"Nothing." "You're lying." He gets up from the bed and walks over to me, kneeling down in front of my chair, his earnest eyes searching my face. I turn my head to look back at the computer, mostly because his concerned expression has me this close to bursting into tears again.

"I'm not."

"Tell me what happened. Did someone hurt you?" He takes my hand in his and squeezes it lightly, his thumb caressing my palm. "You can tell me. It's okay."

And that, my friends, is the point that the dam breaks and the tears cascade down like Niagara Falls. How embarra.s.sing.

How pathetic. I can't believe I'm so weak. So vulnerable. He's going to think I'm the biggest loser on the planet. Maybe in the entire universe. If there was any chance he was at all interested in me, it's so gone now. I'm just another whiny, teary-faced human girl.

Jareth reaches up and swipes a tear away with his thumb. His touch is cool against my burning cheeks. "Tell me," he says in the most gentle voice you could imagine.

"Okay," I agree, realizing at this point I've got nothing to lose. I close my eyes resignedly and try to find my voice. I open my mouth to tell him the story of Mike Stevens, but something completely different comes out. Something I hadn't meant to share with anyone, let alone him.

"You know how I told you about my dad? How he left us four years ago to go 'find himself?' "

"Yes. Of course."

"Well, he's evidently still lost. I thought he was coming home for my birthday. Sunny and I turned seventeen three days ago and he sent us an e-mail saying he was going to come home to celebrate with us." I swallow hard. "It's so dumb, but. . ."

"But what?"

"I was so excited. My dad's awesome. Or he used to be anyway. And I haven't seen him in so long. I guess I thought maybe if he came ... if he saw us again. Maybe he'd want to ... I don't know ..." I laugh bitterly. "Stick around or something. Or at least plan more regular visits. Sounds so stupid now that I think about it."

Jareth shakes his head. "Not stupid at all," he says. "It makes perfect sense to me."

"Anyway, it doesn't matter. He never showed. He was supposed to bring the cake, too." I laugh bitterly. "We ended up having a birthday party with no cake. Pretty lame, huh?"

"Did he call to tell you why? Did something happen to prevent him from making it?"

"No. I waited up 'til like one a.m., hoping he'd walk through the door. So idiotic." My voice breaks again and I'm sobbing like crazy now. Can we say LOSER? "Sunny e-mailed him the next day. Turns out some other thing came up and he says he forgot to tell us."

"Other thing?"

"Evidently he's got a new wife. And she has kids. One of them had some school play or something ..." I shrug. "Why go hang with the old family, I guess, when you've got a whole new one?"

Without warning, Jareth grabs me and pulls me into a hug. At first I'm not sure about this, but his arms feel so right, wrapped around me. His hands so good, stroking my back. I give in, burying my head in his shoulder and sobbing my eyes out. Trying to take the strength he is offering me. I'm scared to death at the perfect comfort I receive, but too relieved to pull away.

"I'm so sorry, Raynie," he whispers, smoothing my hair with his hands. "That's a lousy thing to do. He doesn't deserve you as a daughter."

"I wish I could just hate him," I cry, hoping my nose isn't all running on Jareth's black shirt. "But I can't. I still love him. I still miss him. No matter what he does, he's still my dad."

"It's hard when people you love let you down."

"Sometimes I think that's why I don't have any close friends," I say, now in full-on babble mode. I can't believe I'm telling him all this. But his arms feel warm and his touch is comforting. I haven't felt so safe in eons. "I mean, everyone thinks it's 'cause I'm some tough punk-rock chick who doesn't need anyone. But, in reality, I think it's 'cause I'm scared to death. That if I get close to someone, they'll just leave."

"I know the feeling," Jareth says, almost thoughtfully. "More than you can know."

"Oh?" Excitement builds inside me, competing with my sadness. He's on the verge of spilling the Deep Dark Secret, I can tell.

He pulls his head away. "Some other time," he says, pressing his lips against my forehead and giving me a soft kiss.

I stick out my lower lip in a mock pout. "Oh, fine."

He laughs. "I promise."

"I'll hold you to that."

"Don't worry," he says, reaching over to my nightstand and grabbing me a tissue. He hands it to me and I wipe my eyes and nose. "Unlike some people, I keep my promises. Always and forever."

He reaches up and brushes a strand of hair out of my eyes and studies my face. "You're really beautiful," he says. "You know that?"

I screw up my face. "Yeah, yeah." But secretly I'm pleased.

"No. I'm serious." His fingers trail down the side of my face, his nails lightly sc.r.a.ping at my cheekbone. Feels so good. I close my eyes.

And then he kisses me. Yes, the beautiful vampire, the dark general, the one who never gets close to anyone, leans in and presses his lips against mine.

