“No, I’m not telling you either. But before I do this, I have to know if this is the right thing to do. I need to know what Dusk saw, or what he felt, or what he sensed. If it’s as bad as I think it is, then I’ll go through with this dangerous thing because it’ll be my only option. If it isn’t as bad as I think, I won’t. Simple as that.”
Caelan turned away, and didn’t speak for a long time.
“Fine,” he said at last. “But afterwards, it would probably be best if we never saw each other again.”
“That’s a bit dramatic, isn’t it?”
“Perhaps.”
“But that’s stupid. Why should we never see each other?”
“You say that like you’d miss me.”
“Of course I’d miss you. You’re my friend.”
“No, I’m not.”
She frowned. “You’re not?”
“You and me could never just be friends, Valkyrie. We were fated to either be nothing to each other, or everything.”
She stared at him, struggling to make sense of what he was saying. “Uh …”
“Eloquent as usual.”
“I mean … Caelan, I’m with Fletcher. And I like Fletcher, and I don’t want to hurt you, but I … I don’t know how I feel about you. This is a bit of a surprise to me, to be honest.”
“You truly didn’t know how I felt?”
“I really and truly didn’t. I’m sorry if you think I did.”
“I see.”
She looked at him as he stepped back. “And now I feel awful.”
“Don’t,” said Caelan.
“I can’t help it. Do you … I hope you don’t think I was leading you on, or anything.”
He shook his head, but kept his eyes down. “Of course not. This is my fault.”
“It’s no one’s fault, Caelan. You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s just, you know, I’m with Fletcher, and I never really thought about … the possibility of you.”
“Because I’m a vampire,” he said softly, like he was cursing his very soul.
“That’s part of it,” admitted Valkyrie. “But most of all it’s because I’m sixteen and you’re, like, a hundred.”
“Ah,” he said, cracking a smile. “I’m too old for you.”
“Ever so slightly.”
“And there is no part of you that wonders what it would be like?”
She swallowed. “I didn’t … I didn’t say that …”
“You need me to do this?”
“Yes. I do.”
“Very well.” He stepped up to her, one hand at her shoulder, the other sweeping her hair slowly from her neck. “I’m sorry to say this will hurt.”
“I’ve been bitten before,” said Valkyrie, and gritted her teeth.
Caelan pulled her towards him and she waited. When she was this close to Fletcher, she could feel his warmth, the heat emanating from him with each rapid heartbeat, but there was no warmth coming from Caelan. He was cold as smooth stone. Even though his mouth was a centimetre from her bare skin, she felt no breath. The fingers of his right hand curled in the collar of her jacket, the fingers of his left in her hair. She waited for his teeth. His cold body sagged, and he stepped back.
“I can’t,” he murmured. “I’d tear your throat out.” He took a penknife from his pocket, slid the blade free, and gave it to her. “Just a drop. No more, Valkyrie, OK? I should be able to handle a drop. I think.”
She pressed the blade into the pad of her fingertip, wincing as it pierced the skin. A drop of blood swelled up, and she brushed it with the knife and handed it back to him. Caelan hesitated, then brought the knife to his lips, running his tongue the length of the blade. He worked the blood around in his mouth, and as he did so, he folded the penknife and put it away. His movements were slow and deliberate; his eyes were closed. He swallowed, and licked his lips, like a lion standing over a felled deer.
Valkyrie had a sudden urge to step away.
“Caelan?” she said softly.
He was on her, lifting her off her feet and driving her back, teeth bared and diving for her throat. She twisted in his grip and hit a tree and he moved from her throat to her mouth and kissed her, his mouth crushing against hers. The kiss took her by complete surprise, and she hung there for a long moment before she realised she was kissing him back. She felt her arms wrap round his neck, felt his hard chest press against her. Then something sparked in Valkyrie’s mind.
She pushed off against the tree with one foot while she tripped him with the other. They both fell to the ground, and she rolled off him and got to her feet. She tried to speak, but he was already behind her, his cold hands on her face, turning her head to kiss her again. Valkyrie folded into him, weakness flooding her body, before she forced strength back into it. She broke off the kiss and leaned away.
“This is not going to happen,” she breathed.
“It already is,” he said, his eyes dark.
“What did you see? Caelan! My blood. What did you see?”
He smiled. “Nothing. I tasted your blood and saw nothing.”
“You’re sure?”
“I don’t know what insight Dusk gained, but I gained nothing. The only difference between your blood and anyone else’s is … history.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s old blood. It stretches back to power.”
“To the Last of the Ancients?”
“That’s probably it.” His hand reached out to her and she slapped it away. His smile broadened. “But everyone knows you’re descended from the Ancients. I can’t see why it should come as such a big revelation to Dusk.”
“Maybe he saw something else.”
“Very possible. I’ve changed my mind, you know.”
“About what?”
“About how we should spend some time apart.”
“Caelan …”
“Now I think we should spend more time together.”
“I think I need to go now.”
Valkyrie went to walk by him and he laughed, and grabbed her hand. When she swung back to face him, his laugh was gone. “Fletcher’s a boy,” he said.
“That’s why they call it a boyfriend.”
“We’re meant for each other.”
“Holy God,” she said, “do you always come on this strong?”
Caelan looked like he was about to sneer, then he frowned, and backed off. “I told you,” he murmured, looking away. “I’m not … I’m not always in control.”
Valkyrie took the opportunity to hurry away.
“Thank you,” she called over her shoulder.
Caelan didn’t answer.