Jennifer Armentrout: Onyx

I dropped my face in my hands and moaned. “Oh, God.”

Lesa giggled. “It was kind of cute.”

A minute before the tardy bell rang, I felt an all-too-familiar warmth on my neck and glanced up. Daemon swaggered into class. Textbook-less as usual. He had a notebook, but I don’t think he ever wrote anything in it. I was beginning to suspect our math teacher was an alien, because how else would Daemon get away with not doing a damn thing in class?

He passed by without so much as a look.

I twisted around in my chair. “I need to talk to you.”

He slid into his desk chair. “Okay.”

“In private,” I whispered.

His expression didn’t change as he leaned back in his chair. “Meet me in the library at lunch. No one really goes in there. You know, with all those books and stuff.”

I made a face before flipping to the front of the class. Maybe five seconds later, I felt his pen poking me in the back. Taking a deep, patient breath, I faced him. Daemon had his desk tipped forward. Inches separated us. “Yes?”

He grinned. “You look a lot better than the last time I saw you.”

“Thanks,” I grumbled.

His gaze flickered around me, and I knew what he was doing. He was looking at the trace. “Know what?”

I cocked my head to the side, waiting.

“You’re not glowing,” he whispered.

Surprised, I let my jaw fall slack. I’d been shining like a disco ball on Monday and now I didn’t have a trace? “Like, at all?”

He shook his head.

The teacher started the class, so I had to face the front again, but I wasn’t paying attention. My mind was stuck on the fact I wasn’t glowing anymore. I should be—no, I was ecstatic, but the connection, it was still there. My hope that it would fade along with the trace was total bunk.

After class, I asked the girls to let Dee know I’d be late for lunch. Since they’d overheard part of the conversation, Carissa was full of giggles and Lesa launched into her fantasy about doing it in the library. Something I didn’t need to know. Or think about. But now I was, because I could so picture Daemon getting into that sort of thing.

Morning classes dragged. Mr. Garrison gave me the usual untrustworthy glance throughout biology after his eyes widened upon seeing me. He was like the unofficial guardian of the Luxen living outside of the alien colony. The non-glowy version of me seemed to get as much attention as the glowy version. Probably had more to do with the fact he wasn’t too happy that I knew what they really were.

The door opened just as he went for the projector, and a boy walked in, wearing a vintage Pac-Man shirt—which was made of awesome. A low murmur went through the classroom as the stranger handed Mr. Garrison a note.

He was new, obviously. His brown hair was artfully messy, like it was styled that way on purpose. Good looking, too, with golden-colored skin and a confident grin on his face.

“It seems we have a new student,” Mr. Garrison said, dropping the note on his desk. “Blake Saunders from…?”

“California,” the boy supplied. “Santa Monica.”

Several ooh s and ahh s followed that. Lesa sat up straighter. Yay. I’d no longer be the “new kid.”

“All right, Blake from Santa Monica.” Mr. Garrison scanned the classroom, his gaze stopping on the empty seat beside me. “There’s your seat and your lab partner. Have fun.”

My eyes narrowed on Mr. Garrison, not sure if “Have fun” was a thinly veiled insult or a secret hope the non-alien boy would distract me from the alien one.

Appearing oblivious to the curious stares, Blake took his seat next to me and smiled. “Hi.”

“Hi. I’m Katy from Florida.” I grinned. “Now known as ’no longer the new kid.’”

“Ah, I see.” He glanced up to where Mr. Garrison was wheeling the projector to the middle of the classroom. “Small town, not many faces, everyone stares kind of thing?”

“You got it.”

He laughed softly. “Good. I was beginning to think something was wrong with me.” He pulled out a notebook, his arm brushing mine. A static charge shocked me. “Sorry about that.”

“Totally okay,” I told him.

Blake gave me one more quick grin before turning his gaze to the front of the classroom. Fiddling with the chain around my neck, I sneaked a quick peek at the new boy. Well, at least bio now had some eye candy. Couldn’t go wrong with that.

…

Daemon wasn’t waiting at the double doors to the library. Shouldering my bag, I entered the musty-smelling room. A young librarian glanced up and smiled as I looked around. The back of my neck was warm, but I didn’t see him. Knowing Daemon, he was probably hiding so no one would see His Coolness in a library. I passed a few underclassmen at the tables and computers eating their lunches, and then roamed around until I found him back in the nosebleed section—Eastern European culture. A basic no-man’s-land.

He was lounging in a cubicle beside an outdated computer, hands shoved into the pockets of his faded jeans. A wavy lock of hair covered his forehead, brushing against thick lashes. His lips curled into a half smile.

“I was wondering if you were ever going to find me.” He made no move to clear up any space in the tiny 6x6 hole.

I dropped my bag outside the walls and hopped up on the desk opposite him. “Embarrassed someone would see you and think you’re capable of reading?”

“I do have a reputation to maintain.”

“And what a lovely reputation that is.”

He stretched out his legs so that his feet were under mine. “So what did you want to talk about”—his voice lowered to a deep, sexy whisper—“in private?”

I shivered—and it had nothing to do with the temperature. “Not what you’re hoping.”

Daemon gave me a sexy smirk.

“Okay.” I gripped the edge of the desk. “How did you know I was sick in the middle of the night?”

Daemon stared at me for a moment. “You don’t remember?”

His eerie eyes were way too intense. I dropped my gaze…to his mouth. Wrong move. I stared at the map of Europe over his shoulder. Better. “No. Not really.”

“Well, it was probably the fever. You were burning up.”

My eyes snapped back to his. “You touched me?”

“Yes, I touched you…and you weren’t wearing a lot of clothes.” The smug stretch of his lips spread. “And you were soaked…in a white T-shirt. Nice look. Very nice.”

Heat crept over my cheeks. “The lake…it wasn’t a dream?”

Daemon shook his head.

“Oh my God, so I did go swimming in the lake?”

He pushed off the desk and took one step forward, which put him in the same breathing space as me…if he actually needed to breathe. “You did. Not something I expected to see on a Monday night, but I’m not complaining. I saw a lot.”

“Shut up,” I hissed.

“Don’t be embarrassed.” He reached out, tugging on the sleeve of my cardigan. I smacked his hand away. “It’s not like I haven’t seen the upper part before, and I didn’t get a real good look down—”

I came off the desk swinging. My knuckles only brushed his face before he caught my hand. Wowzers, he was fast. Daemon pulled me up against his chest and lowered his head, eyes snapping with restrained anger. “Don’t hit, Kitten. It’s not nice.”

“ You’re not nice.” I tried pulling back, but he kept my wrist secured in his hand. “Let me go.”

“I’m not sure I can do that. I must protect myself.” But he dropped my hand.

“Oh, really, that’s your reason for—for manhandling me?”

“Manhandling?” He pressed forward until my lower back was against the cubicle desk. “This isn’t manhandling or whatever the hell that is.”