“But we need to figure out our costumes,” she says without meeting his gaze.
“Costumes?”he repeats. “What for? I am not attending.”
“What do you mean?” She narrows her gaze at him like he has said something wrong.
“Exactly what I said.”
“So what will you do instead?”
“Read.”
“But the whole school is going! You have to be there.”
“Why?”
“To… to keep up appearances.” She sounds unconvinced by her own argument.
“If anyone asks, just say I am unwell.”
“But they’ll be suspicious if we don’t at least work on our costumes. Just pretend you’re going with me, then you can stand me up if you want.”
He is surprised by how much she wants to attend with him, but as he is in a good mood at the prospect of blood, he decides to let this go. “Okay, I shall pretend. Now, may we move on to our plans for tomorrow—?”
“No,” she blurts, and he knits his brow in confusion. “After the dance. You can feed on me”—her voice drops a few registers as she says it—“after the dance.”
“No.”
The word sounds like a growl.
William feels his shoulders lurching forward like he is preparing for an attack. His throat begins to burn with the strength of his craving, and the only thing that will soothe it is blood.
He will drain every single human in this room if he does not get his way.
“You said eight weeks,” he reminds her, his voice still coming off more beast than man.
“It’s only a difference oftwodays—”
“Why is it so important to you that we attend this dance together?” he demands, his volume rising just enough that the others stop speaking, and the room goes silent.
Lorena looks stricken by the question.
“I just—I’ve-never-been-to-a-school-dance-before.” She whispers the sentence like it is a multihyphenated word. “Especially with a date, and I think it could be a fun social experience. You did havefunback in the 1700s, right?”
He cannot fathom being eighteen and never having attended a ball. “Why have you never been to one before?”
She shakes her head like it is not important. “If waiting eight weeks didn’t kill you, you can wait forty-eight hours.” She crosses her arms, but the tremble in her voice undermines her defiance.
How dare she think she can order him around?
William’s arms quiver, and he feels the lines of his frown digging into his face. She will cave to him, or she will not live through the night.
“I will remind you,” he says menacingly, his mouth inching closer to her, “that we have anagreement—”
“And I will remind you,” she says without shrinking back, “that I have avideo—”
“Which could be artificial intelligence or faked.” Her mouth opens, and he takes satisfaction in surprising her. “I have been reading all about the advances in technology that you neglected to mention. Somehow, your recording does not seem as big a threat as you made it out to be.”
Yet her expression looks far from defeated. She sits up like she does in English class when they are debating. “Well, fake or not,” she says, “the Legion will still be moved to investigate it, won’t they?”
