At the age of 18, every dhampir can decide when their heart stops, but not all of them can choose their allegiance. Melissa Sault is one of these dhampir, a half-blooded immortal whom attends a secondary school built for students just like her--stud...
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I pulled my hood further over my face as I knocked on the fourth mahogany door in the hall. Not that it helped any, as my skinny jeans showed more of my figure than my baggy jacket concealed, but it was at least enough to get the other guys in the hall to pass me without thinking twice. And on second thought, I shouldn't have hid at all. It was just my brother's room.
Miles threw open the door, his face dressed in rage but his chest bare. "Dude, I told you I wasn't--" his voice raised in pitch as he blinked out of it--"Mel? What are you--,"
I placed a finger over my lips, checking what I could see of his room for a roommate. Sure enough, another boy laid out on the second twin bed with his nose in a Nintendo console. I whispered, "Put on some clothes. You're coming with me."
His head craned back. "Why are you whispering?"
It took all of me not to grab him by his adolescent ear. "Because I'm taking you to a senior bonfire and your new friend isn't invited. You coming or not?"
He glared for a split second, but rather than slamming the door in my face, he opened it wider. Miles trudged to his closet, sifting through a rack of tees and hoodies before he said, "Yo, Brienne, this is my sister, Melissa. You mind if she comes in?"
The boy on the bed ran a hand through his black hair, his thin and willowy frame almost swanlike as he dropped the game and smiled. "Of course, not," he said, but by the small quirk of his lips and a drawling accent, it seemed more like he purred it. Awkwardly I took a step into the room and clung to the front wall, glad it still smelled of sterile old castle rather than feet and vinegar chips.
"Brienne is French," Miles added. "He's also ranked globally in some of his games."
Brienne nodded in approval, a flush growing on his cheeks as I held his stare for too long. Swallowing, I kept my attention on my brother's side of the dorm. Miles wasn't as neat, half of his dufflebags still packed and sprawled all over his sheets, but at least he was familiar.
My brother's roommate leaned forward in his bed, sliding his hands down his legs. "I heard of you before I arrived. You are on the Ivory Table. I was just talking to your brother about it."
I was good enough with a passive smile and muttered thanks, but Brienne cocked his head. "Are you going to be vorvian like him?"
It should have been an easy question. I'd seen what vampires could do. My father was vorvian and my mother unmarked. I grew up around silver bullets and stakes in the cupboards, but for some reason it didn't roll off my tongue. I was tired, and if I could be anything, I wanted to be nothing.
"I'm undecided," I said at last.
Brienne's eyes gleamed with awe and a tint of mischief. Not wanting to think of what that meant, I looked to Miles. "You ready?"
He nodded, spritzing a bit of aftershave onto his hood before smoothing out the wrinkles over his stomach. I couldn't help but gawk, my jaw almost touching the floor as he put in earrings and then joined me at the door. "Since when were your ears pierced?"