This kiss is different than the one in the closet. This kiss is soft. Gentle. Light. Like a b.u.t.terfly's wing whisking my lips. I know it sounds weird, but it's almost like a worshipful caress. I sigh a bit as tingly sensations burst from my fingers, my toes-all over my body. I kiss him back, hesitantly at first and then with more a.s.surance. Jareth is a master kisser, nothing like the awkward fumbling boys I've dated in the past. The ones more interested in the technical workings of my bra. The ones who see the mouth only as an obligatory precursor to getting me to take off my clothes. But Jareth seems content just to kiss me. To explore my mouth with his own. His tongue telling a thousand stories, mine delighting in a thousand tastes.

I wonder what he's thinking as he kisses me. Does he have feelings for me? Is this something he's been hoping will happen?

Or is this just a gesture meant to cheer me up, to distract me from my pain? Sadly, I have no real clue what this immortal creature of the night actually feels for me and that scares me to death.

Stop thinking so much, Rayne, I tell myself. You've got a hot guy making out with you in your bedroom. Just go with it.

But I can't. Not this time. Because I'm starting to develop a deep tenderness for this vampire. And that's pretty d.a.m.n terri- fying. After all, he's told me a dozen times that he doesn't get close to anyone. He doesn't even have donors, for goodness sake.

He never wants a blood mate. He likes being alone. If I fall for him, I'm going to fall alone. And when I hit rock bottom, it's going to hurt like crazy. In fact, I'm not sure I'd even be able to survive. To claw my way up from such heartbreak.

And so, as much as it sucks, I force myself to pull away. He stares at me dully for a moment, as if in a daze, then frowns.

"What's wrong?" he asks in a wounded voice that breaks my heart.

"Nothing," I say briskly, scrambling to my feet. I cross my arms over my chest. "So let's get back to business."

"But-" The hurt on his face is unmistakable and I feel like a monster. Still, even though he's a vampire, he's also a guy. And guys can get like that after they've been denied s.e.x. In fact, I'd be willing to bet he doesn't care one lick about me as a person. He just wants to jump me. Just like everyone else. And I'm so not interested.

"You said you got the blood test results back. What did you learn?"

He sighs deeply and then rises to his feet, running a hand through his dirty blond hair. He stares into the mirror. Unlike in the movies and TV shows, vamps DO have reflections and his, I notice, is not one of a happy vampire. But that can't be helped, I guess.

I feel bad, but I tell myself that in the long run, it's better this way. After all, this can't go anywhere. It can't become anything.

So just rip off the Band-Aid and move on to the next scene.

"Well, that's the strange thing," he says at last, evidently resigning himself to the fact that he's not getting any more nookie from this chick. "It's definitely contaminated with some kind of blood-borne virus, but we're not exactly sure what. Whatever it is, our scientists believe it's the same virus that's affected Kristoff. Obviously vampires don't die like humans, but somehow the virus has been able to weaken him and take away his powers."

"How is Kristoff, anyway?"

"About the same. Not sick. Not exactly. Just weak. And powerless. It's the strangest thing."

"Poor guy."

"Indeed. And he's not the only one. Several of the coven's top leaders have come down with a very similar illness. And all their donors are dead."

"Wow. That's terrible. So do you think it's being spread through the donors? Remember, we saw Kristoff's donors at the Blood Bar. Could it be possible that Maverick is behind this?"

"I do. In fact, I'd say it's quite probable," Jareth says, nodding. "It's my theory that this is the way Maverick hopes to overthrow Magnus's rule. By crippling Magnus's strong supporters, he can weaken his command, and then stage a coup."

"Actually, that's exactly what the Slayer Inc. guy, Teifert, says," I tell him. "He suggested we go back to the Blood Bar and see if we can find a sample of the original virus itself. Maybe they have a room where they store it all. Maybe they even have some kind of antidote there." I jump up from my seat, eager to be out of these closed quarters, lest I do some-thing stupid like jump his vampire bones again. "We should go now. Time is a-wasting."

Jareth shakes his head. "I should go now. Not we. You will stay home."

"What? No way! I'm so not staying home."

"This could be dangerous."

"But I'm Raynie the Vampire Slayer," I say, grabbing the sake off my computer table and raising it in the air.

Jareth chuckles. "Oh, yes. I forgot. Very scary." "Come on," I whine. "Please? It's, like, my destiny and stuff, remember? Just let me come. I need an adventure. I can't keep sitting around moping in my room."

"Okay, fine. But you have to listen to me. Do as I say. No heroics here," he insists. "You may have a stake, but I'd bet my fangs you don't know how to use it."

"Not true. I got some Slayer Training this weekend. I'm now the stake mastah!"

"Ah. Impressive." Jareth smiles. "Can't wait to see you in action."

"So should we head over now?"

"Hm." Jareth looks at his watch. "Actually it's only eight, The Blood Bar will be open 'til two a.m. and we want to hit them closer to closing time."

