Chapter 9:

I walked inside the arcade, heading toward the table where Nudge and the guys were…but it was empty. No one was there…

"They bailed," Fang raised his eyebrows. His face looked amused, then again, with him, it could mean something else…

"You'll need a ride," he said.

"Nudge wouldn't leave me," I scoffed. Right? "She's probably playing table tennis."

I went towards the table tennis area. Fang drank a can of soda, offering me some. I shook my head, swallowing. No one was there either. Goddamnit.

"Pinball machines?" Fang asked. He was teasing me. Where the heck is Nudge?

I reached into my back pocket and got my cellphone. The screen was black and it wouldn't turn on.

"Fuck," I muttered. How did it not have battery, if it was fully charged?

"Going once…" said Fang, referring to giving me a ride.

I bit my lip, pondering my other options. I had no other options. Unfortunately, I wasn't sure I was ready to take Fang up on his offer.

Finally I blew out a sigh and prayed I wasn't about to make a mistake.

"You'll take me straight home," I said.

"If that's what you want."

I was about to ask Fang if he'd noticed anything strange on the Archangel, when I stopped myself. I was too scared to ask. What if I hadn't fallen? What if I'd imagined the whole thing? What if I was seeing things that weren't really happening? First the guy in the ski mask. Now this. I was pretty sure Fang's mind speaking was real, but everything else? Not so sure. I am totally going crazy.

Fang walked a few parking spaces over. A shiny black motorcycle rested on its kickstand. He swung on and tipped his head at the seat behind him. "Hop on."

I haven't ridden a motorcycle. Ever. Oh well…I swung my leg over the bike and realized how insecure I felt with nothing but a narrow strip of seat beneath me.

"Is it hard to drive?" I asked. No helmets? Wow…

"No," Fang said, answering. He laughed softly. "You're tense, Max. Relax."

When he pulled out of the parking space, the explosion of movement startled me; I'd been holding on to his shirt with just enough of the fabric between my fingers to keep my balance.

Fang accelerated onto the highway, and my thighs squeezed around him. I hoped I was the only one who noticed. When we reached my house, Fang eased the bike up the fog drenched driveway, killed the engine, and we both swung off.

Instead of staying here, Fang walked toward the porch steps. I mentally growled.

I climbed the porch after him and found him at the door. I watched, divided between confusion and escalating concern, as he drew a set of familiar keys from his pocket and inserted my house key into the bolt.

I reached into my pocket, looking for my keys. They weren't inside.

"Give me back my keys," I said, disconcerted at not knowing how my keys had come into his possession.

"You dropped them in the arcade when you were hunting for your cell," he said.

"I don't care where I dropped them. Give them back."

Fang held up his hands, claiming innocence, and backed away from the door. He leaned one shoulder against the bricks and watched me step up to the lock. I attempted to turn the key. It wouldn't budge. Then I stepped back, ignoring Fang's raised eyebrows. I stepped forward and kicked it really hard, making the door open, hitting the wall.

"Nice kick," he complimented. I smiled at him and his eyes softened. Then turned emotionless again. Weeirdoo…

"I'm surprised no one's here," he said.

"Yeah I'm home alone," I instantly regretted telling him that. No worries, I can beat up his ass…

"The whole night?"

Stalker much? "Um…I think so? My mom would be walking in at like two in the morning," I lied.

I fully intended to shut the door between us, but as I turned about, Fang filled the doorway, his arms braced on either side of the frame.

"You're not going to invite me in?" he asked. I raised my eyebrows at him.

"Hungry? It's pretty late," he said.

"No. Yes. I mean, yes, but—"

Suddenly he was inside.

I took three steps back; he nudged the door closed with his foot. "You like Mexican?" he asked.

"I'm part Mexican."

"Oh so you won't mind if we cook tacos?" he asked. Seriously? I was about to give him a comeback but came up with a mature answer.

"Let's do it," I shrugged.

