"He broke up with you?" Olivia exclaimed as she sat down on the bed next to me.

My eyes brimmed with tears as a fresh stab of pain pierced the center of my chest. "He actually slammed the door as I walked out. Can you believe that?"

Olivia was spending the night just like the old days. I could almost pretend we were human again, talking about boys and clothes and life after high school. I experienced a sudden sense of déjà vu from when we had hashed out the details of yet another break-up.

"But John is in love with you," Olivia argued. "Has he gone completely mental?"

With a deep sigh, I gave Olivia the condensed version of the story Josiah had told me earlier that morning, though it felt like a lifetime ago now. "John said that until I can accept that his feelings for me are real, we should take a break."

"Wow," she said, shaking her head. "I thought the two of you would be together, like, forever."

I swallowed the lump caught in my throat, determined not to cry. I had done enough of that already. "He let me taste his blood," I said, my voice wavering. "He was about to taste mine. It was such a beautiful moment." I glanced at her through a veil of tears. "Was it even real, Libby?"

Olivia's mouth turned down as she patted my knee. "Some might say you deserve it."

I swiped at a tear, anger instantly replacing grief. "Why would you say something like that?"

"I'm not the one saying you deserve it—I don't think you do—only that some people have been calling you names behind your back."

My mouth popped open. "Like who, and what sort of names?"

Olivia's shoulders rose and fell. She wouldn't meet my eyes as she pawed through the basket of nail polish sitting between us. "Let's just say I'm a nice girl, and nice girls don't use that kind of language."

"Whatever."

She shrugged again. "Well, you have been sort of witchy to everyone lately. People at school have noticed."

"People at school don't realize I'm trying to save their human asses. I'm seriously stressed out."

Olivia finally looked at me. "You're stressing out because that's what you do best. You have this, I don't know, God complex or something."

"What?"

"It means you have an inflated sense of self-worth."

"I know what it means, Libby! And you couldn't be more wrong. If anything, I'm constantly doubting myself."

I flopped back against my pillow, throwing my arm over my face in hopes of blotting out the world. "Why are you psycho-analyzing me anyway instead of just listening to my problems?"

"I really liked that psychology class I took as an elective last year. I'm thinking about declaring it as my major in college."

"It was a rhetorical question." I glared at her, silently marveling at how she could even think about college when we had an entire town to save from the likes of Conrad Abernathy and his crazy daughter.

"Anyway," she said. "As much as you're entitled to your feelings, John is entitled to his. I mean, can you blame him for being upset? It's gotta suck to find out that you've been compelled to make someone fall in love with you, all for the sole purpose of fulfilling some diabolical plan. John's convinced his feelings for you are real, but at the same time, he knows what Margaret is capable of. I'm sure he has his doubts, you know? And then there's this whole thing with Josiah."

"Leave Josiah out of it," I said, rolling off the bed and going to sit at my vanity.

"You can't keep ignoring him," she said to my backside. "Be straight with me, Blake. Do you have feelings for him?"

I stared at Olivia's reflection in the mirror as she picked between the various shades of polish. She had been my best friend for most of my life and theoretically would be for all eternity. If I couldn't tell her how I really felt about Josiah, who could I tell?

"I don't know," I said, running my palm along the prickly bristles of my hairbrush as a physical distraction to my feelings. "Maybe."

"I'll take that as a yes."

I turned on the stool to face her. "I didn't say that. Besides, anything I might feel for Josiah is based on this bond-thing that we share and not because of any romantic feelings."

"Yeah, keep telling yourself that."

"I'm serious!"

"I feel nothing for Thomas except friendship," she said pointedly, finally settling on a color. "And Thomas has no romantic feelings for me. Maybe that'll change in the future, once June is gone, maybe not. The thing is, kids at school can call you all the names they want, but what they don't realize is that you are intensely loyal to the people you love."

I laughed. "Try telling that to Zach."

"You broke up with Zach because you were under John's magical voodoo love spell. Because he had been compelled by Margaret to make you fall in love with him." She gave the bottle a vigorous shake. "You know what? This entire storyline is getting extremely complicated. Seriously, it would make a really awesome book." Her face lit up. "We should totally write it! Maybe get it optioned as a movie. People never get sick of a good vampire book-to-screen franchise. We could make millions!"

"Yeah, good luck with that. Anyway, you're getting off track."

She rolled her eyes. "All I'm saying is that you never would have broken up with Zach if you hadn't been under John's influence. You've been loyal to him since the ninth grade."

