got cozy with number eleven, didn’t you?” he said.
She sighed. “Why do you always do this?”
“I’m keeping you safe,” he spat.
“Wow,” she said, “I must really be something if every guy I meet is trying to steal me away from you.”
“I saw the way he looked at you,” he said.
“Actually, Clive, he was asking about you,” she said, and all at once, her frustration came rushing back. Of course she would finally meet an interesting boy with the same birthday as her, only to have Clive obliterate her chances, as always, of the boy ever talking to her again. She sighed, wishing she knew more than just his name.
“Amber, he lost the vial.”
“Then maybe you shouldn’t have stolen it from your dad.” Amber relished the wounded flare in Clive’s eyes. To torment him even more, she smiled sweetly, twirling her hair around her finger, and decided he would be the one who looked away first.
But Clive leaned over her instead, and his breath prickled her eyelashes. “You’re going to be powerful because of who I am.”
Amber rolled her eyes and gazed out her window. “Do you think I care?” she said.
“Look at me,” he whispered.
She didn’t say anything, just stared straight ahead.
“Look at me!”
Finally, skin crawling, she faced him.
“You’re pure blood,” he whispered, “mixed with mine—imagine our inheritance, Amber.”
And then, while she was still glaring at him, he came the last few inches and kissed her. She let him, because it was easier to surrender the little things. Because she knew the part of her that resisted him was wearing out, and eventually there would be nothing left.
She used to think Clive was sexy in a scarred up, feral kind of way, but now it hardly mattered what he looked like. What frightened her was the part inside, the part she could taste.
When Clive had finished, Amber edged away from him and let her hair fall between them, though she could feel his gaze lingering. She knew it was miserable for him, knowing she never kissed back, knowing he would never feel her lose control and really kiss him.
“Amber, you get to have everything,” he said. “Start appreciating it.” He climbed out and slammed the door.
Amber sat in her car for a whole minute, her stomach squirming, before she pulled out and drove home.
She hardly paid attention to the road. The yellow paint strip slithered into the darkness, and as her VW Bug squealed around a corner, she half wished the tires would slip. She shot down a dark straightaway and the gas pedal bottomed out under her toes. As the car’s speed pressed her into the seat, gnarled branches of oak trees swung past her. The moon flickered, faster and faster.
She closed her eyes.
You get to have everything. Start appreciating it.
Amber kept her eyes closed, and she knew it would be too late to slow down once her headlights illuminated the next corner, too late to make the turn.
She knew what Clive would say, her father, her mother, Clive’s father, everyone who said they cared about her. Amber. You’re much too important. Don’t you dare be reckless.
But the rush made her dizzy, tingly all over, lightheaded. It was so easy not to look, like falling asleep—like being held.
Then her mind returned to Aaron Harper, the strange boy who’d shown up out of nowhere and made things interesting for a night.
She opened her eyes—and slammed on the brakes. The car shuddered and threw her forward. Her heart squashed against the inside of her chest as the vehicle sank toward the edge of the road.
Then silence.
Her headlights blazed two feet from the trunk of an oak tree. Two feet, that’s how close she had come. Slowly, Amber let out a breath, which she realized she’d been holding the entire time. Feeling numb, she reversed and got back on the road. She was full of helium, practically floating away already.
Who was he? Okay, so he was gorgeous. Amber shivered when she remembered his dangerous, jet black eyes. In her entire life, she had never been so devastated by a stare.
Nor had she met anyone else who dreaded turning eighteen like she did. And their shared birthdays . . . Her heart had been racing since he told her.
But years ago, Amber had resolved never to get her hopes up; it was easier that way, and a random guy she’d just met at a bonfire was not about to change that.
She already knew her fate.
TWO
26 Days, 3 hours, 59 minutes
A burst of rap