Forbidden

sixteen

Claire’s bedside clock digitally ticked the hours away as she tossed and turned, replaying the events at the mall in her mind.
She’d been so sure Celeste was the person who’d been sending her the psychic messages. Then Alec showed up, pissed as hell and dressed like something out of The Matrix, and had somehow scared Celeste away. Claire had been furious with him at first, but now she was just confused. What was Alec so mad about? Had he been following them? How did he know Celeste and those guys, and why did he insist they were dangerous?
Claire had to admit, there was something strange about them. Claire and her friends had been totally up for going to that Kings game, and none of them even liked hockey that much. It was almost as if they’d been hypnotized.
Of course, there was definitely something strange about Alec, too. Claire still couldn’t shake the deep certainty that he had some kind of supernatural abilities. But if so, what was he doing at her high school? What had he meant when he said he could protect her? The expression on Alec’s face and the tremor in his voice as he’d pronounced those last words continued to haunt her. It felt as if he’d been looking straight into her soul, and she knew he’d spoken from the heart.
Erica and Brian insisted that Alec liked her. Claire was beginning to think it was true—and she could no longer deny that she was attracted to him. There was no way she could pursue these growing feelings, however, until she knew the truth about who or what Alec was. Somehow, Claire decided, she was going to have to get answers.
But the next day at school, although she felt Alec’s eyes on her everywhere she went, every time she turned to start up a conversation with him, he was either looking the other way or was gone.
It was a typical short Friday, and she’d agreed to tutor Neil during lunch after school. They met at a corner table at Maria’s Restaurant in Brentwood Village, a short walk away at the top of the hill, and shared a mushroom calzone while going over the intricacies of the preterite tense.
The session went well. The whole time Claire was coaching Neil, however, she found her thoughts drifting back to Alec, wishing she was having lunch with him, contemplating how and when she could get Alec alone for a private chat.
When an hour had passed, the calzone had been decimated, and they’d finished the chapter in question, Claire said, “You’ve got this, Neil. I’m really impressed.”
“Thanks.” He eyed her warily across the table. “But … why do I hear a ‘We have to break up’ tone in your voice?”
A flash of guilt warmed her cheeks, but she willed it away. She hadn’t been planning to end their study sessions, but it suddenly became clear to her that she wanted to—and there was no reason for her to feel guilty about it. “You said you were bad at Spanish, but that’s not true. I think you were just rusty after spending the whole summer surfing. You don’t need me anymore.”
“Oh, but I do.” Neil reached out and lightly gripped her forearm, his hand warm even through the soft fabric of her long-sleeved shirt. “I’m never gonna remember all this stuff on my own. It’s only because you keep drilling it into my head. And when you talk, I don’t mind listening.”
Claire could feel the weight of sincerity behind his words. But his grin didn’t cause her stomach to flutter the way it used to, and his touch on her arm felt friendly instead of causing sparks. “Tell you what, Neil. Let’s ease off next week and see how you do. I’m not abandoning you, I promise. If you still need my help, I’ll be here.”
Neil leaned back in his chair and sighed. “Okay. If you insist.” With a smile, he added, “But tell me one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“Even though you’re bailing on the Spanish thing, will you still be beholden to me?”
Claire couldn’t help laughing. “Always.”
Claire waved good-bye to Neil in the junior parking lot and raced up the school stairs to get her books for the weekend. When she turned the corner to her locker, her pulse skittered. Alec was standing there, digging through it.
Claire strove for nonchalance as she walked up. “Hi.”
Alec smiled. “Hi. Just the person I was hoping to see. I wanted to ask you something.”
“Oh?” His dark blond hair was disarmingly tousled. “I … have something to ask you, too. Can I go first?”
Alec finished getting his books and stepped back, giving her access to the locker. “Okay.”
Claire took a deep breath as she exchanged several books and folders from her backpack. Be ballsy and go for it, she told herself. “Alec, you seem to have been avoiding me all day.”
He opened his mouth as if to reply, then shut it again.
“I figure it’s ’cause you didn’t want me to ask about what happened at the mall yesterday. Brian and Erica and I have been arguing about it ever since. So instead of asking straight out, I’m going to give you our two running theories. Let me know if we’re warm, or way off.”
After a brief pause, Alec nodded with a hint of a smile. “I suppose that’s fair.”
Claire plunged in. “One: Those people at the mall were vampires and you’re a Slayer. Two: You used to date Celeste, and she broke your heart.”
