Crave (Harlequin Teen)

unconscious.
    Against my will, I sucked in a sharp breath through my nose. Tristan. What had they done to him? Was he okay?
    Dad might have warned me that Tristan was the surprise. The Clann would go crazy over this. I’d probably get blamed for it, too. Then again, if I’d never given in to the temptation to date him, he wouldn’t be here in the first place. So I guessed it was my fault, after all.
    “It is clear already that you do not have complete control around this witch boy,” Caravass said.
    “I’m half human. I care about him,” I admitted in a whisper, tearing my gaze away from Tristan’s drooping head.
    “Emotions are a sign of a lack of control,” a pinch-faced councilwoman hissed. “We cannot afford to risk our entire society on a girl who cannot control her emotions.”
    “Especially when the cause for that loss of control is a Clann member,” Caravass agreed.
    Their collective fear rose, nearly suffocating me.
    What a bunch of hypocrites! They weren’t even going to give me a chance to prove myself. I had to say something. “Why don’t you try me.”
    Dad stiffened. “I respectfully suggest that the test be kept within reason so as not to start another war with the Clann. Kidnapping their future leader could possibly already be construed as a violation of the treaty. It might be unwise to risk further provoking them.”
    Provoke the Clann further how…by killing Tristan?
    The council hesitated, and I couldn’t breathe.
    “Agreed,” Caravass said. “We will keep him alive for this test.”
    And afterward?
    One step at a time, Sav, I told myself.
    A guard outside the council chamber opened the vaultlike metal door behind me, and the inner guard stepped away from the window to lead me out. In silence, he turned to the left down a dim corridor that seemed to stretch forever in either direction. If I could get Tristan free, which way would we need to go? The place had seemed like a labyrinth on the way in.
    We’d figure that out when the time came. If it did. First, I’d try to do what I should have been doing for months now; I would follow the rules.
    After a few steps, the guard turned to the left again at a rectangular metal door. He reached under his jacket, withdrew a ring of keys on a chain and unlocked it. Then he stepped inside.
    I followed him into the interrogation room. My gaze immediately snapped to Tristan, who was still knocked out. Part of me wanted to run over to him immediately. The other half of me was distracted by the emotions I kept sensing from the room we’d just left. On this side, the window looked like a mirror. I couldn’t see my audience of judges. Yet I could almost pinpoint each council member’s location through their anger, fear, worry and curiosity.
    They were on the move for less than a second. Then the council stopped again by the window, gathering in a tight half circle only a few feet away. Probably so they could see me better when I failed their test.
    The guard’s face looked bored, as if to say this was nothing personal. Which was a lie. This was totally personal. And all my fault.
    He reached inside his inner jacket pocket and took out two items…a syringe and a scalpel. The clear plastic protectors on the blade and needle made loud snicks as he removed them. The harsh fluorescent light overhead glinted off the needle and made the syringe’s yellow contents glow.
    I gulped, the air rushing in and out of my lungs in noisy gusts I couldn’t hide within the silence of the cold cement room.
    The guard stepped closer to us. My thigh muscles tensed, the instinct to fight pulsing through me, and the guard’s eyes grew cautious. He knew I was desperate. But that didn’t make me stupid. The guard was both a vampire and big, built like a linebacker beneath his badly fitted suit. And even if I could somehow fight him off, my audience of judges would step in to stop me.
    Think straight, Sav, I told myself while I struggled to breathe. Time for logic, not emotion.
    Okay. So we were in deep this time. But we weren’t totally doomed. Yet. The council had promised that I had only to pass one test, and then Tristan could go free.
    An innocent boy who wouldn’t even be here if I hadn’t fallen in love with him. My fault he was in danger. If I’d only broken up with him…
    No, no time for guilt right now. I had to focus on passing this test, and then we could go home.
    Just one test to pass.
    A test I was genetically destined to fail.
    “What are