Then, he strode past me into the house. At the end of the hall, he steered left. To the kitchen.

He went to the sink and ran the tap while scrubbing soap halfway up his arms. Apparently having made himself at home, he went to the pantry first, then browsed the fridge, bringing out items here and there

—salsa, cheese, lettuce, a tomato. Then he dug through the drawers and found a knife.

I suspect I was halfway to panicking at the image of Fang holding a knife. I relaxed. My dad taught me how to disarm someone with a knife, if needed. I swallowed the lump in my throat at the reminder of him.

"I'll be right back," I said, hurrying out of the kitchen.

I went upstairs and coaxed my hair into a ponytail. With that out of the way, I pulled my thoughts together. I wasn't entirely comfortable with the idea of Fang roaming freely through my house— armed with a knife. And my mom would kill me if she found out I'd invited Fang inside when Anne wasn't here.

"Can I take a rain check?" I asked upon finding him still hard at work in the kitchen two minutes later. I placed a hand on my stomach, signaling that it was bothering me. "Queasy," I said. "I think it was the ride home."

He paused in his chopping and looked up. "I'm almost finished."

I noticed he'd exchanged knives for a bigger—and sharper— blade.

As if he had a window to my thoughts, he held up the knife, examining it. The blade gleamed in the light. My stomach clenched. My hands curled into tight fists, and I was beginning to get in a fighting stance, but decided to save it.

"Put the knife down," I instructed quietly.

Fang looked from me to the knife and back again. After a minute he laid it down in front of him. "I'm not going to hurt you, Max."

"That's…reassuring," I managed to say, but my throat was tight and dry. He spun the knife, handle pointing toward me. "Come here. I'll teach you how to make tacos."

I wanted him gone.

"I can't cook to save my life," I shrugged. It's true. And…There was a glint to his eye that made me think I should be frightened of him…and I was. But that fright was equal part allure. There was something extremely unsettling about being near him. In his presence, I didn't trust myself.

"How about a…deal?" His face was bent down, shadowed, and he looked up at me through his lashes.

The effect was an impression of trustworthiness. "Help me make tacos, and I'll answer a few of your questions."

"My questions?" Fang just smiled and nodded. I knew what he was saying. He was giving me a glimpse into his private world. A world where he could speak to my mind. Again he knew exactly what to say, at exactly the right moment.

Without a word, I moved beside him. He slid the cutting board in front of me.

"First," he said, coming behind me and placing his hands on the counter, just outside of mine, "choose your tomato." He dipped his head so his mouth was against my ear. His breath was warm, tickling my skin.

"Good. Now pick up the knife."

"Does the chef always stand this close?" I asked, not sure if I liked or feared the flutter his closeness caused inside me.

"When he's revealing culinary secrets, yes. Hold the knife like you mean it."

"I am."

"Good." Stepping back, he gave me a thorough twice over, seemingly scrutinizing any imperfections—his eyes shifted up and down, here and there. For one moment, I thought I saw a secret smile of approval. "Cooking isn't taught," Fang said. "It's inherent. Either you've got it or you don't. Like chemistry. You think you're ready for chemistry?"

I pressed the knife down through the tomato; it split in two, each half rocking gently on the cutting board. "You tell me. Am I ready for chemistry?"

Fang made a deep sound I couldn't decipher and grinned.

After dinner Fang carried our plates to the sink. "I'll wash, you dry." Hunting through the drawers to the side of the sink, he found a dish towel and slung it playfully at me. I smiled at him. A real smile. I never give those to anyone, only Nudge and Mom and sometimes, Anne.

"About those questions…" I said. "When we were at the library, were you following me…"

I trailed off, and frowned. Fang was leaning lazily against the counter; his black hair fell over his eyes from under his ball cap. A crooked smile on his lips. My thoughts dissolved into smoke and a new thought formed into my mind.

I want to kiss him. Right now…Whoa hold up, what the hell?

