Crave (Harlequin Teen)

as his mouth pressed bruising kisses along my cheeks and neck…
    The look in Tristan’s eyes as he’d thrown Greg to the ground…
    Sighing, I rested my forehead in my hand, using my forearm to block my peripheral view of Tristan. Lord, how I hated this class. Everywhere else, I could stay busy, find ways to think about something else. But in here, with Tristan just inches away, it was impossible to think about anything but the past.
    A past I wanted to forget. Needed to forget, if I ever hoped to like myself again.
    Because in that moment when I’d found myself pressed against Tristan outside the cafeteria, my fingertips touching the blood on his lip, when I’d realized I was staring right into his eyes…
    I’d wanted my gaze to affect him.
    Worse yet, while part of me was happy to see him clear eyed now and able to focus on Mr. Smythe’s lecture, a darker part of me wished he hadn’t recovered at all.
    I should be locked up. I was a menace to the male half of society. And a scary freak to the other half.
    Since no one had locked me up yet, the next best thing I could do was aim for nunhood. Which wasn’t a hardship, since the only guy I wanted was a notorious player who was off-limits anyway. Mom might have been exaggerating when she said my dating someone in the Clann could start a war between them and the vampires. But just in case she wasn’t, I planned to avoid Tristan as much as possible from now on.
    If only I could stop myself from craving him every waking minute of the day!
    One of my many mistakes with him was ever allowing him to see that I still cared about him. But I wouldn’t be repeating that mistake again. I would just have to get better at hiding my emotions around him.
    Starting now.
    With a sigh, I rested my chin in my hand and tried to ignore Tristan’s long, muscled body stretched out in the desk beside me. And his soft, curly hair as he bent over to gather up his stuff from under his desk…
    “What, the view this morning wasn’t enough for you, princess?” Dylan’s too-close drawl yanked me from my thoughts.
    He was standing in front of me, planting his crotch in my direct line of sight. I’d been too lost in thought to notice the bell had rung and everyone was getting up to leave. Great.
    Don’t react, I told myself. That’s what he wants, to see you look embarrassed.
    Freezing my facial muscles into the coldest expression I could manage, I looked up at his nose. “I’m sorry, was there something to actually see?”
    Tristan snickered at my right, threatening my self-control.
    Dylan’s sneer tightened in anger. His eyes squinted. “You know, I was wrong. You’re not just a princess. You’re an ice princess. Must be why Greg Stanwick dumped you. You were too frigid for his taste.”
    If he only knew the truth. That thought curved my lips into a smile. “Ice Princess. Hmm, I kind of like that one.” It was better than some other possible names. Like monster.
    Scowling, Dylan shook his head and walked away, muttering something that sounded like “freak.”
    Like I hadn’t heard that one before. I didn’t even blink.
    The Brat Twins giggled at Dylan’s remark before they got up from their desks behind Tristan.
    Two more reasons to play the Ice Princess in here.
    I smiled to myself as I gathered my things and joined the traffic exiting the classroom. Dylan didn’t realize it, but he’d just given me the perfect strategy for the rest of the year. I could still be myself everywhere else. But in history, I would play the Ice Princess—cold, emotionless, untouchable. Dylan would get no reactions from me to feed his sadistic-bully side. The Brat Twins would be deprived of their entertainment.
    And Tristan wouldn’t see how I really felt about him.
    Tristan
    My new plan was backfiring, and I had Dylan to thank for it.
    I’d thought that playing things extra cool around Savannah for a month would make her realize I wasn’t going to stalk her, so she could relax around me. And she’d almost seemed to at the beginning of this week. But then that idiot Dylan just had to mess with her and call her an ice princess. Ever since, she’d seemed to take the jerk’s teasing to heart. Her face was like a mask, her body moving so little during class that I sometimes wondered if she were miming a statue. She blinked, breathed, took notes and read. But there was zero visibility into her real personality.
    If possible, she’d become even more untouchable.
    Having four fellow