Girls That Growl (18 page)

He looks annoyed, but stuffs the pills in his pocket and wraps his hands around my waist. His touch is electric and soon I'm lost in the dance, the music tickling my earlobes and the flashing, colored lights
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seducing my eyes in a spell more powerful than any drug. For the first time in months I just feel good.

Right. Enjoying the moment instead of stressing over every little thing. All my problems seem a million miles away. I'm here. Now. Happy. Forever.

Well, maybe not forever. But for now. And that's good enough.

Orpheus pulls me closer. We grind against each other, gig-gling as we gyrate to the beat. He's so sexy.

So cool. I'm totally in lust. I try to summon up a guilty feeling for Jareth, who's probably sitting alone in his hotel room, watching infomercials or something, but the music prohibits any feelings of remorse. And in any case, what do I care what he thinks? He broke up with me. His choice. So screw him.

We dance for hours, sucking down bottle after bottle of water. (Even vamps need hydration.) I meet several other ravers who hug me and welcome me and offer me lollypops and small toys and stickers. I feel like I'm part of some happy family that's invited me into their home with open arms. No one judges me here. For how I look, how I act, where I come from. They simply accept me into their hazy, drug-induced circle.

Finally Orpheus takes my hand and drags me away from the crowd.

"I need a break!" he says, laughing. "You're unstop-pable."

We walk over to a raging bonfire at the corner of the clearing and sit down on the ground near it. I hold my hands up to feel its warmth. Orpheus gets behind me and starts rubbing my back. "Mmm, that feels good," I purr. "Don't stop."

"Stop rubbing the shoulders of a beautiful girl? Not bloody likely," he says.

I notice the darkness is lifting. The sky lightening to a bruised purple. It's got to be almost dawn. I look at my
Nightmare Before Christmas
watch. Four A.M.

"I've got to get back," I say, though the idea of walk-ing anywhere sounds like such an effort at this point. The dance-fueled adrenaline is fading, draining from my sys-tem, sweating out my pores, and I'm suddenly feeling really gross. My skin feels clammy. My head hurts. My stomach is sick. And mentally I've gone from sky high, to rock-bottom low.

What comes up, must come down.

What was I thinking? How could I have just taken off with a stranger, not telling anyone where I was going? What if Jareth came back to my hotel room? What if he wants to offer me an apology, say he wants to get back together, and then he realizes I'm gone? What if I missed my one chance for reconciliation?

I'm so stupid. So, so stupid.

"Don't go!" Orpheus begs. He stops rubbing my back and scrambles around to face me. He takes my hand in his and brings it to his lips once again, looking up at me with sad eyes. "I've had a lovely night. I don't want to lose you at the break of dawn."

I smile a little. He's sweet. Very Emo. Totally my type. If my heart didn't belong to Jareth, that is. But it does, I realize. And no matter what it takes, no matter how long, I have to get him back.

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"Sorry," I say."Ihave to. I've got things to do, people to see." Ex-boyfriends to reconcile with . ..

"But my love, what could be more important than us being together?" Orpheus asks.

Uh ... I stare at him. That came out a bit creepy sound-ing. But maybe he's just overdramatic.

"Sorry, dude," I say with a shrug. "It's been fun. And I'll never forget my first English rave. But I've got to go. I'm heading back to America this afternoon."

"Iunderstand," Orpheus says, reaching over and pressing a cool hand against my hot cheek. I freeze as he lightly ca-resses my skin, wondering how to back away gracefully. But before I can manage to do so, the boy leans forward and presses his lips against mine.

Panic slams my insides. I can't do this. I don't want to do this. I don't care if Orpheus is totally Goth and hot. All I want is Jareth. Forever and always. Even if he wants to be a surfer dude for the rest of his life.

I gently push Orpheus away. "No," I say. "I can't. I'm sorry."

He frowns, sticking his lower lip out into a pout. "Why not?"

"I'm . . . well, I'm with someone. Sort of."

"I thought you said you'd broken up," he growls, his face darkening.

Argh. Now he's going to think I'm a total tease. Which I am, I guess. I should have never let this get so far. "We did," I say. "But I'm not sure it's for good. I really still love him. Be-ing out here tonight made me realize that. Don't get me wrong—you're great. Totally hot and a lot of fun. But I'm just not. . . well, I'm not over Jareth."

