Page 19 of Bite Me

How could I forget the words she screamed at me in the middle of the pouring rain? It was the night she ran, and I stayed up all night looking for her. Skipped classes, canceled meetings.

“If you become like him, I never want to see you again.”

How could she understand the pressure that I’m under? And how do you make a now sixteen-year-old understand that you can’t run away from a last name like ours and expect no one to come looking? Everything costs something.

“Promise me right now. You’re the only family I have.”

I said yes. Agreed. Wrapped her in a blanket and found her a good place to live. Somewhere where everything isn’t a competition and she can live without the constant scrutiny of not measuring up. She may never have to pay the cost, but I do.

“I won’t forget. Promise.”

“Good. You should get up and get dressed. You look terrible. Also, I’ll be expecting a name when you get back.”

“Sure, I’ll get right on that.” I hang up and dig my nails into my scalp as I push my hands through my hair.

Why did it have to be me? My older brothers were perfectly moldable to continue the family’s culinary legacy. But only I was born with the talent. If I could go back in time and talk to that stupid, hopeful, cooking-obsessed kid who idolized his grandfather, I’d tell him to pick a different thing to love. Don’t play into their games. Don’t show anyone your talent, because it only gets used against you.

If that little kid could see me now, hungover, staring at the ceiling, and dreading the thought of pulling on that white jacket, he’d never understand.

He’d probably blame me, say I didn’t want it enough.

At least I’ve outgrown that. At twenty-three, I have the sense to know that the real culprit of my own turmoil is Emma and that fucking smell. She’s the only one who’s ever stepped in the way of the path that I’ve been forging since I was a kid.

Somehow, I know deep down in my core that Emma is going to ruin everything.

I adjust in my chair and throw a quick glance behind me. Emma is sitting with her sisters in the dining hall, chatting away, oblivious to the torture she’s inflicting on me. Our eyes meet, and she shifts in her seat, crossing her legs under the table. What might it be like to wrap those legs around my head? I contemplate it for one minute, maybe two, then put an end to it when the thoughts turn to me sinking my teeth into her thigh.

Taking a bite of the peach sitting on my plate, I revert all my attention back to something productive. The sweet taste lingers on my lips, and I lick it off.

I always choose a seat facing the wall because if I don’t, my body instinctively listens for her. Smells for her. Watches. Sometimes, my brain plots and schemes different ways to get a few inches closer to her. My biology is betraying me, though I can’t help it, and I’ve tried every avenue to keep her away from me. It’s even more bizarre that she wants to be in the culinary club. What are the odds that my scent-match would be even remotely interested in the same things as me, to the point where I can’t get even a molecule of peace?

Further evidence that all my issues stem from this one woman.

Her sisters giggle and talk across the room while Parker hovers over them. They smell good too or, well, mostly—Olivia is mated to Parker now, which means his smell covers hers all the time.

Parker is always overpowering everything. He has that effect on a lot of people, and last semester, his grab for a council seat left everyone in an uproar. His recent near-death experience with Olivia is the only reason I’m being nice to him these days. That, and he’s the golden boy of the entirety of Vviveren right now, and opposing him publicly is death to anyone’s social life. Those two are the most famous people in Vviveren, and I’m tired of hearing about it. There’s a whole dedicated tab to them on the forums. “What did Olivia eat for breakfast? Oh, an egg and cheese bagel again? That’s my favorite, too! No way! She’s such a visionary.”

I know better than to pick a fight with Doxlothia’s power couple.

Five other people on the university forum and I (a small, but dedicated group) talked shit about them all last semester and tried to debunk their little relationship charade. That was until the linked mate news came out, and we were all proven wrong—an ego blow, to say the least. It was so obvious, seeing them together after. I deleted my account and left the other trolls in the dungeon. In my defense, linked mates are incredibly rare, and it’s not as if vampires even have mates, let alone mystically linked ones. The closest we have are scent-matches, and I’m even skeptical of that despite living it. Every day, when I wake up, I have this little hope that her smell will change, and I can forget it ever happened.

I straighten when Parker barrels into a seat next to Zant, his best friend, and they chatter back and forth like a couple of hens. They’re two peas in a pod, though they look nothing alike. Parker dwarfs him in most aspects. He’s an athlete, and Zant is an academic. They must have been friends for a long time; they never shut up when they’re together.

Parker’s hands are empty—he never brings his fucking notebook or any of his shit to any of our council meetings.

“Late again, Owens?” I say.

“Sorry. Anyone got a pen I can borrow? And maybe . . . a piece of paper?”

“I’ve started bringing extra for you.” Zant hands him a pen, his eyes darting to me.

Darien, on my left, rips a piece of paper out of his notebook for him.

Zant is the other full-blooded vampire on the council, along with Darien and me. He’s a funny bastard, so I let him slide when he’s annoying. He’d be a whole lot funnier if he weren’t best friends with Parker. I even backed his nomination during his first year because he talked me into it over dinner.

“Let’s start the meeting. I’ve got shit to do this morning,” I say. The impending doom of speaking face-to-face with my grandfather is souring my mood even more than usual.

“Agreed. I’ve got something good on the board today!” Parker’s grinning in the morning makes me nauseous.