Mirage by Kristi Cook Read Free Book Online Page A

trust.
    I nodded. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”
     
    “So, how’d it go?” Aidan asked, lowering himself to the grass beside me. The late afternoon sun shone down on his head, turning his hair a deep, fiery gold. I resisted the urge to reach out and run my fingers through it.
    “The sun really doesn’t bother you?” I asked instead.
    Shading his eyes with one hand, he glanced up at the bright orb in question, high in the clear blue sky. “Nope. Took the elixir yesterday. I’m good for a while.”
    My gaze was drawn toward his calves, bare below his olive-colored cargo shorts. He was definitely pale, his skin fairer than mine—but not pale in the “I haven’t seen the sun for a hundred years” sense.
    “Do you ever tan?” I asked.
    “Nah, my skin stays the same exact same shade as it was when I was turned. Just think, if I’d been a laborer instead of a viscount’s son, I’d have been stuck with a farmer’s tan forever. Anyway, you didn’t answer my question.”
    “What, you mean with Dr. Hot—Dr. Byrne?” I stammered, distracted by the mental image of Aidan wearing a nineteenth-century suit and cravat. “It went fine, I guess.”
    Aidan rolled his eyes. “Do you really have to call him that?”
    “Are you jealous?” I teased, plucking a blade of grass and tossing it at him.
    “Of course I am.” He shrugged.
    For a moment, I just stared at him, stunned. Was he serious? “He’s a teacher,” I finally said.
    “A very young, very good-looking teacher.” He reached for my hand, his thumb brushing across my knuckles. “You just spent two hours with him, locked away in his office on a Saturday.”
    I let out my breath in a huff. “Okay, let me repeat myself in case you missed this the first time. He’s a teacher. Secondly, he’s a teacher. And lastly, he’s—”
    “Yeah, I know,” he interrupted. “A teacher. Allow me to repeat my self. He’s a very young, very good-looking teacher.”
    “And for the record,” I continued, as if I hadn’t heard him, “the door was not locked.” At least, I was pretty sure it wasn’t. Why would it have been? “And he’s way older than me, besides.”
    “And I’m … what? A hundred and something years older than you? Help me out with the math; I’m afraid I’ve lost count.”
    “You’re seventeen, Aidan,” I said with a sigh. “You’ll always be seventeen.”
    “Not always, not if I can help it,” he said sharply. The edge of desperation in his voice was unmistakable. As always, it made my heart break. I couldn’t imagine what it must be like to be him—to be the same age forever and ever.
    The very idea that some people actually yearned for immortality baffled me beyond reason. I wondered if they had any idea what it would be like to watch everyone you know grow old and die, to find yourself alone time after time. And even worse, to be a vampire, at the mercy of your cravings—cravings that meant you had to hurt people, even kill them. Why would people glorify such an existence? The toll it took on Aidan was obvious—and yet the Propagators seemed to revel in it, wanting to spread vampirism far and wide.
    Aidan pulled me closer, wrapping one arm around my shoulders. I could smell him now, his scent totally different from Dr. Byrne’s—and far more familiar. “You cold?” he asked. “I can go get you a jacket. Rather quickly, if you want,” he added.
    And he could, in an instant, if he wanted to. He could teleport—or whatever it was he did—to his room and back again in a matter of seconds.
    I shook my head. “I’m fine. People would see you, anyway.”
    “I would go the normal way, until I was out of sight. I’m not that reckless, Vi. There are still secrets to keep.”
    “Not from me,” I said vehemently.
    “Not from you,” he agreed. “Never again.” His mouth dipped down toward my neck, beneath my ear. My heart began to gallop as I felt his lips press against my skin. His teeth could pierce that fragile