“Blood cake is food,” Mekhi shoots back. “Or so I’ve been told.”

“Blood cake?” My stomach turns over nervously. I have no idea what that is, but it sounds scary.

Flint shoots Mekhi a smug look. “How are those dragon-roasted marshmallows sounding now, Grace?”

“Like dinner, if I can add a pack of cherry Pop-Tarts.” I glance around the dining hall, checking to see if the à la carte snack table from breakfast and lunch is still out. But, typical of all the other dinnertimes, it’s nowhere to be seen.

“It won’t be that bad, I swear,” Mekhi says as he starts shepherding us toward the food line.

“How can I have been at Katmere this long and not known about Wingo night?” I wonder, even as a part of my brain is cataloging every dish I’ve ever heard of with blood in it—which, to be honest, isn’t that many. The other part of my brain is busy checking out the cafeteria, trying to spot Jaxon…or Hudson.

I don’t know if I’m worried or relieved when I can’t find either of them.

“Because you’ve never been around this many weeks in a row before,” Macy answers. “And I think the last time one of these rolled around, Jaxon was feeding you tacos in the library.”

My mind boggles a little at the thought that that night in the library was only a month ago. So much has changed since then that it feels like it happened several months ago. Maybe even years.

“I wish I was eating tacos in the library right now,” Flint grumbles as he grabs a couple of trays and holds them out for Macy and me.

Macy takes the offering with a sigh. “Yeah, me too.”

“Don’t listen to them,” Mekhi tells me. “It’s not that bad.”

“You don’t eat, so you don’t get a vote,” Flint says.

Mekhi just laughs. “Fair point. I’m going to grab a drink, and then I’ll find us a table.” He winks at Macy, then heads toward the big orange sports coolers against the back wall of the dining hall.

The line is shorter than usual—I wonder why—and moves pretty fast, so it only takes a couple of minutes before we’re standing in front of Katmere’s elegant buffet tables. Usually they are overflowing with food, but tonight the offerings are pretty slim. And none of them is particularly tempting to me.

Even the salad bar is gone, in its place a giant cauldron of soup that has vegetables floating in it, along with a bunch of dark-brown cubes I don’t recognize. “What are those things?” I whisper to Macy as we pass by several adult vampires—including Marise, who smiles at me and waves.

I wave back but keep moving down the line as Macy whispers, “Coagulated blood.”

We pass a black sausage that I don’t even have to ask about—I’ve seen enough British cooking shows to know what gives the sausage its distinctive coloring. And to be fair, a lot of people love it. But I don’t know…the whole vampire thing makes it feel really weird. Like, how do we know for sure that they’re using animal blood and not human blood, since at least some of the vamp teachers here are totally old-school?

Just the thought has my stomach turning queasy. But up ahead is a huge pile of pancakes, and I’ve never been more relieved in my life to have breakfast for dinner. At least until I get closer and realize that these aren’t ordinary pancakes. They’re a really deep, dark reddish-purple.

“Tell me they didn’t actually put blood in the pancakes,” I say.

“They totally put blood in the pancakes,” Macy answers.

“It’s a Swedish recipe,” Flint tells me “Blodpl?ttar. And they’re actually pretty good.” He reaches over and puts several on his plate.

The vamps are watching the line closely, so I grab one of the pancakes. They obviously worked hard on dinner, and the last thing I want to do is hurt anyone’s feelings. Besides, the frozen yogurt station is on the way to the table…

After dousing my pancake in syrup and filling up a bowl with a mix of vanilla and chocolate yogurt and all the toppings it can hold, I follow Flint and Macy through the crowded dining hall to the table Mekhi chose. Eden and Gwen have already joined him, and I can’t help grinning when I read the front of Eden’s newest purple hoodie: For The Hoard.

She sees me smiling and winks, right before she reaches over and snags the cherry off the top of Macy’s frozen yogurt sundae.

Macy just laughs. “I knew you were going to do that.” She reaches in and grabs another cherry. “That’s why I got two.”

Quick as lightning, Eden snatches that one as well. “You should know by now never to trust a dragon with your treasure.”

“Hey!” Macy pouts while the rest of us laugh. But once we’re settled, I spoon a couple of the half dozen cherries from my bowl into hers. If being at Katmere has taught me nothing else, it’s the value of being prepared for anything.

“Best. Cousin. Ever.” Macy beams at me, and I realize it’s the first real smile I’ve seen from her since Xavier died. It makes me breathe a tiny bit easier, makes me think that, while happy is a stretch, maybe she’s beginning to find her way back to being at least okay.

Conversation flows around me, talk of senior projects and finals and gossip about classmates I don’t know, as I dig into my frozen yogurt. I’m trying to pay attention, but it’s hard when I keep looking around for Jaxon and Hudson. Which is ridiculous, I know. Half an hour ago in my room, I was all I don’t have time to worry about them, and now I can’t stop scanning the dining hall for one, or both.

But I can’t help it. No matter how out of control things are today, I can’t just turn my feelings on and off. I love Jaxon. I’m friends with Hudson. I’m worried about them both, and I need to know they’re fine, especially since I haven’t had the chance to talk to either of them about everything going on.

I’m halfway through my frozen yogurt when a hush comes over the dining hall, right about the time the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I look to see everyone staring at something behind me and I know—even before I turn around—who I’m going to find.

5

Stale Mate

Macy, who has already turned around to see what all the fuss is about, elbows me in the side and hisses Jaxon’s name out of the corner of her mouth.

I nod to let her know I’ve heard her, but I don’t move. I hold my breath, though, as the shivers running up and down my spine warn me that he’s getting closer…and his attention is focused entirely on me.

Macy squeaks, which tells me everything I need to know about what mood he’s in. She’s relaxed around him a lot in the last few weeks—friendship will do that—but it doesn’t mean she’s forgotten how dangerous he is. And neither has anyone else, apparently. It’s reflected in the faces of every single person around me, in the way they all seem frozen, like they’re just waiting for Jaxon to strike…and want to make damn sure that they aren’t the one he goes after.

Even Flint is sitting back in his chair, both his pancakes and his conversation with Eden about their physics final forgotten, as he looks right past me. The look in his gaze is a combination of wary and reckless, and it’s worry over Flint—over what he’s feeling and what he might do—that has me turning around before things go to absolute shit around me.

I’m not the least bit surprised to find Jaxon behind me. I am, however, surprised at just how close he really is. A few weeks ago, there’s no way he’d have been able to get within a few inches of me without my entire body going haywire. All I’ve got now is this shiver down my spine, and it’s not exactly a good feeling.

After dinner last night, he’d invited me back to his tower to study, but I couldn’t go, since Hudson had already asked me to study with him. I get frustrated just thinking of the mess that ensued, since neither of the Vega brothers could be adults about the situation and let us all study together.

I’d ended up studying in my room, alone. And not learning a damn thing because I was too busy being pissed at them.

But then I texted Jaxon twice today, and he hasn’t so much as acknowledged I exist. I get that he doesn’t like my friendship with Hudson—but he has to know that’s all it is. Friendship. I apparently have no choice in who I’m mated to, but I’ve shown Jaxon in a thousand different ways that he’s who I choose to love.

Which is why I’m so annoyed by the cold shoulder he’s given me all day.

He must feel the same way, because his dark eyes are as cold as midnight.

As cold as Denali’s summit in January.

As cold as they were the very first time we met. No. Colder.

For what feels like forever, he doesn’t say anything and neither do I. Instead, the silence stretches thin as ice—between us and around us—until Luca finally steps out from behind him and asks, “Mind if we sit with you guys?”