Alec laughed in surprise. “I wish it were as amusing as the first, or as simple as the second. But it isn’t.”
“And?” She waited.
He glanced away, a troubled look now crossing his face. “And … that’s all I can say. I’m sorry. Can we leave it at that?”
Claire sighed, zipping up her bag. What had made her think he would admit anything? “Whatever. I get it. Like you said, you ‘like to keep that information private.’” An awkward silence fell. Claire looked at him. “You said you had something to ask me?”
“Right.” His eyes flicked back to hers. “I hope you won’t be upset. But… I really enjoyed singing with you last week. I was afraid if I asked you about this you’d say no, or I’d chicken out. So I just went ahead and did it.”
“Did … what?”
“I signed us up for an audition to sing together at the Homecoming assembly.”
Claire stared at him in astonishment. That was the last thing she’d expected. “Are you serious?”
“They’re going to pick the three best acts. I think we might have a shot at it.”
“A shot? You have more than a shot.” Yesterday in the Student Life Center Claire had wanted him to do this very thing, sign up for the auditions—but she never dreamed he’d consider letting her tag along. The idea of singing with Alec again sent a buzz coursing through her that was both thrilling and unsettling. “Your voice is gorgeous. But I don’t know about me. I’ve never sung in front of an audience before.”
“Neither have I.” Alec’s voice was soft and deep.
“Really?” Claire could hardly believe it.
“Really.” A warm sparkle danced in his green eyes. He took a step closer.
Claire could feel the heat emanating from his body. Suddenly, all she could think about was that moment in her dream when he’d almost kissed her. He was looking at her now in the same way. The fear and doubt she’d been harboring began to trickle away. Whoever Alec was—whatever he was—Claire realized she wouldn’t mind if he did kiss her. Control your hormones, she commanded her brain. Concentrate. He’d asked her to sing with him and was waiting for an answer.
This could be a good thing, she told herself. It would require them to rehearse together. The alone time would give her a chance to learn more about him, hopefully satisfying her burning curiosity—so if he ever did kiss her, she wouldn’t have any lingering questions about him.
“All right. I’m in,” she said. “Where and when do we start?”
He looked both happy and relieved. “It’s your call, but I suggest my place, tomorrow morning.”
Wow. His place? “Fine, but I don’t know where you live, and I don’t have a car.”
“I’ll pick you up at eleven.”
Claire sat on the low front wall of her apartment complex, cell phone in hand as she waited. She was a bundle of nerves. “My mom’s working all day, but if for any reason I don’t hear my cell, she’ll probably call you to check in on me.”
“Don’t worry, I’ve got you covered,” Erica said on the other end of the line. “I’ll tell her we’re doing our nails and you can’t come to the phone.”
“Thanks, Erica. Next time you go to a guy’s apartment alone—especially an emancipated guy who might be a vampire-slaying alien—I’ll return the favor.”
“I bet there’s someone on Craigslist with that exact description.”
Claire laughed, a little shiver running through her. She was both excited and intimidated by what she was about to do. She’d never even been on a date with Alec, but here she was going to his apartment, alone. Hell, as a result of her mother’s rigid rules, she’d never been anywhere alone with a boy—unless you counted Jackson Spencer, who’d walked her home from sixth grade every day for a month until her mother found out and started picking her up again from school.
“You have to tell me what his place is like,” Erica said.
“All he said was that he lives on his own, and that it’s nothing special.” Claire heard the roar of an engine and looked up to see a cool, vintage, dark blue car pull up to the curb, with Alec behind the wheel. “Holy shit. He drives a Mustang.”
“I know. He parks near me every day, and I keep wanting to steal it. Anyways, good luck! Come home a virgin!”
“Thanks, Mom!” Claire dropped her phone in her bag and hopped off the wall as Alec reached over and opened the passenger door from inside.
Claire bent down and looked in over the top of her sunglasses, her heart doing a flip-flop when her gaze met Alec’s. The morning sunlight fell across his face, bringing out the strands of gold in his hair. He took off his own sunglasses and smiled at her, giving her a full view of his beautiful green eyes. He wore the black leather jacket and dark jeans she’d seen before, but this time he sported a crisp, striped, button-down shirt. He looked so gorgeous, she was suddenly less embarrassed that she’d spent over an hour getting dressed, settling on her favorite peasant top, denim skirt, and brown suede boots.
“Hi. Nice shirt.” Claire returned his smile as she climbed into the car and shut the door. “You clean up nicely.”
“You should see me in a tux,” he joked, but his expression told her that he thought she looked great too.
