Someone catcalls and tells us to get a room, and then, when I finally surface for air, I see Melissa.
“There you are,” she says. “And here I thought you were telling me the truth about how you felt. Shame.”
Turning, she flounces off and I start after her. “Melissa, wait!”
“What is she talking about?” Jason pulls me back to him, brows knitted. “About how you felt? How do you feel, then?”
“Frustrated?” I suggest. “I have to go talk to her, Jax. Let me go.”
“Fine.” He’s still frowning. “I have to get to training, anyway. Another one of us should be around here to escort you wherever you want to go.”
I jerk away from him and hurry after Melissa, into the refectory, between the long tables and benches. I can’t snap at him that I don’t need an escort when it’s obvious by now that I do, but it still feels weird to know that one of the four boys will be around to protect me.
The curl of pleasure in my insides at the thought of them nearby is starting to become familiar.
And annoying.
“Melissa! Wait.” She’s fast, her back stiff as she winds her way toward the line for the food. She grabs a tray and I grab one, too, though my stomach is in knots, and I doubt I can eat anything right now. “Let me explain.”
“Explain how he had his tongue down your throat?” She grabs a bread roll and slams it unnecessarily hard on her tray. “How he held you and you let him? What’s your explanation? Were you choking and he gave you mouth-to-mouth?”
“Melissa…” I grab a roll, too. “I have to play along, okay? I need to get close to them to ferret out their secrets. Unless you have something for me…?”
I let my voice trail off, leave a question mark at the end. She chooses a salad; I grab a plate of pasta—because pasta and chocolate make everything better.
She veers off toward one of the long tables and I tail her, hurrying to catch up. I’ve ditched the shoes Zoey gave me in favor of my old flats but the short skirt is a little narrow and won’t let me walk very fast.
“Still here?” she mutters as she sits down.
“Yes. I’m telling you the truth. Please, tell me you got something. All I want is to find their weakness, hit them where it hurts, and then leave. I didn’t plan on staying here for the semester or anything.”
She takes a forkful of salad, watching me, a crease between her brows. She chews, takes another forkful.
This is a test, I decide, because I know how it works. Mother did it to me when she thought I was being naughty and needed a lesson. The silent treatment. See whether I’ll break and confess to something bad, or get up and leave, losing patience.
So I dig into my pasta and gaze back as I eat. I force the food down, because this is a contest, this is a battle, and I’m not backing down. This is important, this is what I came here for.
Eventually, she puts her fork down, wipes her mouth on a paper napkin, and folds her arms on the table. “I did find something out,” she says.
Yay. Looks like I passed the test. “What?”
“It’s about Ashton.”
“Ashton. Okay.” Of all the boys he’d struck me as the most normal and balanced.
“Yes. He had an accident when he was younger. On a demonbike. Almost died.”
“Oh my God, that’s terrible. I mean…” I put my fork down, too. “That’s not something I can use against him. It wasn’t his fault.”
“He stole that bike, girly. And yeah, that’s not all. He has killed.”
My blood runs cold. “Ashton? You sure?”
“He’s a vampire. Or have you forgotten?”
“But—”
“They kill,” she says. “It’s what they do. Drain you of blood. Dance on your dead body. They are thirsty for your life.”