"Except for the fact I had a secret crush on John while Zach and I were still together," I admitted.

Olivia didn't bat an eye. "Even people who are madly in love can have the occasional secret crush. I have a mega crush on Prince Harry. Does that mean I love Marcus any less? No."

"It's not the same thing," I said. "Prince Harry is totally inaccessible, whereas Zach, John, and Josiah are all here, in my life."

Libby shook her head. "Everyone knew how in love you and Zach were, which was why it was such a shock when you suddenly broke up with him for seemingly no reason at all."

"And everyone at school thought I was insane and instantly started trash-talking me. Yeah, they were so sympathetic. From their point of view, the break-up was completely my fault."

My thoughts drifted back to summer when I had been madly in love with Zach. Then without explanation, my feelings for him had started to fade, as though our relationship had been nothing but a dream from which I was slowly waking. Though I had been completely aware of what I was doing when I ended our relationship, my actions hadn't been entirely my own. I had blamed myself, of course, chalking it up to the fact I was the worst girlfriend on the planet. To finally learn that Margaret had been pulling the strings all along was some consolation, but not much. The damage had been done. Too many hearts had been broken.

"Don't be so dramatic," Olivia said as she uncapped the polish. "If people at school knew the truth, they'd be calling Margaret the nasty names instead of you."

"Great," I said. "Then let's hold an assembly after winter break and you can share with everyone what really happened."

"Your sarcasm is so refreshing." Olivia began quietly applying polish to her nails with careful strokes, her bottom lip caught between her teeth.

"Why do you think Margaret has it out for me?" I wondered some moments later. "We were practically strangers before I became a vampire. I don't get it."

"Isn't it obvious?"

"If it were obvious, I wouldn't be asking."

"Aside from you being a Compeller," she said, "think about it. Once upon a time, Margaret declared her feelings for Josiah and was under the impression he was madly in love with her. Turns out that was just a sham. Then you come along, reminding him of the human woman he once loved and lost. He's tasked with the job of watching you from afar, his feelings for you growing stronger as the years go by. It really doesn't get any more romantic than that, Blake."

"Do I really want to be with a guy who likes me because I remind him of his dead wife?"

Olivia rolled her eyes. "Give Josiah a little credit, Blake. I'm sure he's come to terms with the fact that you are not, indeed, his wife, and instead has the hots for you because of your winning personality."

"Uh . . ."

"Anyway, Margaret can't help but be jealous, and the only logical thing for her to do in that twisted mind of hers is to take it out on you."

"So this has all been one big game to Margaret?"

"Isn't everything just one big game to her?" She capped the bottle and began blowing on the nails of her left hand.

My head felt like it was going to explode. I swiveled around on the stool, resting my elbows on the vanity and wrapping my fingers around my temples.

"Hey," Olivia said, her voice gentle. "We never talked about what happened at the party the other night. Are you okay? What Mr. Abernathy did—making you drink Zach's blood—that was a dick move."

"Can we pretend it never happened?"

"I once tried to ignore the 'C' I got on a geometry test. That didn't go over too well."

I sighed. "I have tasted the blood of three different men. Some might call me a blood whore."

Olivia laughed. "Don't be an idiot. You bit Josiah's lip in self-defense when he practically forced himself on you. Zach doesn't count because he's a human, and human blood is what vampires drink, so a big fat duh to whoever might give you a hard time about that. As for John, that was by mutual consent."

Thinking of the moment John and I had shared by the pool sent a fresh wave of anguish pulsing through my body. The room in my heart where John used to reside felt empty now. Only then did I understand what Zach must have gone through during our break-up.

"Would it be wrong to text John?"

"Absolutely," Olivia replied.

"Not even to tell him how sorry I am for not believing him?"

"Do you believe him?" Olivia asked. I must have hesitated a moment too long because she added, "He was right. Until you're convinced that his feelings for you are the real deal, you should keep your distance."

There was a knock at the door then and my mother pushed it open, holding a big bowl of popcorn in one hand and two cans of soda tucked in the crook of her elbow. "I thought you girls might like a snack."

"Thanks, Mrs. Kinsley-Ehlert," Olivia said, hopping off the bed to help my mom.

"I was thinking of ordering pizza for dinner. Do you still like mushrooms, Libby?"

Olivia forced a smile. "Love 'em!"

"Great. I'll make the call in another hour or so. I'm just finishing up some work."

"Thanks for the snacks, Mom."

