The Indigo Spell (Bloodlines #3)(50)

"You haven't painted anything," he said softly.

"That's because I have zero creativity," I told him.

"Everyone's got some creativity," he insisted. He handed me the silver brush and slid over to join me against the wall. Our legs and arms touched. He laid out his own AYE shirt across his lap. "Go ahead. Add something, anything."

I shook my head in protest and tried to hand him the brush. "I can't draw or paint. I'll ruin it."

"Sydney." He pushed the brush back into my hand. "It's a pirate skeleton, not the Mona Lisa. You're not going to decrease its value."

Maybe not, but I had a hard time imagining what I could possibly add to this. I could do a lot of things, but this was out of my league - especially compared to his skill. Something in his expression drove me, however, and after a lot of thought, I gave my best shot at drawing a tie around the skeleton's neck. Adrian frowned.

"Is that a noose?"

"It's a tie!" I cried, trying not to feel offended.

He laughed, clearly delighted at this. "My mistake."

"He can go to a boardroom meeting," I added, feeling a need to defend my work. "He's very proper now."

Adrian seemed to like that even more. "Of course he is. Proper and dangerous." A little of his mirth faded, and he grew pensive as he studied me, holding me in his gaze. "Just like you."

I'd been so worried about the artistic challenge that I wasn't aware of just how close he'd moved to me until now. So many details came into focus. The shape of his lips, the line of his neck. "I'm not dangerous," I breathed.

He brought his face toward mine. "You are to me."

And somehow, against all reason, we were kissing. I closed my eyes, and the world around me faded. The noise, the smoke . . . it was gone. All that mattered was the taste of his mouth, a mix of cloves and mints. There was a fierceness in his kiss, a desperation . . . and I answered, just as hungry for him. I didn't stop him when he pulled me closer, so that I almost sat on his lap. I'd never been wrapped around someone's body like that, and I was shocked at how eagerly mine responded. His arm went around my waist, pulling me onto him further, and his other hand slid up the back of my neck, getting entangled in my hair. Amazingly, the wig stayed on. He took his lips away from my mouth, gently trailing kisses down to my neck. I tipped my head back, gasping when the intensity returned to his mouth. There was an animalistic quality that sent shock waves through the rest of my body. Some Alchemist voice warned me that this was exactly how a vampire would feed, but I had no fear. Adrian wouldn't hurt me, and I needed to know just how hard he could kiss me and -

"Oh my God!"

Adrian and I jerked apart as though someone had thrown cold water on us, though our legs stayed entangled. I glanced around in a panic, half expecting to see an outraged Stanton standing over us. Instead, I looked up into the terrified face of a girl I didn't know. She wasn't even looking at us.

"You guys won't believe what happened!" she exclaimed, directing her words to our fellow artists. She pointed vaguely behind her. "Over across the street at Kappa, they found one of their girls unconscious, and they can't wake her up. I don't know what happened, but it sounds like she was attacked. There's police out front and everything."

Adrian and I stared at each other for one shocked moment. Then, wordlessly, we both stood up. He held my hand to steady me until my trembling legs strengthened. I'm weak because of this news, I told myself. Not because I was just making out with a vampire.

But those dangerous and intoxicating kisses faded almost instantly when we returned to Lynne's sorority. It was busy with frightened people, and campus security moved in and out, allowing us to step right inside the open door.

"What happened?" I asked a brunette standing nearby.

"It's Lynne," she said, biting her lips. "They just found her in an empty auditorium."

Something in the way she spoke made me uneasy. "Is she . . . alive?"

The girl nodded. "I don't know . . . I think so, but they said there's something really wrong. She's unconscious and looks . . . well . . . old."

I met Adrian's eyes and vaguely noticed he had silver paint in his hair. I'd still been holding the brush when I'd wrapped my arms around him. "Damn," he murmured. "Too late."

I wanted to scream in frustration. We'd been so close to warning her. She'd allegedly left just before we'd arrived. What if we'd come sooner? What if we'd visited her before the other two girls? I'd chosen the order randomly. Worse, what if we'd been able to find her instead of having art time with the drunken sorority girls?

What if I hadn't been all over Adrian? Or maybe he'd been all over me. Whatever you wanted to call it, I hadn't exactly resisted.

The more we learned, however, the more unlikely it seemed we would've been able to do anything if we'd stuck around Lynne's house and investigated. Nobody knew where she'd gone. Only one person had seen her leave, a girl with curly blond hair who frustrated the campus police with her vague answers.

"I'm sorry," she kept saying. "I just . . . I can't remember the girl she left with."

"Nothing?" asked one of the officers. "Height? Age? Hair color?"