Tempted

wanted to be away from her. He didn’t. Actually, he wanted more of her. The problem was he also wanted what was best for her—he always had. Ever since grade school. He remembered the day he fell in love with her. Her mom had freaked out on her and had taken her to some girlfriend who worked at one of those girl beauty shops. They’d decided—Zo’s mom and her girlfriend—that it would be cute to chop off all of Zo’s long, dark hair. So the next day she’d showed up for third grade with hair that was super-short and kinda weirdly sticking out all over and fuzzy looking.
    The kids had all been whispering and laughing at her. Her big brown eyes had been huge and scared, and Heath had thought he’d never seen anyone who was so beautiful. He’d told her he liked her hair—in front of the whole cafeteria at lunch. She’d looked like she was going to cry, so he’d carried her tray for her, and sat with her, even though it wasn’t cool to sit with a girl. That day she’d done something to his heart. She’d been doing something to it ever since.
    So, here he was, going to find a guy who had a piece of her heart because it was what was best for Zoey. Heath ran his hand through his hair. All of this would be over someday. Someday Zo would go back to Tulsa, and even though the House of Night would take up a bunch of her time, she’d be with him when she could. They’d go to the movies again. She’d come watch him play football at OU. It would be normal again, or as normal as it could be.
    He could hang in till then. When this crap with Kalona gotstraight—and Zo would get it straightened out, Heath was sure of it—when this crap was fixed, things would be better. He’d have his Zo back. Or at least as much of her as she could give him. And that would be enough.
    Heath followed the path that led away from the palace, still going in the general direction Stark had taken. He looked around and couldn’t see much except the big stone wall on his left, and a parklike area filled with hedges that were almost as high as his head, on his right. He studied the park as he walked, realizing the hedges created some kind of circular, interwoven pattern. He decided it must be one of those old mazes—a labyrinth, he finally remembered from the Greek mythology story about the Minotaur on the island of some rich king, whose name there was no way he could remember.
    Damn, he hadn’t realized how dark it was until he’d gotten away from the lights of the palace. It was quiet out here, too. So quiet he could hear the lapping of the waves just on the other side of the wall. Heath wondered if he should yell out for Stark, but decided, nah, like Zo, he didn’t mind a little time to himself.
    All this vamp stuff was a lot to take in, and it was normal that he needed time to process. Not that he couldn’t deal with Stark and the other vamps. Hell, he kinda liked some of the vamps—and fledglings, too. If it came right down to it, he actually thought Stark was an okay guy. It was just Kalona who was fucking things up.
    Then, as if his thoughts had drawn the immortal to him, Heath heard Kalona’s voice drifting through the empty night, and he slowed down, careful not to crunch any loose stones on the path.
    “It goes exactly as planned,” Kalona was saying.
    “I hate the subterfuge! I cannot bear that you pretend to be something you are not for her.”
    Heath recognized Neferet’s voice and he inched forward. Keeping to the deepest of the shadows, he hugged the wall, being absolutely silent. The voices were coming from the park area, ahead and to his right, and as he moved forward, there was a break in the hedge, obviously an exit, and within the labyrinth Kalona and Neferet came into view. They were standing by a fountain. Heath breathed a shallow sigh of relief. The sound of the cascading water must have beenwhat masked his footsteps. Pressing himself against the cold stone wall, he watched and listened.
    “You call it pretense. I call it another point of view,” Kalona said.
    “Which is why you can lie to her and still seem to be telling the truth,” Neferet snapped the words at him.
    Kalona shrugged. “Zoey wants truth—so it is truth that I give her.”
    “Selectively,” Neferet said.
    “Of course. But do all mortals, vampyre, human, or fledgling, not select their own truths?”
    “
Mortals
. You say that as if you are so far removed from us.”
    “I am immortal, which makes me different. Even from you,