SAVANNAH

The look on Tristan's face was burned into my mind. The memory of it kept flashing before me when I least expected it. He'd looked so...hurt. And angry.

I'd thought he had moved on. He'd been dating Bethany for months. How could he still be mad at me for making the right call and keeping him safe?

Maybe it was the fact that I was one of the few girls who had broken up with him, instead of the other way around. Maybe it was just his ego that was hurting and not his heart.

Whatever the reason for his anger, now that he'd figured out I could read his mind, he seemed bent on using it to punish me every chance he got.

By the second week of being loudly tortured by his never-ending variety of mental imagery, which ranged from memories of him and me together to memories of him with Bethany, I'd lost all sympathy for his side of the situation. He was acting like a spoiled brat. If he kept this crap up, I would have to call Emily and beg her to make me a memory confusion charm or whatever it was Tristan used against my gaze daze stalkers last year to keep them away from me.

And then if he ended up flunking English and getting benched from the football games because of it, well, that would serve him right for being such a horse's rear!

Worse, Bethany's car was still in the shop, so now I couldn't even escape seeing him at Charmers practice. Every morning and afternoon, there he was, the golden prince of Jacksonville, sweetly walking Bethany to and from the edge of the track that circled the practice field where the dancers practiced all football season when the weather allowed it. And on days when rain drove us inside to practice in the girls' gym in the basement level of the sports and arts building, Tristan was even closer, walking Bethany right up to the gym doorway just yards away from where I was setting up the sound system.

If he'd used the same torture strategy every time, maybe I could have learned to ignore him. But Tristan was diabolically creative. Knowing me as well as he did no doubt helped. He knew that just seeing Bethany hanging on his arm was enough to set my teeth on edge. So he saved the mental imagery for English class, and simply let me "listen" in on their conversations at Charmers practice.

I'd given up on ever getting the ink stains off my writing hand. I'd broken six pens in English class. Thankfully two of the perks of my vampire genes were speed-reading and a nearly photographic memory, so I could read from the textbook what I missed in the class lectures.

That didn't exactly help my steadily rising stress levels, though.

The week of Halloween, I decided to get smart about English class. On Tuesday, I started taking notes with a pencil instead. Every time Tristan's thoughts managed to make me lose control and break it, I simply used a sharpener I'd also brought so I could keep using the broken pieces to write with.

By the time class was nearly over, my pencil was down to only two inches. Which Tristan of course found vastly amusing.

Boy, you vamps really have anger management issues, he thought, lounging in his desk with his arms crossed over his chest and his long legs stretched out in front of him.

If only the ESP was a two-way thing, the piece of my mind that I would give him...

Do y'all have a group for that? he thought, one corner of his full lips kicking up. A vampire therapist could make some serious dough teaching that. If he survived the sessions with his clients, that is.

Okay, now that made me smile a little. Maybe that was a good career option for me. Vampire therapist, specializing in anger management issues. If I could learn to control my own temper first, that is.

How would a vampire therapist go about advertising her services? Probably by word of mouth. Maybe I could take referrals from the council, offer counseling to help rehab rogue vamps who lost their cool in public...

Of course, maybe I should sign up for a few sessions myself, he thought, the words quieter now in his mind. Was he still "talking" to me? Man, the other day when I learned about you and Ron, I wanted to... The words faded away, replaced by vivid images of Tristan pummeling the crap out of Ron's face.

I didn't know what was more shocking...that he thought Ron and I were dating and was upset about it, or how quickly my own fury rose up and out of control.

"Do it and I'll-" I snarled, leaning over the armrest of my desktop, my nails digging into the wood.

"You'll what?" Tristan murmured, barely turning his head to look at me with raised eyebrows. What would you do to protect your precious boy toy?

Someone was grabbing my shoulders from behind, but I couldn't see them. All I could see was the way Tristan's eyes crackled with heat like twin emeralds held before a roaring fireplace. Eyes I wanted to poke out right now.

"Savannah, chill out," someone murmured against my ear. Ron leaning across the aisle at my left. But that wasn't what finally brought me back to earth. Nor was it Mrs. Knowles standing at my side, also demanding that I calm down.

It was the two fangs pricking at the inside of my lower lip. That sensation alone sent a cold wash of fear cascading down my entire body, effectively drowning the fury. And right on its heels came the stupid tears to fill and burn my eyes like poison my body refused to process. They spilled out and down my cheeks faster than I could wipe them away with my hands.

Furious embarrassment over crying in front of Tristan only made the tears fall faster.

"Why don't you take a bathroom break and cool off," Mrs. Knowles said, her tone making it more an order than a suggestion.

My fangs still hadn't retracted, so I opted for nodding silently and making the fastest exit I could while still hopefully appearing human.

In the restroom, I used toilet paper to mop up the mascara tracks on my face. Then I just stood there gripping the edges of the porcelain sink.

How did Tristan do this to me? Nobody on this planet could make me laugh or cry as easily as he could. One minute he had me trying not to burst out in laughter during class. The next second, I was ready to choke him with my bare hands! Even Dylan and the Brat Twins couldn't drive me as crazy as Tristan could.

Which made me wonder if the evil trio would soon be back in business, too. Other than the blood on my locker, they hadn't bothered me in quite a while. Were they tired of messing with me? Had their parents told them to leave me alone?

Maybe they knew Tristan had taken up their cause for them.

If so, they couldn't have chosen better. No matter how I tried to steel myself against him, Tristan kept finding ways to get around my defenses.

