RoseBlood(79)

I stuff my knitting and yarn into the tote on my lap as Sunny motions for Jax to take Audrey’s empty seat next to me. He eases over, keeping his head low. The spotlight blinks on, illuminating Audrey and casting the auditorium in darkness.

“All right. What’s going on, guys?” I whisper to my three rave accomplices as the instruments begin the intricate piece.

Slapping a hand over his face, Jax hunches in the seat. “I told Quan about what happened between us. I . . . wanted to know if anything weird happened with him and Sunny. I thought maybe there was a mood enhancer in the smoke during the performance or something. But Quan can’t keep his fat mouth shut and leaked it to Sunny. Audrey overheard them talking.”

Sunny punches Quan’s arm. He glares at her and a whispering argument sparks between them, leaving me and Jax uncomfortably close in our seats. A sense of dread grows within me, mirroring Audrey’s haunted vocals as they swell over the instruments and float to the crystal chandelier.

Gathering up my courage, I turn to Jax to find him studying my face intently in the dimness. So, he’s remembered more than he admitted yesterday. But he’s not acting scared, which means he still hasn’t remembered that I almost killed him.

My pulse pounds in my wrists. “What are you talking about . . . what happened between us?” I blurt, a lame attempt at playing dumb.

Jax squeezes his thighs with his fingers, his blue eyes—bright even in the shadows—fixing on mine. “Our kiss.” He squints. “Rune, don’t you remember? We were crazy. I didn’t want to stop. I’m blanking on what led up to it—if you initiated it, or if I did. Or what happened after. But I remember that. I’ve never felt so much so fast. Intense . . . uninhibited.”

His breath, scented with cinnamon gum, warms my face. I shift my gaze to the stage and watch Audrey, biting the inside of my cheek until I taste blood.

“I hate myself for hurting her,” Jax continues, intent now on the performance. “All she asked was that I didn’t distract her for a little longer. Give her space to get that scholarship and secure her future. Then, finally, we were going to go out this summer.” He moans then looks again at me. “I haven’t forgotten how worth the wait she is. But I can’t stop thinking about that kiss, either. Come on, you gotta remember. Right?”

Sunny and Quan are watching us with bated breath, waiting for my response.

My windpipe feels stuffed and cold, like a straw stuck in a milk-shake. I struggle to inhale. “I—I’m sorry. I don’t remember any of that.” I’m such a jerk, and as good of a liar as Etalon. It must be habitual for our kind. “Are you sure it wasn’t a dream?” The irony of such a question from a succubus would make me laugh, if I weren’t still struggling to accept what I am to begin with.

Jax licks his lips. “No. I remember how it tasted. Like nectar, spiked with a thousand volts of electricity. I don’t dream that vividly, Rune. We need to talk about this.”

I pry my attention from his attractive features, afraid of the intrigue there, of how it’s juxtaposed with shame and confusion. What’s to talk about? We’re both attracted to other people. You were entranced by an incubus’s song. I was driven by instinct to siphon away your energy while you were vulnerable. No other explanation necessary.

These are the things he doesn’t remember, and the things I can never share.

Sunny touches my knee and gestures to the stage. Instead of portraying madness, Audrey’s voice and body movements—not to mention her glowing aura—vacillate between betrayal and regret, completely out of character for the solo. Still, her notes are flawless, until the final cadenza, where she cracks while swallowing back a sob. She stops and the instruments follow her lead, silencing.

Her petite form slumps like a fragile doll. “I’m . . . I’m sorry!” She half shouts, half moans in a wretched attempt to save face. Then she runs backstage behind the curtains before the tremor in her voice stops echoing.

The houselights click on, washing us all in unforgiving light.

Mumbles burble up all around.

Roxie and Kat bump fists.

Bouchard struts across the stage. “Well, it would seem we have our prestigious lead role. The part of Renata goes to—”

“Wait!” I shout, standing up so fast my tote sluffs to the floor like a dead thing. Hair hangs across my eyes, graciously blurring the fifty-some students shifted in their seats to gawk at me. Audrey has lost her chance to let her paraplegic sister live vicariously through her. She’s lost that one shot at a scholarship and the future she can’t afford otherwise. And she and Jax are on the outs before they ever got to reach the supercouple status I know they’re capable of. Because of me.

Unless . . .

There’s one thing I can do to make Jax forget he ever liked kissing me, and to see that Audrey still gets her chance to shine in front of that talent scout, but my entire body quakes just considering it.

A lump of dread strangles me. I clear my throat. “I—I haven’t had my turn yet.” My statement to Madame Bouchard sounds stronger than I feel. I swallow against the lump making another appearance. “I know I can do better than those two amateurs.” The cruel insult shatters loose, jagged and cold as broken glass, cutting both my heart and my tongue.

I sense my friends’ stares of disbelief, but can’t bring myself to look their way.