Prom Nights from Hell(11)
And okay, sure, he only asked me because he obviously feels sorry for me, on account of my mother being a vampire and all. But still.
«Hmmm?» I say, smiling up at him.
«Uh.» Adam seems uncomfortable, for some reason. «I was wondering if-you know, when this is all over, and you've dusted Drake, and Lila and Ted are back together-you'd want to, um…»
Oh God. What's happening? Is he… is he about to ask me out?. Like on a real date? One that doesn't include sharp, pointy objects?
No. This isn't happening. This is a dream or something. In a minute, I'm going to wake up, and it's all going to go away. Because how could such a thing even be possible? I can't breathe, I'm so sure I'll break whatever spell we're both under if I do…
«Yes, Adam?» I ask.
«Well.» He can't seem to make eye contact anymore. «Just if you'd want to, you know, maybe hang out-«
«Excuse me.» The deep voice that interrupts Adam then is all too familiar. «But may I have this dance?»
I close my eyes in frustration. I cannot believe this. I am never going to get a guy I actually like to ask me out at this rate. Never. Never. Never. I am going to stay a freak-the product of similar freaks-for the rest of my life. Why would a guy like Adam Blum ever want to go out with me in the first place? The child of a vampire and a mad scientist? Let's face it. Not going to happen.
And I've had it. I've had it up to here.
«Listen, you,» I say, whirling around to face Sebastian Drake, whose blue eyes widen a little at the fire in mine. «How dare you come oozing around…»
But then my voice trails off. Because suddenly all I can see are those eyes…
… those hypnotically blue eyes, which suddenly make me feel like I could dive into them, letting their warmth wash over me in sweet, soft waves…
It's true he's no Adam Blum. But he's looking at me in a way that makes it clear he knows that, and that he's sorry for it, and that he's going to do everything he can to make it up to me… more than make it up to me, even…
And the next thing I know, Sebastian Drake is taking me into his arms-gently, so gently-and leading me from the dance floor toward a set of French doors through which I can see a night-darkened garden, bathed in twinkling fairy lights and moonlight… just the kind of place to which you'd expect to be led by the golden-haired descendant of a Transylvanian count.
«I'm so glad we finally have the chance to meet,» Sebastian is saying to me in a voice that seems to caress me like a feather-soft touch. Everyone and everything we've left behind us-the other couples; Adam; a stunned Lila, staring after us jealously; Ted, staring jealously at her; even the streamers and rosettes-seems to melt away as if all that exists in the world is me, the garden that I find myself in, and Sebastian Drake.
Who is reaching up to smooth some loose tendrils away from my face.
In a dim, inner recess of my mind, I remember that I'm supposed to be afraid of him… to hate him, even. Only I can't think why. How could I possibly hate someone as handsome and sweet and gentle as he is? He wants to make me feel better. He wants to help me.
«You see?» Sebastian Drake is saying, as he lifts one of my hands and presses it, softly, against his lips. «I'm not so terrifying, am I? I'm just like you, actually. Just the child of-let's face it-a very formidable person, who's trying to figure out his own place in the world. We have our burdens, do we not, you and I, Mary? Your mother says hello, by the way.»
«M-my mother?» My brain seems to be as filled with fog as this garden we're standing in. Because while I can picture my mother's face, I can't remember how Sebastian Drake could possibly know her.
«Yes,» Sebastian says, his lips now moving from my hand and up toward the crook of my elbow. His mouth feels like liquid fire against my skin. «She misses you, you know. She doesn't understand why you won't join her. She's so happy now… she doesn't know the pain of illness… or the indignity of aging… or the heartbreak of loneliness.» His lips are on my bare shoulder now. I'm having trouble breathing. But in a good way. «She is surrounded by beauty and love… just like you could be, Mary.» His lips are by my throat. His breath, so warm, has seemed to cause my spine to go limp. But it's all right, because one of his strong arms has gone around my waist, and he's holding me up, even as my body, as if of its own volition, is arching backward, allowing him an unobstructed view of my bare throat.
«Mary,» he whispers against my neck.