A Demon's Kiss (Young Adult Romance) (11 page)

He nodded tersely. “Yeah. So, you want me to take you to school?”

“Uh,” I felt awkward. And trapped. Gage had just told me how hard it was for him to see me with Logan. And now I was going to hop in the car with Logan?—leave Gage alone? Hurting?

I didn’t know what to do. I wasn’t used to this kind of situation, at all. I was torn. I liked them both.
So
much. I didn’t want to hurt either of them. But, technically, Logan was my boyfriend, and I could tell he was mad, super mad, even though he was trying to act like he wasn’t.

But his jaw was clinched, and there was a vain in his neck, throbbing.

Basically, he was furious.

So, without saying anything comprehensible, I started to get out of Gage’s car. But Gage put his hand on the crook of my arm, silently stopping me from leaving. Surprised, I turned back to him, stirred as he gazed into my eyes. In silence he leaned into me. Tingles ran through my body as he whispered in my ear, “Don’t back off.”

CHAPTER 15

I got into Logan’s car on shaky feet, wondering why he had to show up
now
. It wasn’t that I wasn’t glad to see him exactly. Or that I wasn’t flattered that he’d come looking for me. I was. Sorta. On both counts. Only, Gage and I were having a moment. A magical moment. And I’d wanted it to go on, forever. I never wanted it to end.

Finally Gage had said things I’d only dreamed of him saying. Finally it seemed as though maybe we would get together. Finally! But then, drat it! Out of nowhere—Logan!

Geez!

Logan’s eyes were drinking me in. He didn’t look mad anymore. I’d made the decision he’d wanted. He won. He looked happy about that.

“I missed you,” he said. And suddenly his arms were around me and we were kissing and it was good, felt good. But I kept thinking about Gage. “Don’t back off,” he’d whispered.
Don’t back off
.

***

Tonight Izzie came over to help me get ready for the dance. The dance! Hurray! Finally! It was hard for me to sit still while Izzie worked her magic on me, making me dance-date worthy.
The dance!
I did a little dance myself every time I thought about it. Only, I wasn’t quite as jazzed about it as I’d been earlier. Before today. Before Gage told me, “Don’t back off.”

But, still, I was excited to be going. And excited I was going with Logan...sort of. Only, now there was Gage drifting through my mind too, big time. Gage who it killed to see me with Logan. Gage with his tender, sweet kisses.

No!
I wouldn’t think about Gage. Not tonight. Tonight I only wanted to think about Logan. My date.

But tomorrow—tomorrow I’d think about Gage. Definitely. All day long. Forever and ever.

When Izzie was done with my make-up and hair, she handed me a mirror. She watched me look into it, smiling. “Not bad, huh?”

My jaw practically dropped. She had me looking like a model. No joke. I was gorgeous! I stood admiring myself in Summer’s full-length mirror. “You made me pretty.”

“What are you talking about?” Izzie mocked indignation. “I made you
beautiful
.”

I grinned, still staring at myself. “Yeah.”

When Logan came to pick me up he looked so hot I about melted. “Nice tux,” I said. He raised his eyebrows. “Nice dress.”

I did a little curtsey. “Thanks—for the compliment
and
the dress.”

He grinned. “Good investment.”

Izzie had us pose for pictures. Then she snapped off about a hundred. They were for Beth so I endured. Not that I didn’t secretly want every one of them anyway, but Beth was a good excuse.

Of course, Beth had wanted to be home tonight. She had cried, “I wanted to take pictures of you going to your first dance.” But she had to go out of town on business. She couldn’t get out of it. I was really touched, though, that she wanted to, that she tried. I felt bad that I’d given her such short notice. I didn’t know it was going to be such a big deal to her.

When Izzie was finished with our photo shoot, she left with a parting message, “Ravish him,” she whispered in my ear, then added, “and give me details in the morning.”

I nodded, planning to do half of that at least. I wasn’t sure I’d actually give her details.

Then Logan had me slide my arm through his and we were off to the dance.