She backed out of the room, closing the door behind her. Olivia looked at me and stuck out her tongue. "I don't know about you, but this popcorn smells like crap. Can we flush it down the toilet?"

Feeling inspired, I focused my attention on her. "Eat a piece of popcorn."

Plucking a single kernel from the bowl, Olivia brought it to her mouth, her nose crinkling in involuntary reflex. And yet she put it in her mouth and chewed. "Ugh!" she said a few seconds later. "You compelled me, didn't you?"

Laughing, I handed her the sodas and took the bowl. "You dump those and I'll deal with this."

Bowl in hand, I made my way to the balcony. I was about to get rid of the evidence over the edge of the stone wall when a voice from my right made me jump and nearly drop the dish on the ground.

"How long have you been out here?" I exclaimed.

Josiah shrugged, which might have meant anything from five minutes to five hours. Another thought occurred to me just then. "How much did you hear?" I did a mental rewind, trying to remember exactly what Olivia and I had said about him.

"You can't be here," I whispered, not waiting for him to reply. "Olivia's inside. She'll see you and get the wrong idea."

"Which is what?"

"That we have something to hide," I said.

"Do we?" It was already dark outside, but I thought I detected a hint of a smile. He stepped closer and scooped a handful of popcorn from the bowl.

"Gross," I said when he put it in his mouth. "How can you eat that?"

"The trick is to focus on the memory of what it used to taste like, instead of how it tastes now."

"No thanks." I dumped the popcorn over the edge. "Josiah, you can't live in the past. I am not your wife. I can never replace her."

"I was under the impression we were talking about popped corn as opposed to my deceased wife."

"What's taking you so long?" came Olivia's voice from the bedroom. She pulled open the doors, coming to an abrupt halt when she saw Josiah. "Oh," she said, her eyes darting between us. "I'll just . . . leave you alone."

"It's not necessary," I said. "Nothing is going on."

"Of course not," Olivia said, smiling slightly. "Nevertheless . . ." She turned and closed the doors behind her.

"What do you want?" I said to Josiah, though with only a fraction of my usual hostility. It was getting exhausting staying angry at him, and now that I knew his story, there wasn't much reason for it.

Josiah produced three pints of blood from the inside of his coat. "John asked that I deliver your blood directly to you from now on."

I took the offered blood, my eyes stinging with fresh tears. "Oh."

Lifting my chin, Josiah forced me to meet his gaze. "Tell me what is wrong."

I took a small step back, breaking the physical contact as I clutched the blood to my chest. "I told John what you told me, about Margaret compelling him and . . . all that," I said with a wave of my hand. "Let's just say he didn't take the news well. He told me we should take a break."

"You are no longer together?"

"Don't sound so happy," I said.

"Your unhappiness does not make me happy."

I took a deep breath, the air in my lungs hitching. I refused to cry in front of Josiah. "Despite knowing what Margaret did, I still care for him."

"But you do not trust his feelings for you."

"How can I?"

Wordlessly, Josiah turned and rested his elbows on the ledge, leaning forward and staring out into the night. Mimicking his posture, we stayed that way in companionable silence for some moments.

"After you were bit and infected," Josiah finally said, "I watched John watching you. He has been laboring under the belief that he was the only one who loved you, who felt any concern for your welfare. Though I was willing to let you die to spare you the alternative of this cursed life, he refused to do so."

"Which was probably a result of Margaret's compulsion," I pointed out. "Not because he actually loved me."

"If there is one thing I have learned in this long life," he whispered, "it is that loving someone often means risking everything."

Without another word, Josiah vaulted over the balcony wall, leaving me feeling even more confused than ever before.

**********

My heart and head spent the next twenty-four hours locked in a silent battle of wills as I contemplated Josiah's words. He had said that loving someone often meant risking everything. If that was true, then I was willing to swallow my pride and risk that I had been wrong. I had been so obsessed with John's feelings before that I failed to see the sincerity of his love now. With John, the past did not matter. I was willing to risk my heart—my everything—if it meant we could be together again.

With renewed hope, I drove to John's house later that night, Christmas carols blasting at full volume on the radio. I parked curbside and flicked on the overhead light. Tilting the mirror, I poofed my curls and applied one more coat of gloss to my lips. Then I marched up the front steps, ready to break down the front door and declare that I had come to my senses. I was ready to accept John's love as truth, and more than ready to make it up to him in whatever way I could.

