| Chapter One
"There's something I have to tell you, Ali."
Bruce's dark, gorgeous, mysterious eyes stared me down, sending a current of electricity down my body. He raised his hand and softly caressed my face, his touch warm and alive, his face so close I could feel his warmth and protection.
I shook my head.
"Bruce, I'm sorry—we're over. You knew that. We're over, and there's nothing you can do about it." I felt like crying—tears were on the verge of breaking my flimsy eye tissue. My voice was shaky and weak, but it was true—we couldn't be together anymore. Not when his parents didn't approve, or my stupid, devout People of Faith parents, either. There was no way on Earth that our relationship was possible, that we could touch and hold each other again without being burned to the stake.
I tried to pull away from him, but he grabbed my wrist, and I must say—a football player was way stronger than a flexible, graceful dancer.
"They don't have to know, hell, nobody has to—"
"Bruce." I said firmly. "We can't hold it too longer—before long, we'll have to marry, and—"
"Ali! We'll marry when we're eighteen, and we'll get out of this shithole of a place for once." Bruce's whisper was urgent, and, for once my mind had wanted to agree with him, my body had wanted to embrace him and marry him and love him…
"No." I said, my voice as cold as steel. "And what if we get caught? They'll burn us—heck, they'll kill us! Dating is prohibited—"
"Until the age of twenty-two. Blah, blah, blah. Hon—"
Before I could cut his stream of begging with a voice as sharp as a blade, he had bent over, and before I could fight him, our lips met.
True, I only wanted to break up with him for the sake of everyone's safety in Tulsa, especially our safety. The last thing I wanted was for Bruce and I to be hand in hand, at the stake, burning to our deaths. But it was not true that I didn't love Bruce. I loved him—and when I mean that, it's genuine. Not just because he's hot, or drop-dead gorgeous, but he's nice, funny, caring, and sweeter than the testosterone-roughened boys that ruled Cascia Hall.
By the time we finally broke apart, not by force, but merely because we were out of breath, I found myself staring at him. My lips were still tingling from his warmth, and I felt that queasy feeling in my stomach that fluttered with love (as cliché and weird and girly as that sounds).
I could feel my heart thumping—bad. It was more than those adrenaline rushes, it was more than an electric feel—it was all of that, but it had something to it. Desire.
But before Bruce could lean forward and kiss me again and we'd have one of those totally hard-core make-out sessions in a shadowy alcove in Cascia Hall, I froze, and it looked like Bruce saw it in my eyes too.
Just beyond the outdoors stone hallway was a figure. It was looming, threatening, lurking… it was more insubstantial than substance as it began gracefully walking towards us.
I gulped. If it was a professor… I was dead, and all the hard work my parents put into getting me into the most expensive school in Tulsa would go to waste.
But a greater sense of dread overcame me when I realized what it was, not a professor, but a—a weight suddenly dropped on my stomach. The pale skin, the way-to-obvious sapphire crescent Mark and filigree of tattoos, the way the figure, somehow human but not human, had raised up his hand in pointed it at me…
He was a Tracker.
I screamed, and Bruce had hunched up his body to try and protect me, but it was too late…
"ALICE MARIYA OXANA! The goddess of Night welcomes thee into her arms. With her power, I Mark thee a child of the Night! Welcome to your new life!" A deep, alluring voice erupted from the man, and a sharp pain stabbed in my forehead.
"Ali!" Bruce gasped, seeming out of breath as I fell down from the stone bench we were sitting on to the hard-as-concrete floor below. The pain seared, and I felt something trace itself on my forehead…
And as soon as the pain had come, it had come away. Something new and foreign tingled on my forehead, and my vision, which had suddenly blurred, cleared up again.
I was on the floor, face up, facing the shaded roof of the alcove. My body ached, and a coughing fit began to wrench my chest…
I am Marked.
Which meant that I am now a vampyre fledgling. Which also meant that I have to go to the House of Night, a local vampyre academy, or else I'll die or something. Which also meant that I will no longer be normal. Ever again.
I didn't want to look at Bruce, I didn't him to see the freak that I had turned into… but, involuntarily, I glanced at him.
He was shocked. Well—he was surprised. Flabbergasted. Astounded, I guess. I frantically searched his face for disappointment—disgust, maybe. But I didn't find it. Instead, he grinned.
"Ali! You're a fledgling! That's so cool…" He reached up his hand to touch my Mark, but for some reason, I caught his wrist and warded it away.
"Don't—I'm tainted. I'm not what I used to be anymore. Don't touch me. I'm a monster."
I could feel tears threatening to burst out of me by the gallon, and Bruce's smile faded away. His hand fell back to his hand, but after a while, he cupped my face with it.
"It's okay, babe, we can text, we can still talk sometimes. I don't care if you're a fledgling. I still love you." He said, his tone genuine and caring, and the warmth in his voice made me want to cuddle in his arms and forget the world.
As he leaned in to kiss me one more time, though, I backed away. The tears were coming now.
"I'm sorry, Bruce. But you and me—we're different worlds now. Different people… it's just not right."
I could almost feel his sadness, his gloominess, his disappointment… and I cried even more. I willed my stiff muscles to turn away and run, my own lungs choking on my cold, heavy tears.