"Hmm?" he asked, arching his eyebrows. I shook my head and began drying some plates. We finished after five minutes. And then…we found ourselves cramped in the space near the sink. Fang moved to take the dish towel from me, and our bodies touched. Neither of us moved, holding to the fragile link that welded us together.

I stepped back fast. He turned and looked at me, those black emotionless eyes taking me in.

"Scared?" he murmured.

"No," I scoffed.

"Liar," he smiled. My heart beat speeded up.

"Like hell I'm scared of a stupid guy," I snarled. I lied.

"No?"

I spoke without thinking. "Maybe it's just that I'm scared of—" I cursed myself for even beginning the sentence. What was I supposed to say now? I was not about to admit to Fang that almost everything about him frightened me. It would be giving him permission to provoke me further. "Maybe it's just that I'm scared of…of—"

"Liking me?"

Relieved that I didn't have to finish my own sentence, I automatically answered, "Yes." I realized too late what I'd confessed. "I mean, no! Definitely no. That is not what I was trying to say!"

Fang just chuckled.

"I'm just not…very comfortable around you," I admitted, gripping the counter.

"But?"

"But I kind of feel…a scary attraction to you," I mumbled, admitting it to both of us. I mentally sighed, happy it's out. Fang smiled.

"You're an ass," I smiled, trying to push him back with my hand.

He trapped my hand against his chest and yanked my sleeve down past my wrist, covering my hand with it. Just as quickly, he did the same thing with the other sleeve. He held my shirt by the cuffs, my hands captured. My mouth opened in protest.

Reeling me closer, he didn't stop until I was directly in front of him. Suddenly he lifted me onto the counter. My face was level with his. He fixed me with a dark, inviting smile. And that's when I realized this moment had been dancing around the edge of my fantasies for several days now.

I reached up to his hat, and took it off, placing it beside me. His hair covered his forehead, black as a raven. I bit my lip and scooted closer to the edge of the counter, my legs dangling off. A part of my mind wanted to stop but the other part kept saying Yes!

He placed his hands beside my hips, moving his head closer and tilting it to the side. His scent, which was all damp dark earth, overwhelmed me. I took a deep whiff of it, then I came to my senses.

This isn't right. Fang isn't right. I can't do this with him. He's just like every other guy. He frightens me a bit in a very bad way.

"Fang you need to go," I whispered. "Yeah, you should go. Definitely go."

"You want me to go here?" his mouth was on my shoulder. "Or here?" It moved up to my neck and moved up even more. His mouth sucked at my skin, making me shiver and wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him closer. His mouth stopped at the corner of my mouth and brushed his lips against mine, sending a zillion jolts of electricity through my body. I gasped when his hands stroked the bare skin on my hips, where my sweater had ridden up.

Fang pulled away slightly and looked into my eyes, his eyes lowered towards my mouth, he was already leaning in…he's so close. Our lips were an inch apart, when I got a message. I looked down, and saw it's a message from my mom. I smiled when Fang's lips landed on my forehead. I felt him smile.

Hey sweetie! How are you?

I'll call you later, I responded.

Okay...

My eyes widened and my smile left my face. I realized what we were doing.

"You need to leave," I said. "My mom's coming in in five minutes."

I grabbed his ball cap and placed it on his head. We both smiled.

"Sweet dreams tonight, Okay?"

"Okay." (A/n: Where does that come from?!)

"About that party tomorrow night …"

"I'll think about it," I managed to say.

Fang tucked a piece of paper inside my pocket, his touch sending hot sensations down my legs. His hand lingered a few seconds more on my pocket, and his fingers slid up, brushing against my clothed leg. "Here's the address. I'll be looking for you. Come alone."

A moment later I heard the front door close behind him. A fiery blush worked its way up my face.. There was nothing wrong with fire…as long as you didn't stand too close. Something to keep in mind.

I leaned back against the cabinets, taking short, shallow breaths. Oh dear lord…