"Shane -- "
He kissed her, and his lips were warm and damp and soft and urgent. "Please," he whispered. "We need to leave this town. It's going to get bad. I can feel it."
God, why was he doing this? Why now? "I can't," she said. "I -- school, and -- I just can't, Shane. I can't leave." Her signature on a piece of paper. Her soul on a platter. It had been the price to keep them safe, but she'd have to keep on paying, right? As apprentice to Myrnin. And she guessed that wouldn't be a long-distance study course.
"Please." It was barely a whisper from him, his lips brushing hers, and honestly, she would have done almost anything for him when he used that tone, but this time ...
"What happened?" she asked.
"What?"
"Was it something with Michael? Did he -- did you -- ?" She didn't even know what she was asking, but something had deeply disturbed Shane, and she had no idea what it was.
He looked at her for a long few seconds, then pulled away, stood up, and walked to his window to look down on the back yard they never really used. "My dad called," he said. "He told me that he was coming back, and he wanted me to be prepared to take out some vampires. If I stay, I'm going to have to kill Michael. I don't want to be here, Claire. I can't."
He didn't want to make the choice, not again. Claire bit her lip, hard; she could hear the pain in his voice, although he wasn't going to let her see it in his expression. "You really think your dad will come back?"
"Yeah. Eventually. Maybe not this month, maybe not this year, but ... someday. And next time, he'll have what he needs to start a real war around here." Shane shivered; she saw the muscles in his back tense up under the tight gray shirt he was wearing. "I need to get you out of here before you get hurt."
Claire got up, walked to him, and put her arms around him from behind. She leaned against him, her head on his back, sighed. "I'm more worried about you," she said. "You and trouble ..."
"Yeah." She heard the smile in his voice. "We're like that."
Chapter Four
The spaghetti was good, and a little pleading got Shane to sit down and eat. He sat across from Michael, but they didn't talk, and they didn't make eye contact. All in all, pretty polite, and Claire was just starting to relax when Shane asked, blandly, "You put extra garlic in this, Eve? You know how I like the garlic."
She shot him a dirty look. "Oh, the neighborhood knows." And then an apologetic one toward Michael. "It's okay, right? Not too much?" Because garlic wasn't something vampires were especially fond of. That was why Shane tended to use it as garnish on everything he ate.
"It's fine," Michael said, but he was picking at his food, and he looked a little pale. "Monica stopped by today. Looking for you, Claire."
Both Shane and Eve groaned. For once, all three of her housemates were entirely in agreement. And they were all looking at her.
"What?" she asked. "I swear, it's not -- I'm not sucking up to her or anything! She's just -- crazy, okay? I'm not her friend. I don't know why she's coming around."
"She's probably going to set you up again," Eve said, and scooped more spaghetti into her bowl. "Like she did at the frat dance. Hey, she's throwing a party this Friday, did you hear? Super exclusive, flying in out of towners and everything. I guess it's her birthday, or Daddy-gave-me-money day, or whatever. We should crash."
"I like the sound of that," Shane said. "Crashing Monica's party." He glanced at Michael, then quickly away. "What about you? That break some kind of vampire rules of conduct or something?"
"Blow me, Shane."
"Boys," Eve said primly. "Language. Minor at the table."
"Well," Shane said, "I wasn't actually planning to do it."
Claire rolled her eyes. "Not like it's the first time I've heard it. Or said it."
"You shouldn't say it," Michael said, all seriousness. "No, I mean it. Girls should say 'eat me,' not 'blow me.' Wouldn't recommend 'bite me,' though. Not around here."
Eve choked on her spaghetti. Shane pounded her on the back, but he was laughing too, and so was Michael, and Claire glared at them for a little bit before giving in and admitting it was funny, after all.
Everything was all right.
"So. Friday night?" Eve asked, wiping her eyes and gasping through her giggles. "Par-tay? Because I could so use a good blowout."
"I'm in," Michael said, and took a manful bite of spaghetti. Claire wondered if it burned him. "I think if I'm with you, there's no way she can keep us out. Vampire VIP status. Might as well be good for something."
Shane looked at him, and for a second there was that warmth that Claire missed so much, but then it was gone again, and the wall was back firmly in place between the two of them.
"Must be nice," he said. "We should all go, if it's going to ruin Monica's night."
The finished the rest of the meal in uncomfortable silence. Claire realized that she kept thinking about that red velvet box sitting upstairs in her room, and struggled not to look guilty. Probably didn't succeed. She caught Michael watching her with a strange intensity; whether he was picking up on her discomfort or still wondering about why she didn't jump at the chance to go to Monica's party.
She ate too fast, cleaned her dishes, and dashed upstairs with a mumbled excuse about homework. Well, it wasn't like they weren't used to her studying. It was Shane's turn for dishes, so that would keep him busy for a while ....
The box was right where she'd left it, sitting on the dresser. She grabbed it, put her back against the wall, and slid down to a cross-legged sitting position as she weighed the box in her hand.