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“Beautiful,” I repeated tonelessly, wondering what sort of mantra I’d need to withstand a summer full of elegance. With Dagursson.
“You can say it, you can repeat it”—he paused long enough to make me once again question how many thoughts of mine he knew—“but you must believe you are beautiful. You must feel it, here. ” He grazed a finger just above my left breast.
I held my breath, and my heart thumped to meet his touch, as though beckoned.
Alcántara let his hand linger, his fingertip gently pressing down on the soft swell of my flesh. My skin always felt cool in his presence, but this time flames licked up my legs, dancing into my very core.
I didn’t want him, though. Not in a sexual way. Not precisely.
The yearning I felt was more for the glimpse of something dark and forbidden. I wanted to go there in my mind, but never could I ever imagine going there in body.
The strains of some cloyingly classical tripe drifted through an open window. I fought the urge to grimace. How was it I found myself in this preposterous situation? I had to leave one vampire because another awaited me.
Alcántara took a step back. Without dropping his gaze, he tilted his chin in an elegant nod of farewell. “Until we meet again, querida. ”
He turned and walked away. Leaving me to wonder at the mess I’d gotten myself into. And how I might get myself back out again.
CHAPTER THREE
I stared at that bizarrely skinny back and steeled myself. Master Alrik Dagursson—the creepiest of the creeps. As far as I could tell, he’d been some sort of Viking in his time—but weren’t Vikings supposed to be all big and brawny? If anything, Dagursson looked like an aging rocker after several hard-lived decades of sex, drugs, and rock and roll. Except maybe not the sex part.
He turned in that felt-you-looking sort of way, and I darted my eyes away. A few other students were there, all in their standard uniform—girls in gray leggings and tunics, boys in black denim and wool sweaters. I became acutely aware of the wedgie my damp cotton granny briefs had deposited between my sandy cheeks. I forced myself to stand tall and ignore it, but I felt like a moron.
I scanned the dance studio for a familiar face. And find one I did. I felt my face explode into a smile, because pretty much one of the only things that could make a special seminar in decorum palatable was my friend Yasuo.
“Yo. ” He gave me a huge grin, apparently as happy as I was that we were in this together.
I made a beeline straight for him, and he scanned my clothes, cocking his head in amusement. “What’s with the outfit, Blondie?”
I crossed my arms in front of my chest, feeling exposed standing there in my shorts and sweatshirt. “Alcántara pulled me from Tracer Otto’s gym class. ”
Yasuo raised a brow.
“Don’t ask. ” I stole a surreptitious glance at the other students. “Don’t get me wrong—I am totally thrilled that I’m not in this alone, but what’s everyone doing here?”
“Remedial dance. ” He showed off an impromptu—and awkward—box step, and I saw immediately why he had to put in extra time on the dance floor.
I smiled. “Yas can fight, but he can’t dance?”
“Oh baby, Yas can dance. He just don’t do…”
“Ballroom?”
“Yeah. That one. ” He extended his arms, combining a fluid wave with a little step-step slide. “And they won’t let me pop and lock for extra credit. ”
“Go figure. ” I shook my head and had to admit he looked pretty awesome—like a chiseled, tall, and taut Japanese pop star. I gave him a playfully snarky smile. “So, do the smooth moves come naturally, or is hip-hop part of the Los Angeles public school curriculum?”
“Oh, Blondie, this is all one hundred percent natural, Yasuo Ito vampire mojo. All the better to wow the ladies. ”
“Yasuo Ito vampire Trainee mojo,” I corrected him. Like the girls aspiring to become Watchers, a bunch of teenaged guys on this island were training to become vampires. The vampiric process was kept pretty secret from us Acari, but it seemed to me that a lot of the guys didn’t survive it. And though Yas wouldn’t give me any clues, every once in a while I could sense his anxiety about the whole thing. “Seems to me you’re still a long way from vampiredom. ”
He raised his hands in surrender. “Ouch. ”
I sensed a shift in the energy around me, as if class was getting ready to start, and I stifled a giggle, whispering, “Yeah, because you’re so sensitive. ”
“Attention. ” Dagursson stood at the front of the studio, clapping his bizarrely long, bony hands. His eyes swept the room, pausing on me for the merest second. If I knew Master Dag, he’d hate the sight of cotton, particularly damp, sandy cotton.
I shuddered, and Yas leaned down to whisper in my ear. “Dude looks like the Crypt Keeper’s ugly cousin. ”