"Oh, okay." A bit disappointed, I set the stake back down on the desk. So much for immediate distraction. "Uh, I guess just come pick me up when you're ready to leave?" Hopefully by then Mom will be in bed. I doubt she'd be cool with me leaving the house at one thirty on a school night.

"Actually, I was wondering if you'd like to ... do something with me first," Jareth says, sounding a bit shy all of a sudden.

I look up, surprised. "Uh, what?"

"Go dancing."

"Dancing? Now?" Wow. That is so not what I expected him to say. Though I don't know what I did expect. A shiver of delight makes its way up my backbone. Dancing. With Jareth. Mmm.

Jareth shrugs. "Yes. Why not?"

Bleh. I know I should say no. Keep ripping off the Band-Aid. Not put myself in a position where the two of us could easily book up. Dancing is powerful and dangerous and if I want to stay at arm's length it's the last thing I should agree to.

"I don't know. No reason, I guess. It's just-" Just that I'm not strong enough not to melt when you take me into your arms.

"Remember what we talked about at Club Fang the other night? About losing oneself in the music? Seeking peace in-side the dance?" He smiles at me. "I think someone's in need of a little of that right about now."

Oh. So that's what he means. An unwarranted disappointment floats through me. Bleh. I should have known. He has no secret agenda to hook up with me. This is just a simple cheer-up technique to get my mind back on the job. Well, that's better, I suppose. Safer, at least. And something I can justify doing.

He's still looking at me expectantly and I realize that I haven't given him a verbal answer. "I'd love to," I reply.

He takes my hand and pulls me to my feet, then ushers me to my bedroom door, hand brushing against the small of my back.

Gah. His touch really should be illegal. Almost makes me want to skip the dance club and go straight for the bed. Not that that would be a good idea. And besides, I kind of like this almost old-fashioned chivalrous thing he's got going on. So unlike guys my age, who are just interested in getting it on with the Goth freak.

Besides, we've already established that he's just being nice He probably feels sorry for me and my pathetic little lost- daddy's-girl thing. Ugh.

We tell Mom we're going out and she looks so pleased that I've actually left my bedroom I bet if I told her we were off to smoke crack and get lap dances she would have waved and said, "Have a good time. Just be back by curfew."

We jump in Jareth's BMW and speed off to Club Fang. He turns the music up extra loud, just the way I like it, and I zone out to the crooning sounds of Morrissey. It's nice and comfortable this way. No awkward convo and strained silences. He must sense that I've already shared way more than I even share and am currently all talked out.

Club Fang is hopping when we get there. After paying the bouncer the cover charge, we walk inside and are enveloped by darkness, illuminated only by irregular flashing strobe lights and obscured by machine-created fog. The ba.s.s is up, the music is dark and enchanting, and I'm in Heaven already.

Jareth grabs my hand and together we weave through the crowd of sweaty gothed-out dancers until we get to the center of the room. Then he pulls me close and together we start swaying to the music.

At first I'm thinking, "Danger, danger!" and that I should not be here. With him. Falling deeper and deeper for a guy who doesn't want me for anything more than friendship. But as the music takes me, my reservations start melting away. I'm here. I'm in his arms. I might as well accept things. Take them for what they are and enjoy the moment. Who knows when something so blissful will come around again.

As we dance, my troubles seem more and more trivial. I mean, so what if my dad didn't show up for my birthday? It's not like he's a regular at any other family events. We've been fine without him for the last four years and we'll be fine without him for the next four. And so what if Mike Stevens is a huge d.i.c.k with an att.i.tude? High school will be the best years of his life. Soon he'll be strapped with five kids, a job that gives him ulcers, and a wife who doesn't understand him.

None of it matters in the long run. Just the beat. The tribal sounds that stir something primitive inside of me. At this very moment there is no past. No future. Just a vampire's arms wrapped around me, his hot body pressed against mine. Heaven.

Jareth seems lost in it, too. His eyes are closed as he sways against me. I study his face as the multicolored lights dance across it, creating alternating shadows and light. I wonder again what he's hiding. What turmoil and hurt lies under his calm exterior.

What has made him so angry? What has made him so like me?

Because he is like me, I realize. He hides his torment, conceals his pain, until he can't anymore and then it explodes and he comes across as a nasty, angry person. But he's not really like that. Not inside.

The beat slows and so does our dance. Jareth's eyes open, almond-shaped sapphires that practically glow in the dark. I know I keep harping on them, but I've just never seen such beautiful eyes before and I'm sure I never will again. He reaches down and brushes a lock of hair away from my sweaty forehead.

"How are you?" he asks. And the way he says it makes me believe that he actually cares about the answer.

"Better," I say, smiling up at him. "Much better, actually."

"Sometimes it's good to talk," he says. "But other times you'd rather just lose your mind."

I nod, amazed at how his thoughts totally parallel mine. He really is the perfect guy in so many ways.

Screw it. I might as well face the facts: I'm in love. And there's nothing I can do about it.

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