She frowned, sitting a small distance away. “Okay. How are you?”
He twirled a pocketknife in his hands. “Confused. I mean, I’ve always accepted my destiny—to rule the Kurjans, then the world. But ... I don’t know.” He flicked the blade open. “Everyone is afraid of me, and it’s not like I can talk to anyone.”
Boy teenagers were weird. Even Kurjan ones. He was what, fifteen now? “You can talk to me.”
“Thank you.” He closed the blade, shoving it in the pants pocket of his skinny black jeans. Just like the teenagers wore on television. “I figured you’re the only one I can talk to. Thanks for letting me in the dream.”
“Do you wanna be friends?” If they became friends, then Kalin and Zane would be friends, and they would end the war.
Kalin shrugged. “I don’t know. Friends are new to me.”
Janie sat up straighter. “You found a friend, Kalin?” This might be so good. If Kalin made a friend, he’d want more. She’d had lots of friends in preschool before they moved. It was fun having lots of friends. Some would want to play games; others would dress up with her in princess costumes. Now she was a real princess. But she missed her friends.
A slight pink covered Kalin’s face. “I think so. I mean, she’s kind of a friend.”
Oh. Kalin found a girlfriend. Janie fought the urge to sing about Kalin in a tree. He wouldn’t like that. “What’s her name?”
“Peggy.” Kalin grabbed a pebble off the green, throwing it into the sand trap. “She’s human.”
“You should give her flowers.” Janie had watched a TV show last week where the boy picked daisies and gave them to a girl with a broken leg. “Or candy.”
Kalin ran his palm along the short, springy grass. “I guess. I mean, I probably should clear the field first. We’ve been talking on the phone a lot. She likes the Goth look, but she has these other friends, guys ... and I was thinking. . . ”
Janie gasped. “You can’t kill them, Kalin. Not if you want Peggy to like you.”
He glanced up, his green eyes swirling with red sparks. “Sure I can. I mean, if you love someone, you want them to really know you, right?”
“Well, yeah.” Janie frowned. “But you’ve never killed anyone yet, right? So you don’t need to start.”
He blinked. Twice. “No. I haven’t killed, but I will. We are at war, Janie. I’m a soldier.” He rubbed his chin, exactly like Zane had done. Must be a boy thing. “She thinks I’m this kind of dangerous guy she met at the movies one night. She has no idea who I am.”
“You can be who you want. Be someone she’ll like.” Be someone who wants to end the war. For the first real time, Janie figured they had a chance to fix everything. “Sometimes it’s what we mean to do that matters.” She sighed.
How could she put this in boy words? “When I went to preschool, a girl named Melanie brung a cool pencil—blue with pink dots. I super-duper wanted it. She left it on the table one day, and I thought about taking it.” Janie’s face got hot. She probably shouldn’t tell Kalin this. “But I didn’t ... and I was happy I didn’t. I could’ve and nobody would’ve caught me, but stealing is bad. I was good.”
Kalin frowned. “So you’re saying even though I can end these guys, if I choose to not to do that, I’ve become a better person?”
“Sure, and then you’d prove you’re a better person. So next time the decision will be easier.” Hopefully. This teenage stuff confused her. “You want Peggy to know the real you.”
“Interesting.”
“So, uh, do you have fangs?” She wondered if his were like Zane’s.
Kalin tilted his head to the side and opened his mouth. His fangs shot out, sharp and clean.
“Do you drink blood?” The idea still seemed icky.
“Yes.” His teeth went back to normal. “Though only if I’m hurt.”
She’d gotten a paper cut last week and tasted the blood. But she didn’t like it. “What does blood taste like to you?”
He shrugged. “Depends on whose blood I’m drinking. If someone eats a bunch of candy, their blood is sweeter. Everyone’s different.”
“Oh.” She bet her mama’s blood tasted like chocolate.
Kalin stood, reaching a hand to help Janie up.
She took his offer and slid her hand into his. It was big like Zane’s, but not as warm. “Thanks.”
She let go once on her feet.
Kalin smiled. “Any time. Thanks for listening, Janie.” He turned to stroll off the green without a backward glance.
Kalin woke himself from the dream with a start, wondering if the little genius was on to something. Why in the world had he lied to her? Of course he’d killed. Many times, usually women he hunted. For some reason, he hadn’t wanted Janie to know. He stretched in the bed.
Cold. Even with heaters, a chill always wound through his room built into the rocks underground. Probably because the ocean fronted the rock cliffs. So many fathoms down it became freezing. “Lights.” They flicked on, and he rolled from the bed, missing the bright colors and warmth of Janie’s dream world.
How bizarre that his future enemy was his only friend.
His feet curled into a thick Persian rug he’d stolen from a woman he’d killed in Kansas. She’d been a redhead who owned an antique store. He liked to take a gift, something to help him remember his women. Usually he took smaller trinkets, but the richness of the rug called to him. He’d had to lug it to the private plane he had waiting. Franco didn’t care if Kalin killed, just insisted he do so away from headquarters, so Kalin always had a plane waiting.
He shrugged, his gaze landing on pictures scattered across the rock wall. “Hello, Peggy.”
The stunning teenager filled every photograph in different scenes, in different clothes. The night pictures he’d taken himself, plus a few during cloudy days when she’d hurried into school, unaware of his vigil. He’d hired a local delinquent to take pictures during the sunny days, since the sun would fry his skin from his body. Hundreds of pictures. Of course, Kalin had broken the moron’s neck after delivery. He certainly didn’t want Peggy to think he was stalking her. He merely wanted pictures.
After bowling that first night, they’d slid easily into friendship. He’d made a mistake revealing his real age. Should’ve said he was older. Although she thought him too young to date, something about him intrigued her. Women were like moths ... the flame attracted them. He was different from boys at her school—homeschooled, yet dangerous.
Soon, very soon he’d make his move. Kiss her, take her to a hotel for the night. The night they’d held hands, running through the rain had almost killed him. His jeans had been so tight he thought he’d explode. The girl was sexy as hell. He’d gotten plenty of experience the last couple years. Sure, those women weren’t willing, but he’d still learned. He’d please Peggy.
The center picture was his favorite. He had taken it at the bowling alley with his cell phone. She smiled at him and actually posed. Her sparkling blue eyes filled with life, and her shiny brown hair billowed around her shoulders.
Interesting. Kalin had never put it together before, but Peggy looked like Janie. Same coloring. Same delicate bone structure.
He threw on sweats and thick socks, yawning and wandering through his quarters to Franco’s private office. No need to knock. He’d one day rule their nation ... and he didn’t knock. The leader stood dressed in his soldier’s black and red uniform by the wall of windows showcasing deep-sea life. It was dark, merciless, and absent of fish.
“Franco.” Kalin dropped into a leather chair that chilled his skin further. His father had owned fish in a pretty tank. Nobody owned the fish outside the windows—those that were nowhere to be seen at the moment. What would his father have thought about Peggy? Too bad Talen had murdered him. Now Kalin would never know.