Uninvited (Uninvited, #1)(26)

A slow hiss escapes me. “How can you treat me like this?”

She crosses her arms. “I’m only glad that we found out. Before you hurt one of us.”

I tremble from the shock of her words. She actually thinks I’m dangerous?

“Leave Zac alone. I know you think you would never harm him, but all carriers think that at first. And then they snap. It’s always family and friends that get hurt. It’s just a matter of time. . . .”

Before you snap. She didn’t finish the sentence, but the words were there as if she had uttered them aloud.

I’m tempted to throw my drink in her face, but instead I tighten my fingers around the cup. That would only prove her point. That I’m some volatile person about to go off the deep end. Instead, I laugh. It’s a brittle sound and Zac looks at me uneasily. “Since when did you become any expert on . . . anything, Tori?”

It’s mean, but I’m feeling mean. And angry.

Her eyes narrow to bright little slits and I start to suspect that she is going to throw her drink on me.

“Come on.” Zac pulls me after him. At first, I think we’re leaving, but he steers us up the stairs, his strides determined, his steps resounding thuds on the limestone.

I glance quickly behind me. Tori’s face is flushed, splotchy like it gets when she works out.

“Where are we going?” I ask when we clear the top.

“Carlton’s room. We can have some privacy there.”

A relieved breath rushes out of me. We can finally talk about everything and figure stuff out. We need to come up with a plan if we’re going to make this work. I catch myself. Something pinches sharply in the center of my chest. I’ve never thought in terms of if before when it came to us.

Obviously, we’ve hit a hurdle. We no longer attend the same school. Our friends aren’t our friends anymore. That will make being together a struggle—but not impossible. Not as long as it’s what we want. And Zac must want us to work out. He’s here. I’m here. We’re together now. He came back after the shock of learning that I’m a carrier.

I step inside Carlton’s room. It’s full of rich browns. A mahogany dresser and bed. A desk with a built-in case behind it that overflows with rugby and diving trophies. On the paneled wall hangs a photograph of our entire senior class at our fall retreat. I’m on Zac’s shoulders, waving for the camera. That day seems very long ago.

I turn around to face him, to explain to him how much it means to me that he’s standing beside me when none of our friends are. But he’s there. In front of me, sliding his cool palms along my cheeks, delving his fingers into my hair, pressing his mouth over mine and drowning out any chance for words.

For now, this is enough.





UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

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Seventy percent of all violent crimes are committed by offenders known to the victim. This figure jumps dramatically—to 90 percent when the perpetrator is female, with the most common target being significant others and family members. . . .


—Lecture from Dr. Wainwright to the National Center for Analysis of Violent Crime at Quantico





TEN




FOR WHAT SEEMS LIKE FOREVER, ZAC KISSES ME long and deep, nearly smothering me. I hold his wrists, loving that this is the first thing he does. Almost like he has to do it. Like he can’t wait. After the ugliness of downstairs, it’s a stamp of affirmation. I’m the only thing that matters to him. Not the opinions of others. Not my carrier status. Just me.

He nudges me back and we fall on the bed, bodies tangling together. I laugh lightly against the insistent press of his mouth, but even that sound is quickly swallowed up in his anxious lips.

The heavy weight of his right leg curls over my hip, pinning me. He’s heavy. Solid. I press a palm against his firm chest, reveling in the feel of his heartbeat, strong and swift.

I break from his lips to speak, to get out the words I want to say, need to say, but he quickly captures my mouth again. His hand flows along the slope of my thigh, pulling me in closer to his body.

“Zac,” I gasp.

“Davy,” he returns, still kissing me. Not stopping.

I push both hands against his shoulders and force him up. “Zac, can we take a minute?”

“For what? We’re finally alone.” He brushes a strand of hair back from my face and tucks it behind my ear. His brilliant green eyes pin me. “I’ve missed you, Davy.”

“I’ve missed you, too, but I thought we should talk.”

“About what?”

“Everything, Zac. Everything is changed. I’m not even welcome here.”

“Carlton doesn’t care—”

“I’m not talking about Carlton. I’m talking about everyone. Tori—”

“Please.” He rolls his eyes. “I can handle Tori.”

And this irks me. She’s my best friend—was. He shouldn’t be the buffer between us. Talking to her. Talking to me. Being pulled in two directions. And maybe there’s the fact that I know she’s always wanted him for herself. And if not her, there are others. Other pretty girls at Everton, waiting in the wings who are a better fit for a guy with everything going for him.