Then he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it, and it was definitely better than Michael had done it, definitely sexier, and Claire dropped to her knees with him; then he was kissing her, his mouth hot and hungry, and they fell back together to the throw rug next to the bed, and stayed there, locked in each other’s arms, until the chill finally drove them up to the bed.
3
Of all the mornings Claire didn’t want to get up, the next one was the worst. She woke up warm and drowsy, cuddled like a spoon against Shane, their hands clasped even in sleep. She felt great. Better than any day, ever, in her whole life.
In the still hush of early morning, she tried to freeze the moment, the sound of his soft, steady breathing, the feel of him relaxed and solid next to her.
I want this, she thought. Every day. For life. Forever.
And then her alarm clock went off, shrieking.
Claire flailed and slapped at it, then succeeded in knocking it to the floor. She dived for it and finally got it switched off, feeling like a complete fool that she’d ever left it on in the first place. She twisted around and saw Shane had opened his eyes, but hadn’t otherwise moved. He looked drowsy and sweet and lazy, hair mussed, and she leaned back down to kiss him, sweet and slow.
His arms went around her, and it felt so natural, so perfect, that she felt that glow again, that feeling of absolute rightness.
“Hey,” he said. “You’re cute when you’re panicked.”
“Just when I’m panicked?”
“Ouch. Yeah, that didn’t come out as absolutely complimentary as I’d planned. And you hang around Eve way too much.” His fingers drew lazy circles on her back, which felt like trails of sunlight. “What’s the plan for today? Because I’m in favor of nothing but this.”
She so wanted that, too. But there was a reason her alarm had gone off. “I have class,” she said with a sigh.
“Skip it.” He kissed her bare shoulder.
“I—you’ve got work! Remember? Sharp pointy knives and beef to chop?”
“Fun as that is, this is better.”
Well, his arguments were persuasive. Really persuasive. For about another thirty minutes, and then Claire forced herself to get up, grab the shower before Shane could get to it, and try to get her mind off the fact that he was lying in her bed.
And he still was when she came back in to grab her backpack. His hands were behind his head, and he looked ridiculously satisfied with the world—and with himself.
She smacked his bare foot, which was sticking out from under the sheet. “Get up, Lord of the Barbecue.”
“Ha. Don’t have to yet. You’re the one who had the bad idea to sign up for seven a.m. classes. Me, I go to work at a sensible hour.”
“Well, you’re not lying around in my bed all day, so get up. I don’t trust you alone in here.”
His smile was wicked and really, really dangerous. “Probably a good idea,” he said. “Not that you can exactly trust me in here when you’re with me.”
Oh, she was not going to climb back in bed with him. She was not. She had things to do. After gulping in a few deep breaths, she leaned over, gave him a quick kiss, avoided his grabby hands, and dashed to the door. “Out of my bed,” she said. “I mean it.”
He yawned. She grinned and shut the door on her way out.
Downstairs, the coffeepot was already brewing, and Michael was sitting at the table, a laptop computer open in front of him. She was a little surprised; Michael wasn’t really the computer type. He had one, and she supposed he had e-mail and stuff, but he wasn’t always on it or anything. Not like most people their age. (Not like her, honestly.)
He looked up at her, then down at the screen, and then back up, to stare at her as if he’d never seen her before.
“What?” she asked. “Don’t tell me some of Kim’s skanky home video made YouTube.” That was something she really didn’t ever want to think about again. Kim and her little sneaky spying habits. Kim and her plans to make herself a star with all her hidden video cameras recording every aspect of life in Morganville.
Yeah, that hadn’t gone so well for Kim, in the end.
He shook his head and went back to the computer. “I’ve been checking about the studio, the recording session, you know? They’re serious, Claire. They want me in there on Thursday.”
“Really?” She grabbed a cup of coffee and slid into a chair across from him, then doctored up her drink with milk and sugar. “So we have to leave Thursday morning?”
“No, I’m thinking we leave tonight. Just in case. And besides, it gives us some time to get used to Dallas, and I don’t want to travel during the day.” Right. Vampires. Road trip. Sunlight. Probably not the best idea.
“We can’t take your car, can we? I mean, the tinting’s not legal outside of Morganville.”
“Yeah. Which is another reason for night driving. I figure we can take Eve’s car. It’s roomy and it’s got a big trunk, in case.”
In case they got caught in the sun, he meant. Claire tapped her fingers on the coffee cup, thinking. “What about supplies?” she said. “You know.”
“I’ll stop at the blood bank and pick up a cooler,” he said. “To go.”
“Seriously? They do that?”
“You’d be surprised. We can even put Cokes in there, too.”
That didn’t seem too sanitary, somehow. Claire tried not to think about it. “How long are we going to be gone?”
“If we leave tonight and I do the demo on Thursday during the day, we could be back on Friday night. Or Saturday, depending on what kind of stuff you guys want to do. I’m easy.”
That made Claire remember something. “Uh—you know we’re going to have an escort, right?”
“Escort?” Michael frowned. “What kind of escort?” Claire mimed fangs. Michael rolled his eyes. “Perfect. Who?”
“No idea. All I know is Amelie’s letter said we had to clear our departure time with Oliver.”
Michael kept on frowning. He reached for his cell phone and dialed as he sipped more coffee. “It’s Michael,” he said. “I hear we have to clear leaving town with you. We’re planning on going tonight, around dusk.”
His face went entirely blank as he listened to whatever Oliver said on the other end. Michael didn’t say anything at all.
Finally, he put the coffee cup down and said, “Do we have a choice?” Pause. “I didn’t think so. We’ll meet you there.”
He hung up, carefully laid the cell phone down on the table next to his coffee, and sank back in his chair, eyes closed. He looked—indescribable, Claire decided. It was as if there were so many things inside him fighting to come out that he couldn’t decide which one to let off the leash first.
“What?” she finally asked, half afraid to even try.
Eyes still shut, Michael said, “We’ve got an escort, all right.”
“Who?”
“Oliver.”
Claire set down her own coffee cup with a thump that slopped brown liquid over the rim. “What?”
“I know.”
“We have to be trapped in a car with Oliver?”
“I know.”
“So much for the fun. Fun all gone.”
He sighed and finally opened his eyes. She knew that look; she remembered it from when she’d first met him. Bitter and guarded. Hurt. Trapped. Then, he’d been a ghost, unable to leave this house, caught between human and vampire.
Now he was just as trapped, only instead of the house, his boundaries were the town limits. He’d felt, for the last few hours, as if he could break free, be someone else.
Oliver had just taken that away from him.
“I’m sorry,” Claire said. He shut the computer, unplugged it, and stood up. He didn’t meet her eyes again.
“Be ready at six,” he said. “Tell Shane. I’ll tell Eve.”
She nodded. He kept his head down as he walked toward the kitchen door. When he got there, he stopped for a few seconds without turning back to look at her. “Thanks,” he said. “Sucks, you know?”