Betrayed

and done with and better if—”
    "You were there with someone," he interrupted me. "Are you going out with him?”
    I sighed. "Yes.”
    "Give me a chance to get you back, Zo.”
    I shook my head, even though his words tugged at my heart. "No, Heath, it's impossible.”
    "Why?" He slid his hand across the table and put it on top of mine. "I don't care about the vampyre stuff. You're still Zoey. The same Zoey I've known forever. The Zoey who was the first girl I ever kissed. The Zoey who knows me better than anyone else on this earth. The Zoey I dream about every night.”
    His scent drifted up to me from his hand, hot and delicious, and I could feel his pulse thumping against my fingers. I didn't want to tell him, but I had to. I looked him straight in the eyes and said, "The reason you're not over me is because when I tasted your blood that time on the school wall I started to Imprint with you. So you want me because that's what happens when a vampyre, or apparently some fledglings, drink blood from a human victim. Neferet, our High Priestess, says that you haven't Imprinted all the way with me, and if I just stay away from you it'll fade and you'll be normal again and forget about me, so that's what I've been doing." I finished in a rush. I knew he'd probably freak out and call me a monster or something, but I really hadn't had a choice, and now that he knew he could put all of this in perspective and—
    His laughter interrupted my mental tirade. He'd thrown back his head and was laughing with typical Heath exuberance, and the familiar, sweet, silly sound of it made it really hard for me not to smile at him.
    "What?" I said, trying to frown.
    "Oh, Zo, you crack me up." He squeezed my hand. "I've been crazy about you since I was eight. Like that had anything to do with you sucking my blood?”
    "Heath, believe me, we've started to Imprint.”
    "I'm cool with that." He grinned at me.
    "Will you also be cool with me outliving you by several hundred years?”
    Dorklike, he wagged his eyebrows at me. "I can think of worse things than having a hot, young vampyre chic when I'm, like, fifty.”
    I rolled my eyes. He was such a guy. "Heath, it's not that simple. There're a lot of things to consider.”
    His thumb traced a circular pattern over the top of my hand. "You always did make things too complicated. There's you and me. That's all we need to consider.”
    "That's not all there is, Heath." A thought came to me and I lifted my brows and gave him a pretend-innocent smile. "Speaking of, how's my ex-best friend Kayla?”
    Totally unaffected, he shrugged. "I dunno. I hardly ever see her anymore.
    "Why not?" That was weird. Even if he wasn't dating Kayla, they'd hung out in the same group for years, we all had.
    "It's not the same. I don't like the stuff she says." He wouldn't look at me.
    "About me?”
    He nodded.
    "What has she been saying?" I couldn't decide if I was more hurt or pissed.
    "Just stuff." He still wouldn't look at me.
    I narrowed my eyes with realization. "She thinks I had something to do with Chris.”
    He moved his shoulders restlessly. "Not you, or at least she doesn't say you. She thinks it's vampyres, though, but so do a lot of people.”
    "Do you?" I asked softly.
    His eyes shot back to mine. "No way! But something bad's happening. Someone's kidnapping football players. That's why I was here today. I'm taping up flyers with Brad's picture on them. Maybe someone will remember him being dragged away or something.”
    "I'm sorry about Chris." I laced my fingers through his. "I know you guys were friends.”
    "It sucks. I can't believe he's dead." He swallowed hard, and I knew he was trying not to cry. "I think Brad's dead, too.”
    I thought he was, too, but I couldn't say it out loud. "Maybe not. Maybe they'll find him.”
    "Yeah, maybe. Hey, Chris's funeral is Monday. Would you go with me?" .
    "I can't, Heath. Do you know what would happen if a fledgling showed up at the funeral of a kid people think was killed by a vampyre?”
    "I guess it would be bad.”
    "Yes, it would be. And that's what I've been trying to make you see. You and me together—we'd have to deal with issues like that all the time.”
    "Not when we're out of school, Zo. Then you could wear that cover-up stuff you have on your face now, and no one would even know.”
    What he was saying probably should have pissed me off, but he was so serious, so sure that if I slapped a little concealer on my tattoos everything could go back to