Jennifer Armentrout - Opal

Giddy, I hit record and shrieked, “I have a MacBook Air!”

Daemon laughed as he buried his head in my hair. “You dork.”

I hit the stop button and noticed the time. Powering down the laptop, I placed it beside us and threw my arms around him once more. “Thank you.”

He pulled me down and reached up, tucking the hair behind my ear. His hand lingered. “I like it when you’re happy, and if I can do something small, then I will.”

“Something small?” Shock heightened my tone. “That’s not something small. That had to have cost—”

“It doesn’t matter. You’re happy. I’m happy.”

My chest swelled. “I love you. You know that, right?”

A cocky grin appeared. “I know.”

I waited. Nothing. Rolling my eyes, I sat up on the other side of him and kicked off my shoes. Glancing out the bedroom window, I saw nothing but beautiful blue skies. It was nice enough for flip-flops. Flip-flops!

“You’re never going to say it, are you?”

“Say what?” The bed shifted as he sat up, placing his hands on my hips.

I looked over my shoulder. Thick lashes shielded his eyes. “You know what.”

“Hmm?” He slid his hands up my sides, distracting as usual.

It might bother some girls that their boyfriends never said the four-letter word. With any other guy, it might’ve bothered me, too, to be honest, but with Daemon, well, those words would never be easy for him to say, even though he had no problem showing it.

And I was okay with it. Didn’t mean I wouldn’t tease him about it, though.

He pressed a kiss to my cheek and slid off the bed. “I’m glad you like it.”

“I love it.”

Daemon raised an eyebrow.

“Seriously, I do love it. I can’t thank you enough.”

Now he waggled that brow. “I’m sure you can.”

I stood and pushed him lightly as I scanned my bedroom floor for my flip-flops. I hadn’t really looked for anything since the night Carissa had been here. I was still finding stuff they’d put away in odd places. Dipping down, I lifted up the edge of my polka-dotted comforter and peered into the no-man’s-land under my bed.

Several loose sheets of notebook paper cluttered the floor. Rolled socks were everywhere. One sneaker was near the top, next to a couple of magazines. The other sneaker was nowhere to be found and appeared to have run off with half the socks, since none of them looked like a match.

The flip-flops were halfway in the middle. I lay down and stretched, smacking at the floor.

“What are you doing?” Daemon asked.

“Trying to get my flip-flops.”

“Is it really that hard?”

Ignoring him, I concentrated on the shoes and willed them toward me. A second later, one hit my hand and when the second pair hit, something warm and smooth-feeling bounced off my palm.

“What the…?”

Tossing the flip-flops aside, I felt around until my hand landed on the object. I wiggled out from under the bed and sat up, opening my palm.

“Oh my God,” I said.

“What?” Daemon knelt beside me and sucked in a sharp breath. “Is that what I think it is?”

Resting in my palm was a shiny black stone with red streaked through the center, like a vibrant red flame. It must’ve been Carissa’s and although the bracelet portion wasn’t attached and must’ve been destroyed along with her body, this survived.

I was holding a piece of opal.

We sort of stared at each other like two doofuses, and then we both sprang into action. Taking the stone that was a little bigger than a nickel, we went downstairs. Our heart rates picked up.

I handed him the stone. “Try something—like that reflection thing.”

Daemon, who’d probably been jonesing for a piece of opal since he learned what they could do, didn’t refuse. He wrapped his palm around it, and concentration tightened the line of his mouth.

At first nothing happened, and then a faint shimmer surrounded the outline of his body. Like when Dee got excited and her arm would glimmer and fade, but then the shine spread over his body and he disappeared.

Completely disappeared.

“Daemon?” A soft chuckle came from the vicinity of the couch. My eyes narrowed. “I can’t see you at all.”

“Not at all?”

I shook my head. Weird. He was here, but I couldn’t see him. Stepping back, I forced myself to focus on the couch. Then I noticed the difference. In front of the middle cushion and behind the coffee table, the space was distorted. Sort of wavy, like looking at water through glass, and I knew he had to be standing there, blending in like a chameleon.

“Oh my God, you’re totally like the Predator .”

There was a pause and then, “This is so cool.” Moments later he reappeared, grinning like a kid who just got his first video game. “God, I am so going to sneak into your bathroom like the Invisible Man.”

I rolled my eyes. “Give me the opal.”

Laughing, he handed it over. The stone was body temperature, which I thought was weird. “Want to hear something crazier than me being completely invisible? It barely took any energy away. I feel fine.”

“Wow.” I turned the stone over. “We need to test this out.”

Taking the stone, Daemon and I headed to the lake. We had about fifteen minutes before anyone else showed.

“You try it,” Daemon said.

Holding the opal in my palm, I wasn’t sure what to try. The hardest thing and the one that took the most strength was using the Source as a weapon. So I decided to go with that. I concentrated on the rush and it felt different this time—potent and consuming. Tapping into it came faster, easier, and within seconds, a ball of whitish-red light appeared over my free hand.

“Wow,” I said, smiling. “This is…different.”

Daemon nodded. “Do you feel tired or anything?”

“No.” And usually this wiped me out pretty darn quickly, so the opal really did have an impact. Then I got an idea. Letting the Source fizzle out, I searched the ground and found a small branch.

Taking it to the bank of the lake, I squeezed the opal in one hand. “I could never do the heat-to-fire thing. Burned my fingers pretty badly the last time I tried it.”

“Should you be trying it now, then?”

Ah, good point. “But you’re here to heal me.”

Daemon frowned. “Worst logic ever, Kitten.”

I grinned as I focused on the branch. The Source flared once again, traveling along the slender, crooked twig of a branch, encasing it whole. A second later, the stick collapsed into an ash replica, and as the whitish-red light receded, the branch fell apart.

“Uh,” I said.

“That wasn’t fire, but it was pretty damn close.”

I’d never done anything like that before. Had to be the opal-enhanced alien coolness, because I just turned a stick into Pompeii.

“Let me have it,” Daemon said. “I want to see if it has any effect on the onyx.”

Handing it over, I followed him to the pile of onyx, wiping the ash off my fingers. Holding the opal in one hand, he uncovered the stones and, jaw clenching, he picked one up.

Nothing happened. All of us had grown a tolerance to the rocks, but there was usually a gasp or flinch of pain.

“What’s happening?” I asked.

Daemon lifted his chin. “Nothing—I don’t feel anything.”

“Let me try.” We switched off and he was right. The bite of onyx wasn’t there. We stared at each other. “Holy crap.”

Footsteps and voices carried into the clearing. Daemon swiped the opal, sliding it in his pocket. “I don’t think we should let Blake see this.”

“No doubt,” I agreed.

We turned as Matthew, Dawson, and Blake appeared at the edge of the woods. It would be interesting to see if the opal had any affect in Daemon’s pocket or if we had to be physically touching it.