The winter solstice had arrived dark and overcast, as it did almost every year, with no stars or moon to illuminate the night. Still, the living room lamps inside John's house blazed warmly in invitation. From my vantage point, I had a clear view of the couch, on which I saw John. I smiled at the sight of his straight shoulders, his dark hair mussed and standing on end as it so often did when he ran his hands through it. He'd probably been missing me just as much as I'd been missing him.

And then I realized he wasn't alone.

The breath caught in my lungs as my brain interpreted the images on the other side of the window, arranging them into a scene I didn't want to believe. John and Hannah were kissing. Each other.

I stood immobile, waiting for John to push Hannah away, thinking maybe she had made an unwanted advance and I simply had unfortunate timing. But when John wrapped his arms around Hannah and pulled her down on the couch, out of my line of sight, I knew it was time to leave.

I could have confronted them, but I turned on my heel and stumbled down the steps, skidding on the icy concrete path as I made a hasty getaway. My hands and legs trembled with the shock of what I had seen, and my heart hammered so violently that the blood thundered in my ears. Swiping angrily at the tears clouding my vision, I jammed my key in the ignition and gave it a vicious twist, startling my car to life.

Anger. Embarrassment. Humiliation.

All of those emotions swirled and coalesced under the surface of my skin, making my face burn. I had beat myself up in an attempt to untangle the mess that had become John's and my relationship, picking apart one snarl only to have another take its place. But witnessing John practically devouring Hannah's face just now . . . well, it was pretty obvious that he had moved on.

I drove on autopilot, circling the streets of downtown as I tried unsuccessfully to gain some sense of self-control. With Christmas less than a week away and the so-called spirit of peace and happiness settling over the town and spreading its magic, human couples walked together on the sidewalks, leaning against each other, joy evident on their stupid faces as they held hands and laughed too loudly. All their happiness did was fuel my anger. I tuned the radio to some station playing vintage Nine Inch Nails and rolled down my window. Stopping at a red light, I cranked up the volume as loud as it would go, straining my poor car's speakers and drowning out the sound of the brass band playing a seasonal concert in the square. Some hippie mom standing on the corner with her two kids in tow shot me a nasty look. I flipped her off, laughing maniacally at the open-mouthed shock on her face as the light turned green and I sped away.

With nowhere else to go, I finally ended up at the lake. The dark was all-consuming, except for the intermittent pools of light from the security lamps casting their downward glow. If I were human, I would have been scared of something or someone lurking in the shadows. But the park was abandoned now. I was just as physically alone as I was emotionally alone.

I made my way to the edge of the water. Rage giving way to grief, I stared numbly at the vast stretch of lake, serene despite its breadth and fathomless depth. More than anything, I wanted to step out onto that thin crust of ice, to fall through the almost nonexistent barrier between this world and that one, and to lose myself in that cold, inky-black water. To drown the hurt and cleanse my heart of the love I had felt for John, and the love he claimed to have felt for me.

I sensed him before I heard him.

His hand closed lightly around my shoulder, tentative, and I turned to him without hesitation. Silently, he wiped away a trailing tear with his thumb and asked in a whisper, "Why are you crying?"

"I was stupid," I said just as quietly. "How could I have been so stupid?"

"Look at me." I did as Josiah said. He was without his customary hat this evening, and his hair looked unnaturally dark as it spilled in thick waves over his shoulders. "You are not stupid."

"John said he loved me. I believed him."

"What happened?"

I took a deep breath, nearly unable to admit the truth out loud. "I saw him kissing someone else."

Josiah's eyes widened marginally and then narrowed. "You have been taken advantage of," he said, without asking for specifics. "You were misled. I told you what Margaret did."

"And yet I let John convince me that he loved me." My voice trembled. "I let him make me feel bad for not believing him. And after driving myself crazy going back and forth about it, I was ready to admit that he was right. I went over to his house to tell him so and . . . well, you can use your imagination."

"He hurt you." There was a hard edge to Josiah's voice that I had heard only a few times before. It sent an army of chills skittering up my spine.

"I feel like such a fool."

Josiah pulled me roughly against him, rocking me off balance so that I was forced to brace my arms against his chest. But when he threaded his fingers through my hair and cupped the base of my skull with his hand, an uncustomary tenderness radiated from him. "I am sorry."

Another tear escaped and I nodded. He relaxed his arms then and I stepped back a few inches, looking up into his face. A yearning was there, visible to me now that John had removed himself from the equation and the haze of confusion and doubt had lifted with his going. Without thinking—I was done with thinking—I stood on my toes and pressed my lips against Josiah's. Taken off guard, he did not immediately respond, but then his hands gripped my arms and he broke free.

