that skin? Just a little nick, and then...
Oh, my God.
Unable to say another word, total loss of control seconds away, I turned and ran for my truck. The key scratched around the keyhole before I could get the door unlocked. I threw myself in, started the engine and caught a tear-blurred glimpse of Tristan running toward me as I sped away. He looked upset, confused, but okay.
He would be okay now. The watchers were gone. Tristan obviously wasn't weak anymore, judging by how hard he had been running after me. And since I'd left, he would be safe from me, too.
Tristan
It was a night for insanity all around apparently. I ran after Savannah, reaching the parking lot in time to see her truck fishtail out the exit in a flurry of spitting gravel and squealing tires. Wow, she'd gotten to her truck fast.
Slow down, Sav, please. I willed her to hear me. You're going to get into a wreck if you don't.
I'd have to go after her and make sure she got home okay.
Jogging back into the sports and art building, I crossed to the far end of the entrance hall and slapped a hand over all four light switches at once, plunging the foyer into darkness. I would lock the foyer doors, too. That should be enough to keep out any vandals. Later I'd come back, turn off the upstairs lights we'd left on and grab our things. But only after I made sure Savannah got home safely.
Moonlight shone through the windows at either side of the foyer doors, lighting my way toward them. If I hurried, I might even catch up to Savannah before she got home. Then we could talk about whatever had freaked her out so badly.