Enemy Within (Vampire Born Trilogy, #2) (15 page)

There was a time when I couldn’t have agreed more. I would’ve smiled and reached over to touch my lips to his. And I feel bad that he never got the chance to set things right with me. That he was never able to show me he could move past that, that we could move past that together. But it isn’t enough to pull back the part of myself that reaches toward Mirko.

I look at Jaren regretfully. “I’m sorry too.”

“I don’t get it. We had time to get to know each other. For months, we built a foundation of getting to know each other—a connection. You haven’t known Mirko very long at all.”

How do I fix this? The hurt and confusion on his face pains me, but at the same time I’m frustrated that he discredits my feelings for Mirko, simply based on a ratio of time spent. “That’s so not fair. You were with Tiffany for two years. Does that mean I should’ve expected you to have loved her more than you did me?”

“No, I already told you it was never with Tiffany like it is with you.”

And that’s when he gets it. That he’s my Tiffany. That no matter how much sense it makes that I should love him more and choose him, Mirko will always mean more to me.

Jaren’s right. Mirko and I didn’t have the time to slowly ease into each other. But we don’t need that. A part of Mirko recognized right from the beginning that something within me completed him. It took me a while to recognize it myself, but once I did, I wondered how I didn’t see it before, how I didn’t feel it before.

Jaren straightens his back. “Sorry to bother you.” He grabs his book, chair screeching against the floor as he slides it back.

“Jaren … you’re not bothering me.”

But by then, he’s already walking away.

I drop my head down over bent arms and exhale deeply, a motorboat sound vibrating from my lips. Maybe the Tiffany comparison was too harsh?

Mirko sits down in the chair next to me.

“Don’t say anything, you creeper.”

He puts his hands up in surrender. “I’m not going to say anything about your confession of still having feelings for him—”

My eyes widen. “You just did!”

“But I am going to gloat,” he continues as if I didn’t speak.

I eye him warily. “Oh, yeah. About what?” I can’t recall anything that would have Mirko acting so smug.

“You diverted him back to ex-boyfriend status. After all his flirting with you and irritating me when I could do nothing about it, this made up for all of that. And I didn’t have to do or say a thing. It was all you, Slatki.” He looks at me endearingly prideful.

I want to smack him and lick his face at the same time—smack him for being so happy in the wake of Jaren’s pain, and lick him for the way his eyes smolder.

I decide I should probably do neither. “You should get back to sleuthing behind your bookshelves before I lick your face.”

He leans in closer. “What if I want you to lick my face?”

My insides melt and constrict at the same time.

I smack him in the arm because I’m definitely not licking his face in front of all these people. “Scram, or I won’t be doing anything to your face later, either.”

He grins. “You’re cute when you’re mad, Slatki.” He stands up and surveys the room. When no one is looking, he puts one hand on the table and the other on the back of my chair and leans down to my ear.

Chills spread down my neck and along my arms.

“But threaten me again, and it’s you and I who will be doing sneaky things behind the bookshelves.”

My jaw drops and I let it hang as I watch him arrogantly walk back to the bookshelf and disappear behind it.

***

The next day after school, I’m on my way to meet my father in Garwin’s library. My father has “requested my presence.” For what reason, I don’t know, so it makes me kind of nervous. I’m also somewhat excited because my father and I haven’t really spent much one-on-one time together since he got here.

When I stroll into the open double doors, the first thing I notice is that the curtains pooling the floor along the far window have been drawn back. It’s a cloudy day, but a ray of light shines through and trails dust in the air directly in front of my father. He sits at a table, looking over stacks of paper.

My dad probably prefers this room because it has that old-book smell. I picture him sitting in a room similar to this one, but hundreds of years ago. Maybe even in Croatia.

The image is surreal. This man is my father, and yet, he’s defeated everyone, even Father Time. My dad is … ageless.

I stand in silent awe and watch him until Emerik closes the doors behind me.

My father looks up, a small smile transforming his ageless face to something more human. “Hello, Brooke.” He slides his chair back and stands.

“Hello,” I reply, much less fearful than the last time he greeted me with those same words.

He steps around the table and indicates for me to take a seat on the large sofa. He sits next to me, his back rigid when I relax into the cushions.

I move forward and sit up as straight as he is.

His chest rumbles with a hearty laugh. “Please, sit however you feel most comfortable.”

I feel awkward and out of place. I don’t really know how to hold myself when I’m around him. “I’m good,” I say with a smile.

“How was school?”

“Okay.”

“Do you feel safe there?” my father asks.

“As safe as anywhere.” I shrug. What’s he getting at? Am I in danger?

He studies me for a moment, and I try to steady my breathing. I want so badly for him to approve of me.

He finally breaks the silence. “Is that because you have Mirko there to protect you, or because you feel school is a safe place?”

“Well, probably because of Mirko. I always feel safer when he’s around.”

My father nods, like that answers a deeper question than he’s asked me. It’s like we have a second conversation going on that I’m not privy to.

I adjust on the couch and consider how to maneuver to get in on it.

“The Zao Duh has feelings for you, and I see you have feelings for him as well.”

