Melissa de la Cruz - Bloody Valentine

It was just a kiss, but already she knew there would be more.

Ben murmured. “Took you long enough to come around, Legs.”

“Mmm…” she agreed. She had wanted to take it slow. But what was the harm? He was only human. It was only a flirtation; at most he would end up her familiar. She had had many of those in her immortal lifetimes.

Allegra was still glowing from Ben’s kiss when she returned to her dormitory, only to run into her brother.

“Where have you been?” Charles demanded. “I’ve been looking for you. You weren’t at the Committee meeting tonight.”

“Oh? Was that tonight? I forgot. I was busy.”

“With what? Don’t tell me you became a member of that asinine society of theirs?” he sneered.

“It’s not stupid, Charlie. I mean, of course it’s silly, but it’s not stupid. There’s a difference,” she retorted.

“It’s just a sad human copy of the Committee. We were here first.”

“Maybe.” She shrugged. “But they throw much better parties.”

“What’s happened to you?” Charles implored.

For a moment Allegra pitied him. “Nothing. Charlie. Please. Not here.” She shook her head again.

“Allegra, we need to talk.”

“There’s nothing to talk about. What’s there to talk about?”

“Cordelia…she’s coming for Parents’ Day on Sunday.”

“Then tell Mother I said hello.” With that, Allegra vanished into the dormitory without another word. The night had held so much promise. For a while there, joking around with the Peithologians, kissing Bendix, she had been able to believe that she was just an ordinary sixteen-year-old girl. But one conversation with Charles dispelled any remaining delusions that she might actually be able to have some fun in this lifetime.

The only thing Charles Van Alen liked about his mother, his cycle mother, really, was that Cordelia was the only one in his life who did not call him by that stupid nickname.

“Charles, I was under the impression that your sister would be joining us today,” she said as she poured him tea. It was Parents’ Day, and the campus was empty, as the sponsors of the entire enterprise—those who paid the exorbitant tuition—came to visit their progeny and treat them to a meal at the town’s more expensive dining establishments. Cordelia had arrived in a town car earlier that afternoon and taken Charles straight to high tea at the most prestigious hotel.

He leaned back in his uncomfortable chair. Why was it women insisted on this ridiculous practice? “I left her a note the other night to remind her. But she’s been…preoccupied lately.”

“Is that so?” Cordelia pursed her lips. She was small and birdlike, but her tongue was sharp; and even though she had diminished status in the Conclave, she still wielded enough power to have been assigned to foster him for this cycle. “Do tell, with what is our Allegra so distracted?”

Charles glowered. “She has a new boyfriend…one she might make a familiar.” He would never admit to feeling jealousy over a Red Blood, but he couldn’t take much more. First, her cool indifference. Now the unmistakable distaste. Allegra was slipping away from him, and he did not know why. He desperately wanted to hold on to her. It was the only thing he ever wanted.

But it seemed Allegra wanted the total opposite. Leave me alone. Not here. Go away. Those were the only words she ever said to him now. He couldn’t stand it. It was as if she hated him. Why? What had he done? Nothing but love her. He did not want to admit to Cordelia that he did not know where she was spending the weekend, that he did not know where she was, and he was damned if he was going to sink to the level of using the glom to try to find out. Allegra was his heart. She should come to him. She should want to be with him. And yet she did not. She made that all too clear.

“It’s a mere infatuation. Just the bloodlust. Nothing to worry about,” Cordelia assured. “You should let her be. She’s had a hard time of it.”

Charles knew what his mother meant—that Gabrielle needed time to heal. Even though Florence was but a distant memory, the pain from it—the ghastly action he had taken—of course, Lawrence was to blame, too—still lingered. It had been almost five hundred years already. Would she never be the same? She didn’t even know the whole truth of it.

“The more you squeeze, the more she will squirm. It is best to let her make her own choice. She will choose you.”

“There’s something different about it this time,” he said doubtfully, stirring his tea. “I fear that…she might actually love this one.”

“Nonsense. He’s human. It’s nothing. You know that,” Cordelia argued. “It’s just a bit of fun. She’ll come back to you. She always does. Trust me on this one, Charles. You must let it run its course. Do not interfere; it will only lead to more estrangement between the two of you. Allegra needs her freedom right now.”

“I hope you’re right, Mother,” Charles said darkly. “I shall stand aside for now. But if you’re wrong about this, I shall never forgive you.”

Girls were not allowed in the boys’ dorms after hours, and Allegra had to sneak in through the fire exit. It was easy enough to jump from the ladder to the ledge and knock on the windowsill.

“How’d you get up here?” Bendix asked, helping her inside. “That’s not an easy climb.”

She smiled. It was easy enough for a vampire, but of course he could not know that. She looked around his room, which was a tornado as usual. Boys. “Where’s your roommate?”

“I sent him out. I had a feeling you were coming to visit.” He smiled, walking over to the stereo to put on some music. None of that Grateful Dead stuff or Van Morrison, thank goodness. It was Miles Davis. Bitches Brew .

Allegra sat on his bed, feeling shy suddenly. Even though they had kissed enough times over the course of a month that her mouth regularly felt bruised as a fruit, she still felt nervous about what she was about to do. So instead of looking at him, she investigated his bookshelves. There was a print on his wall. Not a poster. A lithograph. “You like Basquiat?”

“He’s bit overhyped right now, but yeah.”

“Didn’t take you for a collector.”

“I guess you just don’t know me that well,” he said, sitting on the office chair at his desk. He was wearing a white lacrosse T-shirt and boxer shorts, and his hair was wet from a shower.

“What are you doing way over there?” she asked, patting the empty space next to her.

He moved to sit next to her, and they snuggled together; and she pulled him close so she could smell the wonderful, boyish smell of him, of laundry detergent and Ivory soap and just a hint of aftershave.

“Hey,” Ben said, hovering over her. He removed his T-shirt, tossing it to the side of the room. His chest was broad, hard to the touch, sculpted and defined. Allegra thrilled to run her hands over his skin.

She was about to remove her top when he stopped her. He took her hands and gently pushed them away, and then with his teeth he unbuttoned each of her pajama buttons. She laughed when he looked surprised to see a camisole underneath.

“Tricky.”

“I thought it shouldn’t be too easy, right?”

“Hmmm.”

He pushed off the straps of the camisole and then his head was on her chest, and she tugged him forward so that her hand was on the waistband of his shorts. She kissed his neck and his chest and felt the entire length of his body press against hers, and she wrapped her legs around his waist.

Neither of them spoke, and then Allegra whispered, “There’s something you don’t know about me.”