“Don’t you have a sister?” Logan asked, as he helped me into his car.

“No,” I wanted to say,
wished
I could say. But instead I just corrected him. “Half. I have a
half
-sister. Summer—do you know her?”

Logan looked kind of unsure for a moment, then he shook his head.

“Well, she knows you,” wanted to pop out of my mouth. But I held it back. I didn’t want to talk about Summer. I didn’t even want to think about Summer.

“I was just wondering where she was,” Logan said.

“She’s double dating with her friend, Sara.” I smoothed down my dress, trying to make it a little longer than it actually was. “Sara’s super rich,” I babbled on, just ‘cause I was nervous. “So Summer practically lives at her house. I think she pretends it’s her house. And that she doesn’t have a sister.”

Logan grinned. “Half sister.”

“Right.” I was silent for a moment, but then, of course, I babbled on, “But it seems weird that we’re even that—half-sisters. Half-way related. Summer and I, we’re completely different. It’s like we’re from two different worlds.”

Logan glanced over at me when I said that, and we almost hit a bus.

I slid down in my seat. “Yikes!”

For not wanting to talk about Summer, I’d sure talked about her a whole, whole lot. I decided to change the subject. “What kind of music do you like?”

Logan glanced at me a moment, then popped in a C.D. It was Metallica. I smiled, “No way!”

“They rock!” he said.

“Yeah, they rock,” I agreed, still staring at him in amazement. Logan was a Metallica fan?

This could be love.

***

We ate at a fancy French restaurant that I couldn’t pronounce the name of to save my life. And it was expensive! And fancy. It had valet parking and everything.

Once we were inside, I looked around the dimly lit room with fascination, and butterflies.

“Are you sure you want to eat here?” I asked, knowing how much this was going to run him—well, not really. I had no clue, but I knew it would be tons. And sure, I figured it would be kind of exciting and fun (knowing Summer would drool when she heard) and I knew Logan was rich. But I liked him already, he didn’t have to impress me. Plus, I was worried my table manners weren’t up to snuff. At home we ate off of paper plates as often as not, and what about the silverware? I knew there would be two forks—the smaller one for the salad. But what else did I need to know?

The question had me stressing. Plus, all the tables were lit by candlelight. What if I spazzed out and accidently started the place on fire?

Logan had a teasing gleam in his eyes. He grinned, “I thought we should stay away from sea-food.”

Ha! I couldn’t help grinning back. “Why? You have something against emergency rooms?”

He shook his head slightly, looking serious. “I just thought you might like going to the dance.”

I blinked, feeling butterflies again. He couldn’t possibly know how much I wanted to go. I’d never been to a school dance, never, ever. And I know it sounds lame, but I’d secretly always wanted to. Of course, I’d always fantasized that it would be with Gage. But still, going to the dance—it was huge. To me.

I chewed on my lip, glad that the hostess chose that moment to tunnel in on us. “Your table is ready,” she said, expecting us to follow her, so we did, and I didn’t have to say anything.

The meal was yum, and Logan was fun, as we talked, I discovered he liked the same things as me. The
same
things: my favorite bands, my favorite video games, the guitar. By the end of the meal, I was drooling.

“Why do you keep looking at me like that?” he asked as he ordered us a chocolate soufflé to share for dessert.

“Because I love you!” I was tempted to blurt, but I held it inside. Because, because I wasn’t really sure that’s how I felt. I mean, I’m sure I would have felt that way if Gage hadn’t whispered in my ear all tender and sweet, “Don’t back off.” But he did whisper it, and really, I loved Gage. I did. There was no denying that, so it seemed wrong to tell Logan, “I love you,” when really I loved Gage. But it was confusing, because I had strong feelings for Logan, like a crush or something.

But I wouldn’t have told him I loved him anyway. I heard girls aren’t supposed to do that, get all gushy; it scares guys off. And even if I hadn’t heard that, I wouldn’t have done it anyway, probably, I don’t think, I’m not really the gushy type.