"I see," Orpheus says, his voice ice-cold. "Well, I am sorry to hear that."

"I'm sorry. I really am. I feel bad if I led you on in any way."

"I'll take you back to Appleby," he says stiffly, rising to his feet. "Follow me."

Thank goodness. He's taking this better than I thought he might. Last thing I need is for him to go all psycho on me. Especially when I'm feeling like such crap and have no idea where I am.

So we head back out into the woods, down a narrow trail, and around a bend. I'm glad I have a guide—the landscape looks totally different in the daylight and I'd probably get forever lost in these twisty woods.

We walk and walk. For some reason it seems to be taking a lot longer to get back than I remember it taking to get there in the first place. And I really don't remember going up a steep hill. . .

"Uh, Orpheus?" I question as the woods fall away and I realize we're climbing up what appears to be some sort of mountain. The wind whips through my hair and suddenly I'm freezing cold. I should have worn a jacket at least. "Where are we going? This isn't the way back to Appleby, is it?"

"Shortcut," he explains.

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Hmm. "Shortcut?" I repeat. "Up a mountain?"

"Well, long cut, actually," he confesses. "I wanted to show you something before we go back."

Argh. How annoying. The last thing I want right now is a guided tour of jolly old England. My body is aching and my head is pounding. All I want to do is crash in my warm, soft hotel bed. To find Jareth and apologize and beg him to recon-sider his decision to leave me.

"No offense,Orph . I'm sure what you want to show me is way cool and all, but actually, I'm beat," I attempt. "Maybe I could come see it another time." Or, like, never. Never would be good.

"It's just a few more yards away," Orpheus says. "Then we can head back to Appleby. I promise it's worth it."

"Fine." I trudge a little higher. I mean, what choice do I have? I've not a clue where I am and so I'm dependent on him leading me back. Why, oh, why did I put myself in this situa-tion to begin with?

"Here we are!" Orpheus calls down, way ahead of me at this point. Thank God, I don't have to walk anymore. I may be a vampire, but that doesn't give me the lung capacity of a killer whale by any stretch of the imagination. Especially af-ter a night of dancing.

I walk up to where he's standing and see we've come to a small ledge that leads into a cave, cut into the hillside. I peer in. It's bigger on the inside than I imagined it to be. I can't even see the back wall. I take a step in, checking out the cave paintings on the wall. The overwhelming theme is dogs hunt-ing stuff.

Weird. Though I guess I should be grateful they aren't playing poker. I wonder if this place once housed cave-men or something. Though the paintings don't really look that old. And I doubt they had fluorescent orange paint back in prehistoric days.

"What is this place?" I ask.

"It's where I live," Orpheus says with a smile. "Do you like it?"

Huh? I turn to look at him, confused. "Where you live? You're joking, right? I mean, you can't live here."

"Why not? The cave has everything I need." He twirls around, hands out to accentuate the
everything,
which from my vantage point is not much more than four walls, tacky artwork, and a mound of dirt.

"Shelter, a nearby stream, pro-tection. It's perfect."

Wow, I had no idea the guy I'd partied with was a Goth Grizzly Adams. Very, uh, weird.

"All it needs is a family," Orpheus adds, sounding a bit wistful.

I stare at him, suddenly getting that creepy feeling inside again. "I'd like to go home now," I say, putting my foot down. "Please show me the way."

Orpheus shakes his head. "I'm afraid that's impossible."

Fear strikes through my heart. "What? Why?" Oh my God, oh my God. What have I gotten myself into now?

"Because, my darling," he says with a twisted smile. "You are the chosen one. The alpha female worthy
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to become my mate."

21

"Your
what?"
I cry, horrified, disgusted, and freaked out beyond belief. "What the hell are you talking about, dude?"

But it's really a rhetorical question at this point. The cave, the mate thing, the dog paintings. I'm adding up two plus two here and even math-challenged me ain't getting five.

I try to back out of the cave, but Orpheus blocks my exit, moving faster than my eyes can follow. It's then that I notice the tufts of hair peeking from his sleeves. His black painted fingernails lengthening into claws.