"You told me you cannot be a substitute for my dead wife," he said somewhat breathlessly. "I will not be a substitute for John."

For nearly two months I had suppressed everything but rage and hatred for Josiah. John had been such a central part of my life that to admit what I'd been starting to feel for Josiah, even to myself, would be like throwing my entire world out of alignment. Now that John had effectively pulverized my heart and cast its ashes to the wind, why shouldn't I give in to temptation? My body burned with it. I knew Josiah's did, too.

As though divining my unspoken thoughts, Josiah pulled me to him again, both hands cupping my face, not allowing me to look anywhere but his eyes. For the first time, I was aware of him not merely as the vampire he'd been for the past century, nor as my sire, but as a man—strong and commanding and yearning for companionship. Josiah had been married. He'd had a child. He had a breadth of knowledge and experience that I lacked, and my knees nearly buckled with the understanding that I was in way over my head.

Slowly and very carefully, Josiah bent his face to mine, his lips and mouth melding to my own. There was a beautiful desperation to the kiss, a quiet intensity that took me completely by surprise. I never would have thought a man such as Josiah could be so gentle.

He pulled away many moments later, leaving me unsteady on my feet. There was a smile on his mouth—a genuine smile—that I had never seen before. It creased the corners of his eyes and completely transformed his face.

"I have been waiting for that kiss for a very long time," he said.

"You've been my sire since October," I pointed out. "That's not a very long time to wait."

He brushed the hair away from my face, his thumb gently tracing my cheekbone. "I have loved you for years, and not some contrived love born of manipulation or a forced bond. I have grown to love you for your own sake, Blake Ehlert, for the strong and spirited girl you once were and for the brave and selfless woman you have become."

"Josiah—"

He stopped my words with yet another kiss, sending a fresh wave of heat shooting from the soles of my feet to the crown of my head that I was certain would blast a beacon of light into the stratosphere.

"And yet you doubt yourself still," he said against my mouth, his hands settling on my hips and pulling me closer. "You do not see what I see. Why?"

I shook my head. "Because I have never been anyone other than myself. I was never someone particularly special to begin with."

Josiah's eyes searched my face, his forehead wrinkling. He pulled me into a crushing embrace. I closed my eyes and reveled in his distinct scent of citrus and cloves, allowing myself—for once—to lose myself in the warmth of his protective hold. Josiah towered over me, and when his arms were around me, it was easy to disappear in the expanse of his broad chest.

And yet it was not a place I could hide forever.

We had crossed a line that couldn't be uncrossed. Still, we were not together. We couldn't be. If seeing John and Hannah kissing had taught me anything, it was that I couldn't be with anyone until this conflict with Mr. Abernathy was resolved. Love was a complication I simply couldn't afford, at least not right now.

Being in love with Zach had been easy and without difficulties. My parents, married forever, made it seem easy. However, I was beginning to realize relationships like theirs took a considerable amount of work. Being in a relationship was a constant tug and pull between two people that required continuous nurturing to remain functional. Being in lust was easy, but actually loving someone took patience, understanding, and sacrifice. Although I was capable of all those things, there was too much going on in my life to give any sort of relationship, whether it be with John or Josiah, the attention and energy it required to thrive. I had broken things off prematurely with Zach only to tumble headfirst into an at-times tumultuous relationship with John. I refused to make that same mistake with Josiah, no matter how physically attracted to him I was and despite the indisputable bond we shared.

"I know," Josiah said, resignation in his voice.

I met his eyes. "You know?"

He laughed under his breath. "You forget how attuned I am to your feelings." He kissed me once more. Lovely as it was, it was filled with none of the heated passion from moments before. Josiah took a step back, releasing me from his embrace.

"You must reconcile your feelings for John," he said. "Once and for all. I have waited for you this long. I will wait for you another hundred years if I must."

I nodded, not sure if I could speak around the lump caught in my throat. I had never been the girl over whom guys fought. After all, I had always been with Zach. After I broke up with him and was infected with vampire venom, the abrupt change in my personality sent everyone scuttling in different directions. Still, I had somehow found myself caught in the middle of these two vampires. While romantic in theory, in reality, it was just plain exhausting. I couldn't be Team John or Team Josiah right now. I needed to be Team Blake for a change.

Seeing John and Hannah together had made things infinitely clearer in that respect. Whatever guilt I'd felt for questioning John's true feelings had been swept away like a pile of debris. In its place was a renewed determination to get on with my life and save my home and town once and for all.

*****

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