I’m stunned. How does he know? I haven’t shown any of my feelings for Mirko when my father’s around. I’ve made sure to be extra careful.

My heart pounds against my ribs, and I fear he can hear every clink and clang it makes, like a hummingbird trying to escape from a brass cage.

“He kissed you when I came for you and Jelena, and you kissed him back,” my father answers.

Oh! I forgot about that. Mirko and I haven’t even discussed how we should explain that if approached about it.

“Yes, I did,” I say, my mouth more than a little parched.

“Your mother tells me he said you two needed to keep your distance from one another since I’ve claimed you.” He’s stating everything now, but he’s studying me, as if awaiting my confirmation—or my lie.

My difficulty in finding words appears to be more out of shock and embarrassment than out of trying to figure out my story.

I frown and nod because that’s all I can do. Not really a lie. Mirko did tell me we had to keep our distance. But I got him to change his mind.

“Wise fellow,” my father says. “I called you in to confirm that this is the situation with you two.”

Sudden anger and frustration over this stupid, unwritten law, which tells me I can’t love who I do openly and freely, wells up inside me. I snap. The words aren’t so hard to find anymore. “It’s stupid and prejudiced that he even had to tell me that. It’s ridiculous that you’re in trouble for fathering me, and that my life means so little to you all because of who my parents are.” I’m almost yelling by the end. And it’s definitely not a lie.

“I obviously do not agree with it. You are proof of that,” my father says sincerely, although his jaw is tilted at a stern angle. “But others do. And as you said, we are already in trouble. We have to appease the right people to have a chance at cleaning up this mess, and rumors of my daughter consorting with a Zao Duh will not be tolerated.”

A part of me is terrified of my father, afraid of letting him down, but the more prominent part is pissed over the injustice of it all. “Whatever.” Typical, bratty teenager, but I don’t care. I stand to walk away.

No. I’m not finished yet.

I spin around and glare at my father, who somehow looks more regal and powerful sitting on the oversized sofa than any other Pijawika I’ve come into contact with. “You’re the most powerful Pijawika in the world. Surely you haven’t been powerless for the past three hundred years over doing something to change these beliefs. If you truly felt people should be free to choose who they love, you’d have done something about it. I mean, for Chrissake, you freed two races from slavery, but you can’t influence people in changing their minds about wanting to kill a melez or those who love a person from a ‘lesser’ race? I still blame you.”

Now I’m done. I spin on my heel and walk out.

Emerik catches up with me a few feet down the hall. “Brooke.” His green eyes blaze.

Now that I’ve expended some of my fire, I can’t do anything but stop and listen.

“You were not raised in our society, so I will pardon your ignorance in this. But you must be mindful of your tone when speaking to Zladislov. He appears to be tolerant of your lack of respect, but I will not.”

Is he really chastising me for telling them what I think? It’s all true. “You’re right. I wasn’t raised in this world. And a good thing too, because I’d already be dead.”

His lips mold into a tight line and then his face softens, as if he thinks it better to use a different approach with me. “Zladislov is stern, but he is not mean. He only desires what is best for you.”

I relax my shoulders. I can’t blame my father for everyone’s hatred against me or Mirko. I’m still disappointed my father hasn’t done more to progress the tolerance of his people, but you can’t make everyone decide they’re okay with something because you want them to be. “Can you tell him I apologize for my tone?” I’m not retracting anything I said, though.

“I shall.” He offers me a gentle smile, and a part of me softens toward him. Emerik is always so intimidating, standing so silent and stoic next to my father. I can see now that he cares for my father beyond his protection alone, and he seems to care about our relationship if he’s taking the time to explain my father’s reasoning.

“Thank you,” I say.

He nods, and while holding his slight smile, he turns with military precision and walks back toward the library.

I guess telling my father off and being reprimanded by his stra
žar is better than him finding out Mirko and I are hiding our relationship. And I didn’t even have to lie to keep it a secret.

Kaitlynn, though, being the great friend she is, ditches David more frequently to hang out with me, and I love her for it, but i
t means more lying and hiding for Mirko and me.

It’s a school night, and Kaitlynn’s sleeping over. We stay up pretty late, laughing about David’s little sister walking in on them making out.

“I’m getting a headache,” Kaitlynn says. “Let’s go to sleep.”

We settle in under the covers, Kaitlynn on her side of the bed, and me on mine.

I’m so lucky to have her as my best friend. I hate lying to her, but I try to make it up in every other way I can.

The guilt wears me out and I finally fall asleep.

I wake up to the sound of gagging in the bathroom. I glance up at the clock: 3 a.m. The devil’s hour. I hate that.

I shiver and look over at Kaitlynn, but her side of the bed is empty. “Kaitlynn? Are you okay?”

More heaving.

I fling my covers off and follow the light streaming out of the bathroom.

Kaitlynn’s bent over the toilet. The heaving stops. She sits back on her heels and rests her head on her arm over the porcelain.

“Hey, are you okay?”

She turns toward me with a miserable look on her face. “I am so sick, Brooke. I feel like I’ve been puking for hours.”

And I’m only now waking up?

I must’ve been out.