“Charmed by my sass, are you?” I asked nonchalantly, stirring my soup to let it cool.
She crossed her arms over her chest. “What am I supposed to do with you?”
I met her eyes and saw the amusement she was trying to hide. I smiled wide and felt my lip split back open. I licked it, tasting blood. “Ow.”
The vampire blood tended to speed up healing, so I grabbed my glass for a sip of my drink. But I couldn’t help my convulsive swallowing, and my sip turned into a chug.
“That’s the way,” Amanda said. “You’re young to be going on a mission. You’ll need all the strength you can get.”
The taste of chilled blood mixed with the taste of blood on my lip, like metal on metal, and a shot of pleasure shivered over my skin in goose bumps. So weird. If I managed to escape while I was off-island, would my body miss the drink? Would I crave it after I’d gone? I tried not to think about it.
I slammed the glass down in pretend triumph. “Now, about my new roommate?”
Surely I wouldn’t be so lucky as to get a single room for much longer. And, in a strange way, I kind of wanted a new girl to move in. The room felt empty, and it creeped me out to see Lilac’s stripped bed in the corner. That stark, gray mattress ticking. The gray and white bed linens, cleaned and folded on top. It was a constant reminder that I’d killed a girl.
Girls, rather. I’d killed girls to survive.
“Well, dolly,” Amanda said, “you won’t get your new roomie till the next crop of recruits arrives.”
“Nice word choice.” I nodded sagely, thinking how the vamps devoured and discarded us like husks of corn. “You know, we are like crops.”
She gave me a baffled look. “If you say so.”
I spotted my friend Emma. “And here comes corn-fed right now.” Her hair was slicked down, looking a deep russet color. Split lip or no, I realized I was happy to have spent the morning waltzing if it meant not getting thrashed in the surf. “Looks like Tracer Otto had them in the water.”
But then my eyes went to the person coming in behind her. Ronan. Emma went to the lunch line, but he headed straight for us. I sat up straight, the bread a doughy lump in my belly. Ronan had taught my gym class for a whole semester—hell, he’d taught me how to swim—so why did I feel more exposed than ever in my gritty gym uniform?
“Amanda,” he said in greeting. “Annelise.”
My mouth went dry. He was the only person on this island who dared to call me by my first name, and the sound of it never failed to rattle me.
His eyes lingered on me. I tried to read them, but he kept them a careful blank. But they sharpened when he saw my lip. “What—”
I cut him off with a quick “Hi.” Suddenly the last thing I wanted was to get into what had happened, or where I’d been, and with whom. His green eyes were just too intense. At the moment they were flat, with an expression that I swore might’ve been mistaken for sad. And I just didn’t want to deal with sad.
He nodded as though he understood my mind’s silent machinations, and dammit, he probably did.
Amanda shoved her tray aside, making room for him at the end of the table. “Where’ve you been?” She glanced at the dwindling lunch line. “You might want to get some food. It’s slim pickings today.”
But Ronan didn’t grab lunch. Instead, he just sat, holding his steepled fingers in front of him as if considering something. His eyes cut to me for the merest fraction of a second, and then he reached into his pocket, pulling out a folded bit of paper that he slipped to Amanda.
Her face paled, if such a thing could be said of someone with skin the color and sheen of a dark, burnished stone. She swept a quick glance across the room, checking if anyone had seen. “Thanks, luv,” she said, her voice oddly tight.
I looked from Amanda, to Ronan, and back again, and my stomach lurched.
Oh. Just, oh.
Seemed like Amanda and Ronan had a little something-something going on.
CHAPTER FIVE
Between the nasty salad greens and my revelation about Ronan and Amanda, by the time Emma got to the table, my stomach was too knotted to eat.
“Hey.” She methodically put her bag down, pulled her chair out, sat down, placed her napkin on her lap, adjusted her plate and cutlery in a way that appealed to her, and silently set to eating her meat pie.
Emma was acting her typical mute self, when for once I wished she were the sort to go for some good, vapid chitchat.
I stared at my hands. I could’ve used my butter knife to cut the tension between Amanda and Ronan. I cleared my throat. “Hey yourself.”