“I’m sure you put James Bond to shame,” Claire teased, “except for the Scottish accent.”
“The most famous screen Bond was a Scotsman, Miss Brennan,” Alec replied, in a deep Scottish burr that Claire recognized as a perfect imitation of Sean Connery.
Claire laughed. “I forgot about that.” Glancing around at the gray leather interior and chromed instrument panel, she added, “Wow. I officially have car envy.”
“Do you want to drive?”
“Do I? Yes! ”
“Okay, then.” Alec unbuckled his seat belt and leapt out of the car, moving around to the passenger side. He opened Claire’s door with a gentlemanly flourish. “She’s yours.”
Claire quickly scooted out of the car. “She? ”
“All vehicles are women. From the Santa Maria to the Starship Enterprise.”
As Claire settled into the driver’s seat, her eyes fell with alarm on the gearshift lever in the center console. “Oh no. Is this a stick shift?”
“Of course. Don’t you know how to drive stick?”
“No. My mom drives a Camry.”
“Ah. Want to learn?”
“I’d better not. I might break your car.”
“You won’t, it’s easy. I promise.” Alec pointed to the three pedals at her feet. “See that pedal on the far left? That’s the clutch. Press down on it with your left foot. Right foot does gas and brake like always, left foot helps you change gears.”
Claire followed his instructions through the tricky process of letting out the clutch as she gave it gas. The first time she tried it, the car lurched forward, sputtered, and died.
“That happens to everybody. Try again.”
It took three tries, but Claire finally got the hang of the clutch, eased the car away from the curb, and merged into traffic. The car jerked every time she had to shift gears or start up at a light, but it was fun to drive. When she pulled into the small parking lot behind Alec’s building and killed the engine, she heaved a sigh of relief. “Thank God you don’t live too far away from me. I shudder to think what might have happened if I’d had to take the freeway.”
“You did great. I think the car likes you.”
They got out, and Alec led her past a patch of scrubby bushes to a nearby door tucked beneath an exterior stairwell. The gray stucco building was boxy and nondescript, a stark contrast, she thought, to the flashy automobile she’d just driven.
Alec withdrew a set of keys from his pocket and proceeded to unlock a series of deadbolts. Claire couldn’t help but notice a hint of tension in his shoulders.
“Why do you have so many locks?”
“Keeps other people out.” Alec opened the door. With a pleasant smile, he added, “Wait here a moment.” Then he slipped inside.
That’s odd, Claire thought in sudden apprehension. Why did she get the feeling that Alec was working just as hard as she was to appear casual? She watched curiously through the half-open door as he darted from corner to corner, as if looking for something. Maybe checking to make sure his place wasn’t too messy? The heavy curtains were shut, and it looked completely dark. How could he see anything?
Alec returned to the door and opened it wide, motioning for her to enter with a cheerful, “Bienvenida, se?orita.”
His jacket was gone, and in his fitted shirt he looked particularly handsome. If only I didn’t like him so much, she thought, her pulse racing. That would make everything so much easier.
She walked inside and Alec shut the door, leaving the three locks alone. “Put these on the table, would you?” Unexpectedly, he tossed both his car keys and house keys to Claire.
She fumbled in the dim light, trying to catch them, but missed. “Sorry, I can’t see anything.” Claire scooped up the keys from the carpet. “Can you turn on a light?”
“Aye, got it.” Alec flicked a switch and then quickly opened the curtains.
Wow, Claire thought, glancing around the austerely furnished studio with its blank, off-white walls. He hadn’t even put up a poster. It reminded her of every featureless place her mom had moved her into over the years—except a lot smaller. It was weird to think of a sixteen-year-old living here all by himself. Her glance fell on his sofa.
“Do you … sleep on your couch?”
“Aye.”
She suddenly felt very self-conscious, knowing that this was the room where Alec slept—and that they were together and alone. Alec moved into the tiny kitchenette, muttering something under his breath.
“What?”
Alec returned to the doorway. “I asked if you want anything to drink.”
“Sure.” He seemed to be studying her intently, as if he was waiting for something … although she had no idea what it was.
“Anything in particular?” he asked.
“Do you have iced tea?”
Alec’s eyebrows lifted, as if her answer conveyed some deep, inexplicable meaning to him—and then shook his head. “Sorry. No.”
Why is he acting so weird? Claire wondered. She felt like she was going through some sort of social obstacle course. “Water’s fine.” He disappeared into the kitchen again, and she heard the sound of ice cubes popping out of a tray.
