Did you follow me from the party?" "Yes" "I didn't even know you were there." His dark clothes indicated he must have been on guardian duty at the party. "So you saw the illustrious Janine cause a commotion by dragging me out." "It wasn't a commotion. Hardly anyone noticed. I saw because I was watching you.

I'm glad you're better," he said. His mouth sounded like it was almost in my hair, just above my my ear. "When I saw you fall..." "You thought, 'Wow, she's a loser.

Oh God. She probably thinks we were off doing—you know—romantic type, um, things—

Our gazes locked, so much passing between us. In those moments, I wasn't in a tent with him, on the run from those who regarded us as villains. There was no murderer to catch, no Strigoi trauma to overcome. There was just him and me and the feelings that had burned between us for so long.

Tradition or not, I sometimes thought putting children on an old guy’s lap was already creepy enough. We didn’t need to mix alcohol into it.

Maybe under all that guilt and certainty that he couldn't love again, he still wanted me. I would have liked to have found out. But I didn't have the time. Instead, I punched him.

Guilt was its own prison.