Jennifer Armentrout - Onyx

He was gone before I could even finish my sentence. Stunned, I turned around, but he was nowhere. A pang hit me in the chest and tears filled my eyes as I turned back to my door.

The sudden realization smacked me upside the head.

This whole time, I’d been so busy pushing him away, telling him whatever was between us wasn’t real. And now that I’d realized the depth of what he felt for me—what I felt for him—he was gone.

All morning and part of the afternoon, I poked around the house like a zombie. There was this weird throbbing in my chest. My eyes ached as if they were filled with tears that wouldn’t fall. It reminded me of the months after Dad’s death.

With my heart not really in it, I did a quick review on this dystopian novel I’d read last week and closed my laptop. Lying down, I stared at the spider web of cracks in my bedroom ceiling. The truth was hard to face. I’d been trying to deny it all morning. A jumbled knot of clogged emotions had formed under my ribs last night and it was still there. Every so often it seemed heavier, more intense.

I liked Daemon—really, really liked him.

I’d been so caught up nursing my hurt over the way he’d acted when we first met that I’d been blind to my growing feelings, to what I wanted, and to how he felt. And now what? Daemon, who never backed down from anything, had walked away before allowing me to explain anything.

There was no escaping it. I’d hurt him.

Rolling over, I shoved my face into the pillow. His scent was still there. I clutched it tightly and closed my eyes. How had things gotten so tangled up? At what point had my life turned into some bizarre science fiction soap opera?

“Honey, are you feeling okay?”

I opened my eyes and focused on my mom, who was wearing scrubs with little hearts and swirls on them. Where did she get those things? “Yeah, I’m just tired.”

“You sure?” She sat on the edge of the bed, placing her hand against my forehead. When she determined I wasn’t sick, she smiled a little. “The Christmas tree is beautiful, honey.”

A rush of swirling emotions crashed into me. “Yeah,” I said, voice hoarse. “It is.”

“Who helped you with it?”

I bit the inside of my cheek. “Daemon.”

Mom smoothed my hair back with her hand. “That’s really sweet of him.”

“I know.” I paused. “Mom?”

“Yes, honey?”

I didn’t even know what I was going to tell her. Everything was too…complicated, too jumbled up in the truth of what my friends were. I shook my head. “Nothing. Just that I love you.”

Smiling, she bent over and kissed my forehead. “I love you, too.” She got up and stopped at the door. “I was thinking about having Will over for dinner this week. What do you think?”

It was great my mom had a stellar love life. “Cool with me.”

After Mom left for work, I forced myself to get up. Blake would be here soon. So would Daemon, if he still showed.

I went into the kitchen and grabbed a Coke out of the fridge. Passing time, I collected all the books I had duplicate copies of and placed them on my desk. A book giveaway would make me feel better. When I went downstairs to find my Coke—because apparently it had run away from me at some point—a familiar warmth spread along my neck.

I froze on the bottom step, hand gripping the banister.

There was a knock on the door.

Hopping from the step to the floor, I rushed to the door and threw it open. Out of breath, I clenched the knob. “Hey.”

Daemon arched a dark eyebrow. “It sounded like you were going to come straight through the door.”

I flushed. “I, uh, was…looking for my drink.”

“Looking for your drink?”

“I lost it.”

He glanced over my shoulder, a small smile playing on his lips. “It’s right there, on the table.”

Turning around, I saw the red-and-white can laughing at me from a corner table. “Oh. Well, thank you.”

Daemon stepped inside, brushing my arm as he passed. Oddly, the fact he just invited himself in didn’t upset me anymore. He shoved his hands into his pockets and leaned against the wall. “Kitten…”

A thrill went through me. “Daemon…?”

The half smile was there, but it lacked its usual smugness. “You look tired.”

I crept closer. “I didn’t sleep well last night.”

“Thinking about me?” he asked in a hushed voice.

There wasn’t a moment of hesitation. “Yes.”

His eyes widened slightly with surprise. “Well, I was preparing this whole speech about how you need to stop denying that I consume your every waking thought and haunt your dreams. Now I’m not sure what to say.”

Leaning against the wall beside him, I could feel his body heat. “You, speechless? That’s one for the record books.”

Daemon lowered his head, his eyes as deep and endless as the forests outside. “I didn’t sleep well last night, either.”

I moved closer until my arm brushed his. He stiffened ever so slightly. “Last night—”

“I wanted to apologize,” he said, and I was stunned yet again. He turned so that he was facing me completely, and I found his hand without looking. His fingers threaded through mine. “I’m sorry—”

Someone cleared his throat.

Surprise flitted through me. Before I could turn, Daemon’s eyes narrowed, glinting with anger. He dropped my hand and took a step back. Crap . I’d forgotten about Blake. And I’d forgotten to close the door behind me.

“Am I interrupting?” Blake asked.

“Yes, Bart, you are always interrupting,” Daemon responded.

I turned around, my heart deflating as if someone had popped it. The entire length of my back burned under Daemon’s stare.

Blake opened the storm door and stepped inside. “Sorry it took me so long to get over here.”

“Too bad it didn’t take longer.” Daemon stretched idly, like a cat. “And too bad you didn’t get lost or—”

“Eaten by wild boars or killed in a horrific ten-car pile-up. I get it.” Blake interrupted and sauntered past us. “You don’t need to be here, Daemon. No one is forcing you.”

Daemon pivoted on his heel, following Blake. “There’s no other place I’d rather be.”

My head was already starting to throb. Training with Daemon present wasn’t going to be easy. I slowly made my way into the living room. They were in an epic stare down.

I cleared my throat. “So, um, how are we going to do this?”

Daemon opened his mouth, and the good Lord only knows what he was about to say, but Blake beat him to it. “What we need to do first is figure out what you can already do.”

I tucked my hair back, uncomfortable with both of them staring at me like…like I didn’t even know what. “Uh, I’m not sure there’s much I can do.”

Blake’s lips pursed. “Well, you stopped the branch. And the time with the windows. That’s two things.”

“But I didn’t do them on purpose.” At Blake’s confused expression, I looked over at Daemon. He appeared bored, sprawled on the couch. “What I mean is, it wasn’t a conscious effort, you know.”

“Oh.” His brows lowered. “Well, that’s disappointing.”

Gee. Thanks. My hands fell to my sides.

Daemon’s bright gaze slid to Blake. “What a great motivator you are.”

Blake ignored him. “So these have been random outbursts of power?” When I nodded, he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Maybe it will just fade?” I said, hopeful.

“It would’ve already done that by now. See, one of four things happens after a mutation, from what I could learn.” He started moving around the living room, giving me a wide berth. “A human can be healed, and then it fades after a few weeks, even months. Or a human can be mutated and it sticks, and they develop the same abilities as a Luxen—or more. Then there are the ones who kind of…self-destruct. But you’re out of that stage.”