Claire wished she could use her psychic powers to find out what Alec was thinking, but sadly they didn’t seem to work that way. Whatever you do, she instructed herself, keep your hands off him. The last thing she wanted right now was to get a vision and fall dizzily to the floor.
Claire sat down on the comfy sofa, plunking Alec’s keys onto the rectangular wooden coffee table. She glanced around, desperately searching for some detail to quiz him on. The only other items in the room were an end table with a single lamp, Alec’s guitar on a stand, and a large metal storage cabinet with a sturdy handle and a keyhole. He has a thing about locks, Claire mused, recalling the mysterious box in their locker.
Alec emerged from the kitchen with a tall glass of water rattling with ice.
“What do you keep in there? Gold?” Claire gestured toward the cabinet, hoping her tone sounded like witty repartee and didn’t betray her intense curiosity.
“No, strictly uncut diamonds and vials of plutonium.”
“So you really are James Bond.”
“I like to think of myself more as the Jason Bourne type.” He grinned.
Claire smiled and sat forward on the sofa as Alec crossed the room with her drink. Here was the perfect opportunity, she realized, to conduct a little test, to see if he had any extraordinary abilities. He offered her the glass. She reached out, wrapped her fingers around it, and then deliberately let the wet glass slip from her grasp.
“Oh!” she cried—anticipating the impending crash—but before the word had even left her mouth, Alec’s hand shot out in a blur and caught the glass in midair.
They froze, their faces barely a foot apart, gazes locked. Busted! Claire thought, her heart thundering. His hand had moved at the speed of light! Alec’s wide eyes betrayed a sense of anxiety that Claire pretended to ignore.
“Sorry,” Claire said softly. “It was slippery.”
“Can’t believe I caught it in time,” he responded with forced cheerfulness.
“Yeah, nice reflexes.” As she stared into his green eyes, adrenaline rushed through her, and it was all she could do to maintain a calm demeanor. She was right! Alec did have some kind of special powers.
And he was close. So close. And they were so very alone. It was scary and intoxicating all at the same time. Part of her wanted to yell at him, What the hell are you?! And the other part (even knowing full well that it was the last thing she should do) wanted him to take her in his arms and kiss her.
Neither of those things happened. Alec tore his eyes away and carefully set the glass down on the table. Methodically, he lifted his guitar off its stand and brought it back to the couch, where he sat down beside her. Tension filled the air.
Claire’s forearm and bare thigh below her short denim skirt were dangerously close to Alec’s hand. She wanted more than anything in the world to reach out and touch him. Instead, she tugged her skirt down and edged over a bit on the couch.
Alec noticed her sideways move and frowned. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
Looking unconvinced, he strummed a few random bars on his guitar. “What should we sing?”
“You signed us up. Didn’t you have a song in mind?”
“No.”
He went quiet, turning to face her again. To her surprise, she saw fear and yearning mingled in his gaze, a mirror of her own bottled-up feelings. What was he afraid of? He reached up toward her cheek. Should she stop him? She felt certain that if his fingers came in contact with her skin, she would melt (for one reason or another)—but she was paralyzed. I don’t want to stop him, she thought. Can’t I have this normal, simple moment, like any other girl?
Alec’s hand brushed gently against her cheek. “Claire—”
As his fingers trailed along her cheekbone and paused at the corner of her mouth, his touch seemed to ignite a delicious warmth that spread across her face and down her neck, to burn like embers within her chest. But it was a thrilling sensation, totally different from the all-consuming heat that preceded a vision.
Claire took a sharp breath. He’d touched her. And it was okay. It was more than okay. Relief flooded through her, washing away all her questions and worries. Alec’s eyes locked with hers, tentative yet smoky with desire. Claire could barely hear herself think over her thundering pulse.
She said softly, “Just kiss me, you idiot.”
Alec needed no further invitation. He set the guitar on the table, his other hand sliding around her back, drawing her close until her upper body molded against his. Claire slipped her own hands up the length of his arms to settle between his shoulder blades. She could feel every contour of his chest pressing against hers through the thin layers of their clothing. Suddenly, his lips were on hers. The gentle touch was exhilarating, wondrous—everything she’d ever imagined a kiss would be. She felt herself shudder as his lips moved softly against hers, exploring, lingering.
And then, despite herself, Claire felt a dreaded, familiar blaze building deep inside her.
Please, no! Not now! her mind screamed, trying to will the heat away, but every inch of her body seemed to burst into flame. Her stomach churned, her head spun, and a rush of images poured into her brain.