After we finished eating, I realized I’d forgotten my wrap in the restaurant. It was beautiful and Izzie’s. So...Logan went back in to get it, and I stayed in the car, looking for his cell phone. I wanted to call Izzie and tell her where I ate, and what I ate. She had said she wanted details, right?

I opened Logan’s glove box. But I didn’t find his cell phone. I forgot all about it, instantly. ‘Cause instead I found pictures, tons and tons of pictures. My blood ran cold as I gazed at them in horror. The pictures—they were all …

Of me.

I stared at them, confused. What?

Why?

They were all candid shots. Different ones. Of me playing the guitar, laughing with Izzie, crossing the street. There was so many. It was crazy.

Rifling through them, I only found one that wasn’t of me. It was old, and worn thin. It was of a young boy smiling. He was around seven or eight with jet-black hair, and startling green eyes. It was obviously Logan. He had his arm around a girl about the same age. Maybe younger. She grinned happily into the camera.

“Smile pretty for momma!”

The words floated through my brain. I looked closer at the picture, studied it. Slowly, a chill ran through me.

The little girl—was me.

CHAPTER 16

I scrambled out of Logan’s Mustang. What was going on? I had no idea, but it was bad. Very, very bad. I could feel it, knew it down to my bones.

Logan had all those pictures of me,
all those pictures
, like he was stalking me, hunting me. And it didn’t start the night he came into Posh, the night he bought that dress, he had pictures from before that night. It was like he had been following me around a long, long time, watching, taking pictures—picture after picture after picture—pictures of me with Gage, pictures of me with Izzie, picture, picture, picture, picture. I had to get away.

Hide, hide, hide!

The trouble was, as I was scrambling out of Logan’s Mustang, Logan came back. He had Izzie’s wrap in one hand and a red rose in the other. When he saw me making my escape, he furrowed his brow, then darted after me. Agghhhh! My heart exploded in my chest.

I took off in a full run, but Logan caught me around the waist before I left the parking lot. Stupid shoes!

“Let me go!” I clawed at him, trying to break free of his strong grip, but it was no use. He just tightened his hold, hurting me. I kicked at him, screaming, “Let me go! Let me go! Let me go!”

He just shook his head, looking grim. And bewildered. “Why are you afraid of me now? What happened?” He held onto my shoulders, making me look into his eyes. “Michaela, why are you running away?”

It made me sick to say it. I didn’t want to say it, but he seemed to have some power over me, “The pictures—”

“Pictures?” He narrowed his eyes, looking confused. Then he set his jaw, seeming to get it. I’d seen his whacked-out photo collection of me.

I was still trying to get away from him, clawing and tugging and scratching. But he held on to me as though he didn’t even notice my resistance. His jaw was still set as he stared at me with hard, dark eyes.

I clawed at him, angry and frightened, “Why do you have all those pictures?”

Logan didn’t answer. Instead, he dragged me toward his car. But no way was I getting back in that thing. Not with him. Not ever. No way.

“I mean it, Logan,” I warned. “Let me go!”

He grabbed both my shoulders again, making me look up at him. “Or what?!”

I looked into his eyes—they were challenging, and full of pain. I didn’t want to hurt him. I really didn’t. But I would, if I had to. He was trapping me, scaring me. I would do whatever I had to do to get away, even if it meant using my powers.

Logan shook his head in resignation, letting me go. “Take my car then,” he said softly. Then he added, “You have until tomorrow.”

I froze.

Until tomorrow for what?

I didn’t ask though. With my pulse racing, I shot away, making a B-line toward his car. The keys were still in the ignition. In fact, the car was still idling. I dashed for it in a panic, unable to grasp anything that had just happened. He was letting me go? Free? I didn’t have to fight him?

“Tomorrow at sunrise,” he called after me.

His words made no sense. Shaking, I got into his car. The tires screeched as I sped away. And there Logan stood, at the end of the parking lot, watching me go. Why’d he do that? Why’d he let me leave? Take his car? I glanced over at the pile of pictures that were now scattered all over his Mustang’s floor. What was going on?