Page 43 of Inception

“You know her, right? Paula Dawson?” I asked, curious to see if he’d tell me the truth.

His cheek pulled up on one side. “I do.”

“Didn’t you guys date for a while?” I tried feigning nonchalance though my voice hitched up unnaturally at the tail end of the question.

“Yes, I enjoyed her company on a few occasions, though I’d hardly classify that as dating.”

“Right. Okay.” I was trying to be tactful with my inquisition, but the questions just seeped from my mouth like verbal diarrhea. “So...what would you classify it as then?”

“Inconsequential,” he said without missing a beat.

Both his tone and demeanor were detached, unemotional even. I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. On the other hand, I had no reason to doubt that he was being anything but honest with me, however brutal that was for poor Paula.

I skimmed my neck with my fingertips as I thought it over and noted how incredibly sore I still was. I pulled down the sun visor and stole a peak in the mirror, quickly spotting the sickening color of purple my neck was taking on.

Perfect. How on earth was I going to explain this one away? I tripped and fell on a vampire?

And then it hit me.Thatwas the reason Dominic looked at my neck...because it was bruising. Clearly that would have been the logical thing to assume since my neck had just been squeezed to the point of a near larynx dislocation. Jeez, what the heck did I think the reason was going to be anyway?

I closed the visor and relaxed into my seat a little.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

“Great,” I lied. I needed to change the subject. “So, there’s this party next Saturday,” I heard myself say. “It’s a house party for some Spring thing.”

He flashed a crooked grin. “Spring Fling.”

“Yeah, that’s it.”

“What of it, love?” He was smirking now.

I was hoping he wouldn’t actually make me say the words but it appeared that he was enjoying watching me squirm way too much to save me from myself. “Well, being that I’m incident-prone and all,” I said, using his word. “I was wondering if maybe, you know, you’d like to come along...with me?”

The minute the words relayed back to my ears, I winced at them, proving once more I was only a passenger in my own vessel. Desperation, fear, longing—they had all taken the driver’s seat and were apparently asking guys out now. Who was I kidding? I’d probably ask out the entire hockey team if it meant I’d be safe from vampires. At least this option would allow me to spend more time with Dominic.

“Are you asking me out on a date?” He raised an eyebrow.

“No.” I felt my cheeks warm. “I’m pretty sure I never saiddate, I mean...did I? I was just thinking we could—”

“We definitely could.” He cut in with a smirk before I could further embarrass myself. “I’m looking forward to it, angel.”

13. FRIDAY NIGHT LIES

The days following the attack blurred into one another like one long, tangled dream that obliterated any residual semblance of security I might have had left. I found myself hiding in an uncomplicated routine of sorts as I shuffled back and forth between work, school, and home. Long, dragging days broken up only by the finer moments when I’d get to see Dominic.

I had decided not to tell my uncle about the attack last week out of fear that he would use it as another excuse to push the whole Slayerthingdown my throat. I had already told him emphatically that I had no intention of going down that road, and my feelings on that had not changed—attack, or no attack.

But it appeared that even adamant refusal was not enough to deter my uncle from his mission. Where other men might have laid the issue to rest, my uncle instead continued to offer his reassurance that I would have as much time as I needed to come to terms with all of this. As thoughtimewere the problem here. Clearly he was unable to cope with rejection.

Not only was he not dropping the subject of Bloodsuckers and Slayers, but as chance would have it, he was also after a little bit of my blood himself. It was all I could do to stop from leering at him like his neck had spewed two heads overnight when he sat across the table from me at breakfast and casually asked me to provide him with a sample of blood. So he could run some tests. Like it was a completely normal request.

When I asked him why, he hesitated to explain himself, and only stated that he wanted to be sure my bloodlines weren’t damaged, and that I was in fact aSlayer.

“I don’t understand,” I said, feeling as though this was coming out of left field. “What about everything you told me last week—about the Angels, and us being Descendants of them? Was all of that a lie?”

I wasn’t sure what I wanted the answer to be.

“Of course not.”

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