"You're Lone Wolf," I whisper. "The renegade Lycan who infected the Oakridge High cheerleaders. I thought you were a jock."

He rolls his eyes. "I'm a shape-shifter. I can take on any human form I choose." He smiles smugly, all while his face elongates before my very eyes. Whiskers sprout from his previously clean-shaven skin.

Fangs protrude from his mouth. Eyes narrow and brighten to a brilliant yellow. I can't believe he's shape-shifting right here, right now. I watch, too fascinated and horrified to turn away.

"I left the Order a few months ago," Orpheus explains. "I was sick to death of taking orders from that bastard wolf Lupine. I felt it would be best to start my own pack. Find my-self some bitches and start mating. I will be the grand sire of this new, elite pack. And have many wolves under my command."

"Dude, I've heard of some crazy ways to pick up chicks in my day, but let me tell you, I think in this day and age most of us would prefer—"

"Silence!" he growls. "You will speak when spoken to, female."

I bolt toward the cave entrance, but again, he's too fast. This time he grabs me by the shoulders and pins me against the cave wall. I cry out in pain as my back slams against solid rock. Orpheus's face is inches from mine and he's ninety percent wolf now, though still standing on his hind legs and wearing clothing.

He growls at me, saliva dripping down his fanged mouth. I start to scream for help.

He laughs, but it sounds more like a howl. "Yell all you want," he says. "We're far away from any towns."

I close my mouth. He's right, of course. Right now I might as well be in outer space. Either way, no one can hear me scream.

"What do you want from me?" I demand, trying to keep up the tough-girl act. Isn't that what you're supposed to do with snarling dogs? Show them you're not afraid, even if you very, very much are afraid?

"I told you," he says, claws digging into my shoulders, "I want you as my alpha bitch. The other American girls I turned, they proved . . . not worthy. Not like you. You're so fair. So ..." He leans his nose into my neck and breathes in.". . . so smelly."

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Smelly? Uh, right. Damn, I forgot to suppress my vampire scent before I went out. Stupid, Rayne, really stupid.

"Look, man—er, wolf," I say. "You're barking up the wrong skirt, here. I'm a vampire. I can't exactly become a werewolf, too."

"I don't believe you. If you were a vampire you could eas-ily overtake me. Everyone knows vampires are much more powerful than us dogs."

"Well, I . . . I. . ." Sigh. Did I mention how much it sucks tobe a gimped vampire with no powers? And why, oh why, didn't I pack a pistol full of silver bullets before I left the ho-telthis evening? "I might overpower you at any second!" I bluff. "So you'd better let me go now while there's still a chance.I'll take it easy on you."

It's then that I remember I do have one vampire power. I can send telepathic cries for help to other vampires. Maybe if I send strongly enough Jareth will be able to hear me. Hope-fully he's not too mad at me to not at least come to my rescue.

I reach inside myself and pull together as much power and energy as possible, then send out the loudest mental scream for help I can muster. I'm not exactly sure what to say, but I give as much info as I can.

Hopefully it will be enough for him to find me.

While I'm yelling my head off on the inside, Orpheus pro-ceeds to tie me up on the outside, binding my hands and feet with a length of rope. Then he sits me down in front of the caveand gathers wood for a fire. "I've killed us a nice rabbit, my darling," he says, after sparking the blaze. He reaches into a wooden box and pulls out the most foul, rotting creature I've ever seen. "I'll roast it for us." He stokes the fire, only managing to produce more smoke. I cough in protest. But that's nothing to what I'm going to feel when he force-feeds me last week's Thumper.

I try to send out another cry for help—I mean, what else can I do? This time I describe Orpheus, too.

Maybe Jareth can ask the other Lycans about him. Maybe they know where his cave is so he can come rescue me before it's too late. Before Lycan turns me into a werewolf and tries to (ew!) mate me.

One thing's for sure. I'm so not rolling over and playing dead to this dog.

22

After our "dinner" of roast Thumper, which, of course, I puke right up after being forced to eat, Orpheus tells me he has things to do, dogs to see, and that he'll be back in a few hours. He leaves me tied up just outside the cave.