“It’s you,” I breathed in horror. “It’s that bond. You’re doing this to me through that bond.” I began backing away from Bo, betrayal and anguish rising up inside me. “You’re doing this to me on purpose!”
“Ridley, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are. You’re making me feel this way.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Yes you are.” It was easy to convince myself that the way I felt about him—the desperation that I felt to be with him, the need I felt to have him near—was manipulated, manufactured. It was easier to believe that than to believe that feeling like I couldn’t live without him was real.
“Why, Ridley? Why would I do that? To what end?”
“You’re using me. You- you’re—” I stammered, not having a good answer.
“No, I’m not!” Bo reached for me, grabbing my shoulders. “It doesn’t work that way. But even if it did, I would never, never do that to you. What you feel is real. Even if I wanted to, my blood is not powerful enough to control you.”
“But Mom was acting all smitten with Lars. He was doing that to her, just like you’re doing this to me,” I accused bitterly.
Bo squeezed, his fingers biting into my arms. I flinched and he immediately released me, dropping his hands to his sides where they curled into tight fists.
“No, I’m not. You saw the way people reacted to Lars. It’s because he’s so powerful, his blood is so potent. His presence is like a drug,” he said.
I had to admit that Lars did have a very profound affect on people, one even I’d reacted to a little. That also probably explained why Bo hadn’t thought much of my temporary thrall. He’d known what it was.
“I’m not that strong yet. Even with our bond, I couldn’t make you do anything that you didn’t want to.”
On the heels of that thought was one that was even worse, or at least it seemed that way to me.
“Is that why you have feelings for me? Because you drank my blood?” It was bad enough to think that my feelings weren’t real; it was nearly intolerable to think that Bo’s weren’t. It was devastating to think that his attraction was all about my blood, not my heart, not me, that it was chemically-induced.
“Of course not,” he declared vehemently. “Naturally, I crave it. More than I can even describe, but it’s not you. The way I feel about you has absolutely nothing to do with your blood. Yes, I felt drawn to find you, probably because of the bond, but that link doesn’t make you fall in love. If anything, it clouds my feelings for you.”
Though not intentionally, he’d made an admission of sorts, one that was not lost on me.
“Are you saying that you’re in love with me?”
“My god, yes!” He flung his arms wide in exasperation.
Against my will, my heart swelled. I watched him, and his reaction seemed authentic, his frustration genuine. Could he be telling the truth? All our time together had felt real, on both sides, and I wanted so badly to believe that it was.
“What did you think this was all about?”
“How am I supposed to know? I can’t read minds you know,” I said, a little frustrated myself.
“Sometimes I wish you could,” he claimed, running his fingers through his hair. The gesture left several pieces sticking straight up, begging for me to smooth them. But I resisted, needing to maintain distance from him so I could figure out what to do now.
“So what do we do about Lars?”
Bo’s brows snapped together. “I think I might need to pay Lucius a visit.”
Bo had said Lucius was an elder, someone who’d answered many of his questions and explained things to him. Though I wished it otherwise, Bo hadn’t managed to convince me that all this—our relationship, his feelings, my feelings—wasn’t fabricated and it didn’t set well with me. I wondered if maybe Lucius could answer some questions for me as well.
“Could I go with you? I mean, this is my mother we’re talking about.” I tacked that last on there to sway Bo in case he was considering saying no.
He shrugged. “I don’t see why not.”
His consent seemed casual enough and I really needed some objective answers, information that it sounded like this Lucius would be able to provide.
“When can we go?”
“How about tomorrow after school?”
“I’ve got practice. Can we do it Wednesday? It’s our off day this week.”
“Wednesday’s fine, but we probably shouldn’t put it off any longer than that,” he warned.
“Alright. Wednesday it is.”
********
The next day I felt out of sorts. For virtually the first time since I’d met him, I looked forward to time away from Bo. My heart and my body ached when he left the night before, and it was all I could do not to ask him to stay, but I just couldn’t seem to shake those creeping doubts that had cropped up as a result of our conversation.
I had a headache from the frown that I knew I was wearing. Not being around Bo, not giving in to my feelings for him and my desire to be near him, was wearing on me. I was determined, however, to resist as much as possible until I’d had a chance to interrogate Lucius.
When lunch rolled around, I was glad when Savannah corralled me to her table. At least she would alleviate the uncomfortable tension that I felt existed between me and Bo.
Turns out, she managed much more than that. Savannah was quite entertaining. It wasn’t hard to see why Devon and Bo liked her so much.
“…but that hair! There was probably a disturbance in The Force when she got out of bed this morning,” Savannah was saying. “I wanted to poke out my own eyes when I passed her in the hall.”
Devon chuckled, eyeing Savannah with nothing short of adoration. “You know what I love about you?”
“Um, everything?” She looked comically hopeful.
Devon chuckled again. “I meant aside from your abundant humility.”
“My outrageous fashion sense?”
“Fashion sense?” Devon looked pointedly at Savannah’s black fedora. “Not quite. I was referring to your complete lack of theatricality.”