Rachel Vincent - Blood Bound

“I am with you.” She kissed me to punctuate her point. “But they’re my best friends. “

“From high school. That was years ago. “

“Some bonds last forever, Cam. “

I was kind of hoping she’d say that .

“Thanks for coming.” She turned to pick up her drink from the corner of an end table. “Even if you do look like you’d rather be skinned alive. “

“Not skinned …” I muttered, as she returned a greeting from some tall, fair-haired guy I didn’t recognize. “But maybe shot.” The last-minute party invitation had derailed my plans for the evening, but I had a backup plan—an empty room, a quiet moment and the small but clear diamond in my pocket. I kept touching it, to make sure it was still there, and every time I thought about it, I got a little queasy and a little high on adrenaline .

I glanced at my watch, and that adrenaline surged again. Half an hour to go …

She would say yes. I wasn’t worried about that. I’d planned and I’d waited, to make sure everything was right. We’d both finished college. Her parents liked me. She was still waiting tables and I was still selling tools, but I had a big interview scheduled, and her prospects were endless. The real jobs would come, and until then, we’d call our tiny apartment cozy and joke that we could make our own warmth when the car’s heater gave out again .

But all that was icing. She’d say yes because she wanted me as badly as I wanted her. I could see that every time she looked at me. I could taste it in every hungry kiss and feel it in every fevered touch. This was right . We were right .

“That’s Kori’s brother, Kristopher,” she said, as the blond guy saluted us with an open beer. “This is his house. “

Had he looked at her a little too long? Smiled a little too much? My arms tightened around her before I realized what I was doing. “Were you two a couple? “

“Kris?” Liv laughed and twisted to whisper into my ear. “You jealous?” She bit lightly on my earlobe .

“Mmm … Should I be?”

“Nah. When I was fifteen, we made out in his basement once, for, like, two minutes. Then Kori found us and threatened to kick the crap out of us both if she ever saw that again.”

“Which one’s Kori?” I asked, looking over her shoulder again when she turned and pressed her back against my chest .

“The one in the corner.”

I followed Liv’s gaze to an athletic woman with white-blond hair, pouring from a bottle of vodka as if she’d started waaay before her last birthday. “I like her already.”

Liv laughed. “Yeah, that’ll last until the first time you piss her off. Noelle, though—you’d like Elle. “

“The brunette? She seems like fun.” She sat surrounded by a crowd, cracking them up with some animated story I couldn’t hear .

“She is. Elle’s supersmart, but she skipped college in favor of travel. I was always kind of jealous of that.” Liv sighed. “She always said she wanted to live life instead of learning about it.”

“But if you’d skipped college, we never would have met,” I pointed out. “Then we’d both be miserable for the rest of our lives, with no idea why.”

Liv laughed. “Another tragedy averted by the lure of a state-school education.”

“What’s up with Anne tonight?” I asked, as the redhead—the only one of Liv’s friends I’d spent any time with—staggered past us with a full plastic cup .

“Another breakup. It must suck to know when people are lying.”

I shrugged. “I guess. But it’d be convenient to know when they aren’t, right? “

“After hearing Anne cry, I’m starting to think that doesn’t happen much anymore.” Her frown deepened. “And I kind of want to break some asshole’s face. “

I held her tighter, just because I could. Because she was fierce, and beautiful, and mine .

“After the countdown, let’s go outside. Kris has a telescope, and there are no clouds tonight …”

“It’s freezing out there.”

Liv smiled. “I’ll keep you warm. “

“I’ll let you.” Outside was fine with me. The party was too crowded for my taste anyway .

I glanced at my watch again. Eleven forty-eight. My pulse rushed so fast I spent the next few seconds mentally tallying my drinks. But it wasn’t the alcohol, and it wasn’t the party. It wasn’t the wintertime freeze or even the way Olivia felt in my arms, as if nothing could go wrong as long as I was holding her. It was the look in her eyes, as if there was no one in the room but me .

And in twelve minutes, that would be true. In twelve minutes, our lives would change for the better. Forever .

“Hey, looks like you ‘re out.” I looked pointedly at her plastic cup .

“No, I’m—” she began, glancing down into the dark liquid .

I snatched the cup from her and drained it in one swallow, barely tasting the whiskey mixed with her soda. “Now you are.”

She shoved me, but couldn’t quite pull off a frown. “You owe me a refill.”

I grinned. “Be right back.”

I headed toward the makeshift bar until I was sure she’d lost sight of me, then veered toward the front door, dropping her empty cup in the trash on the way. Outside, the wind cut through my sweater like needles and my feet slid on muddy slush .

Three cars down from the crowded driveway, I unlocked my trunk and carefully unwrapped the spare blanket to reveal a bottle of champagne—the best I could afford—and two tall glass flutes .

It had to be perfect. This would be the beginning of the rest of our lives, and I wanted to get it right. We would count down toward midnight together, then I’d show her the ring when the party crowd shouted the number three. I would ask her to marry me at the stroke of midnight, and then every year after, no matter what time zone we were in, we would celebrate the New Year at that exact moment. Because we wouldn’t just be celebrating the beginning of a new calendar year—we’d be celebrating the beginning of our lives together .

The ring and the wedding ceremony were formalities, to make everyone else happy. The promise was for us. Our word. Our binding. Our future .

Carrying the champagne in one hand, the glasses in the other, I ducked into the house as someone else was coming out, ignoring the raised eyebrows and whispers as I made my way through the crowd, scanning the faces to make sure Olivia wasn’t watching .

She wasn’t. She was talking with her friend Noelle—evidently the only sober friend she had—and they both looked upset. But that wouldn’t last long. No longer than the next ten minutes, by my guess …

At the end of the hall, I pushed open the door to the home office I’d scouted out earlier. The only other choice had been Kris’s bedroom, which would have been weird, at best. I set the champagne on the computer desk and arranged the glasses on either side of it. Then I closed the office door and made my way back to the party .

Noelle walked off as I approached, and I couldn’t interpret the look she gave Liv. Olivia was crying .

“Hey, what’s wrong?” I tried to pull her close. But she stepped out of reach, tears standing in her eyes. “This isn’t going to work, Cam.”

“I know. I just set up a little private party for us, back there …” I tried to guide her through the crowd but she wouldn’t move .