Covet (Clann)

stalkers last year to keep them away from me.
    And then if he ended up flunking English and getting benched from the football games because of it, well, that would serve him right for being such a horse’s rear!
    Worse, Bethany’s car was still in the shop, so now I couldn’t even escape seeing him at Charmers practice. Every morning and afternoon, there he was, the golden prince of Jacksonville, sweetly walking Bethany to and from the edge of the track that circled the practice field where the dancers practiced all football season when the weather allowed it. And on days when rain drove us inside to practice in the girls’ gym in the basement level of the sports and arts building, Tristan was even closer, walking Bethany right up to the gym doorway just yards away from where I was setting up the sound system.
    If he’d used the same torture strategy every time, maybe I could have learned to ignore him. But Tristan was diabolically creative. Knowing me as well as he did no doubt helped. He knew that just seeing Bethany hanging on his arm was enough to set my teeth on edge. So he saved the mental imagery for English class, and simply let me “listen” in on their conversations at Charmers practice.
    I’d given up on ever getting the ink stains off my writing hand. I’d broken six pens in English class. Thankfully two of the perks of my vampire genes were speed-reading and a nearly photographic memory, so I could read from the textbook what I missed in the class lectures.
    That didn’t exactly help my steadily rising stress levels, though.
    The week of Halloween, I decided to get smart about English class. On Tuesday, I started taking notes with a pencil instead. Every time Tristan’s thoughts managed to make me lose control and break it, I simply used a sharpener I’d also brought so I could keep using the broken pieces to write with.
    By the time class was nearly over, my pencil was down to only two inches. Which Tristan of course found vastly amusing.
    Boy, you vamps really have anger management issues, he thought, lounging in his desk with his arms crossed over his chest and his long legs stretched out in front of him.
    If only the ESP was a two-way thing, the piece of my mind that I would give him…
    Do y’all have a group for that? he thought, one corner of his full lips kicking up. A vampire therapist could make some serious dough teaching that. If he survived the sessions with his clients, that is.
    Okay, now that made me smile a little. Maybe that was a good career option for me. Vampire therapist, specializing in anger management issues. If I could learn to control my own temper first, that is.
    How would a vampire therapist go about advertising her services? Probably by word of mouth. Maybe I could take referrals from the council, offer counseling to help rehab rogue vamps who lost their cool in public…
    Of course, maybe I should sign up for a few sessions myself, he thought, the words quieter now in his mind. Was he still “talking” to me? Man, the other day when I learned about you and Ron, I wanted to… The words faded away, replaced by vivid images of Tristan pummeling the crap out of Ron’s face.
    I didn’t know what was more shocking…that he thought Ron and I were dating and was upset about it, or how quickly my own fury rose up and out of control.
    “Do it and I’ll—” I snarled, leaning over the armrest of my desktop, my nails digging into the wood.
    “You’ll what?” Tristan murmured, barely turning his head to look at me with raised eyebrows. What would you do to protect your precious boy toy?
    Someone was grabbing my shoulders from behind, but I couldn’t see them. All I could see was the way Tristan’s eyes crackled with heat like twin emeralds held before a roaring fireplace. Eyes I wanted to poke out right now.
    “Savannah, chill out,” someone murmured against my ear. Ron leaning across the aisle at my left. But that wasn’t what finally brought me back to earth. Nor was it Mrs. Knowles standing at my side, also demanding that I calm down.
    It was the two fangs pricking at the inside of my lower lip. That sensation alone sent a cold wash of fear cascading down my entire body, effectively drowning the fury. And right on its heels came the stupid tears to fill and burn my eyes like poison my body refused to process. They spilled out and down my cheeks faster than I could wipe them away with my hands.
    Furious embarrassment over crying in front of Tristan only