And what was with all the references to "me and Ron" and Ron being my "boy toy"? He was acting like he thought Ron and I were dating or something.

Even if Ron and I had been dating, why would Tristan care?

He had Bethany now, and it was clear to every single person on this campus that she was beyond in love with him. Why couldn't he just be happy with her and stop punishing me already? We'd broken up months ago. And obviously he didn't love me anymore, judging by the way he seemed bound and determined to make me miserable.

Whatever the reason behind his attitude, the torture had to stop. My showing fangs in class definitely wouldn't make the vamp council or the Clann happy. If Tristan kept pushing me like this, either I would have to use a spell on him or I'd have to start homeschooling. I couldn't take much more.

I waited till the dismissal bell rang then returned to English class, expecting the room to be empty. It wasn't. Both Ron and Tristan were waiting for me.

"Sorry, Sav," Tristan muttered. He was standing in the aisle between our desks, leaning forward, his hands braced on the backs of our chairs. He wouldn't look at me. And I couldn't hear his thoughts for a change.

My fangs had retracted in the restroom. Still, I thought it was a good idea to stick with a short nod before I gathered up my books and bag and left with Ron. If I spoke one word to Tristan right now, I was pretty sure it wouldn't be anything nice.

Grateful that it was a tutorial day, I retreated to the sanctuary of the library with Ron. My hands shook as I flipped through the English lit textbook, my eyes unable to focus enough to make sense of the words running across the pages.

Tristan had gone way too far this time. His fighting Dylan and Greg had made at least a little sense each time. But to want to hit Ron just because Tristan thought I was dating him?

And where had he gotten that idea anyway? Everyone else knew Ron and I were just friends, nothing more. Couldn't Tristan be bothered to ask around instead of jumping to conclusions? Heck, he might as well be jealous of Anne, Carrie and Michelle while he was at it!

The whole thing was ridiculous. Tristan was being completely unreasonable.

"Want to talk about it?" Ron asked, making me jump.

"About what?"

"Oh, I don't know. How about whatever Tristan thought back there to make you lose it like that in class?"

"It's... Hang on, what do you mean, 'whatever Tristan thought?'"

"It's rumored that descendants can still hear each others' thoughts. Since he didn't say anything out loud today, I assumed you two must be doing the ESP thing instead."

My eyes narrowed. "How do you know so much about descendants?"

Ron shrugged. "I grew up hearing stories about them. Everyone in my family did."

Just what the heck were they discussing in his mother's genealogical society meetings?

"I'm pretty sure I'm not supposed to talk about Clann abilities to an outsider," I mumbled, feeling awkward now.

He leaned forward and grinned. "But you can hear his thoughts, right?"

In the background, I heard his mother at the front desk, her voice rising enough to carry down the entire length of the library. Whoever she was on the phone with was getting an earful.

"What's up with your mom?"

"Aw, she's just ticked off 'cause some punks broke into the genealogical society office and trashed the place."

"Whoa. How bad was it?"

"They busted the locks off the filing cabinets and threw a bunch of paperwork all over the place. Probably bored and stupid with nothing better to do. Don't worry, she'll get over it once she gets tired of hearing the detectives tell her there're no new clues to follow."

Though beautiful, Jacksonville was a little short on teenaged entertainment, other than the movie theater and annual festivals and rodeo. For an average weekend when nothing was on the local calendar, most people drove the half hour to Tyler or even farther to Dallas or Houston.

Still, who would want to break into a genealogical society's office?

"Now quit avoiding the subject," Ron said. "That's why you went berserk today, isn't it? Because you can read Tristan's mind. He's been driving you nuts with his thoughts, hasn't he?"

Ugh. Ron had a pit bull's gleam in his eyes. He wasn't going to let this go.

I sighed, exhausted by all the secrets everyone expected me to keep. "Yes, I can. And yes, he's driving me insane. When he's not drudging up our past, he's picturing making out with Bethany."

"What a jerk."

The overly sympathetic tone made me smile. "Yeah, lately he is."

I glanced down at the textbook, realized it was turned to completely the wrong lesson, and found the right page. "What did you say to him after I left today? He was awfully quick to apologize when I got back."

His face became the image of innocence. "Nothing."

I grinned. "Yeah, right. What'd you do, threaten to beat him up or something?"

Now there was a fight I definitely wouldn't want to see. Both guys were around the six-foot mark in height, both broad-shouldered, muscular and fast from all their football training. They were evenly matched physically. The only way Tristan could gain the upper hand in a fight with Ron was to resort to magic.

Before today, I would have said Tristan would never stoop that low in a fight with someone who wasn't a descendant. But after today, I had to wonder.

"No, I swear, we didn't say a word to each other," Ron said. I stared at him, but he didn't blink. "Maybe he just felt bad about making you cry."

My throat tightened, making my voice come out raspy. "He hasn't done that in a long, long time."

Ron reached across the table and patted my shoulder. "Want me to beat him up for you?"

A laugh burst out of me. "I made that same offer to Anne about you."

His eyebrows shot up. "I take it she turned you down?"

Smiling, I went back to reading the lesson I'd missed this morning. "Maybe she didn't. Maybe she requested a surprise attack."

He snorted. "I wouldn't put it past her. When that girl gets ticked off..."

"Yeah, she's a true warrior. Get her mad enough and she'll fight just about anybody who's doing wrong in her eyes."

"Which is how I know she'd never ask you to try and beat me up for her."

I laughed. "Of course not. She'd rather do it herself."