Evanescent - By Addison Moore Page 0,11

more than enjoyed the less than orthodox bodily fluid extraction I’ve performed on him. He’s the Celestra I need to drink from to pry into Wesley’s thoughts in the event he spills all of his deep dark secrets, but he never does.

“It’s still working.” It’s been plain as vanilla listening in on Wesley’s private musings. “I can still hear his thoughts.” Wes is one hundred percent devoted to me. He loves me with a fierceness that rivals the old version of himself, and I didn’t think that was possible.

“It’ll wear off soon.” It comes out dry. “A guy can hope, right?” Coop tucks a smile in the side of his cheek as the class starts to fill with bodies.

I reach down and interlace our fingers.

Coop. I let out a sigh.

He gives a wry smile. Where is the douche anyway?

Ensign meeting.

His forehead wrinkles into three neat lines.

Ephemeral doesn’t have Ensigns. It’s probably a Count thing. This is good. It means he’s trusting you with more information. Ask him about it. See if you can join.

I will. It never occurred to me Wes was doing something that concerned extracurricular evil before breakfast. Speaking of breakfast… I saw Hattie this morning. Don’t you think it’s weird she’s reappeared after all these years?

Hattie and her sister were taken by the Counts over sixty years ago. The rest of her unfortunate family were turned into Spectators without their consent—killed and resurrected for sport. Only the resurrections didn’t last. They decomposed to a partial rigor state and remained so ever since—bedraggled and decaying with time.

I don’t think their mother was taken. Cooper corrects my private thoughts.

That’s right, they mentioned their father, brother, and sister. My thoughts turn to little Lacey—my sweet sister who bottled up her excitement over the fact she was about to turn ten, and now I have no idea if she’s still alive, let alone made it to her birthday.

Marky’s been after me to have you over. You up for a movie? Cooper knows his little sister quells something deep inside of me. I love Marky as if she were my own flesh and blood.

I would really like that. It takes everything in me to keep from tearing up at the thought. This new reality was a malignancy, and Cooper and Marky were the balm.

Coop gives my hand a firm squeeze as if to say thank you.

Mr. Edinger walks in with his cool, ironic swagger, his dark hair slicked back with the tracks from his comb still visible. He gives a private nod in my direction, and this unnerves me.

“Morning class.” It purrs from him with a palpable wickedness that makes my hair stand on end. “Our next collective reading assignment is Animal Farm by George Orwell.”

Animal Farm, I balk.

Coop starts to turn around then pauses. One more thing. His eyes darken as he dips his chin. I’m going to ask Grayson to homecoming.

Cooper

Mr. Edinger takes us down the allegorical road of Orwell’s political thriller while Laken burns a hole through my back the entire live-long hour.

I had to hold back a smile when I saw the look on her face. The idea of me asking Grayson to homecoming wasn’t what she was expecting. Not that I want to take Grayson. I’d much rather go with Laken, and I do plan on stealing a moment, but Grayson makes things believable. It gets Wes off my back and clears the path for Laken to get wherever it is their holding our families.

The bell rings, and a rush of bodies flood out the door.

Crap. I zoned out—not that Edinger has ever had anything enlightening to say. I could pass his class by showing up for tests and doing the work at home.

Laken waits as I scoop up my books before we head out.

“So you up for something midweek?” I ask, trying to ignore the hurt look stamped across her face. Laken is so damn beautiful I feel like an ass for causing her any pain. But I’d be a liar if I didn’t say it sent the adrenaline in me surging. Something about Laken’s disapproval assures me she has feelings for more than just my neck, and selfishly I want it that way. “Wednesday night?”

“Wednesday’s fine.” Her bottom lip extends, her skin breaks out in patches like she’s about to indulge in a nice long cry. Crap. I just want to hold her and tell her I’d rather hang myself by the balls than take Grayson to the library, let alone to the formal, but