Jennifer Armentrout: Onyx

The cage…the cage was empty.

Part of me didn’t want to process what that meant, couldn’t let the thought sink in and take root. My stomach cramped, and tears burned the back of my sore throat.

“Daemon,” I croaked.

He stalked to the cage, stood there a moment, and then knelt, pressing his forehead against his hand. A shudder racked his body. I hurried to his side and placed my hand on his rigid back. Muscles bunched under my touch.

“He…he lied to me,” Daemon said, voice ragged. “He lied to us.”

To come this close, to come seconds from seeing his brother again, was heartbreaking. The kind of shattering there was no coming back from. There was nothing I could say. No words could make this better. The emptiness tearing open inside me was nothing compared with what I knew Daemon was feeling.

Choking back a sob, I knelt behind him and rested my cheek on his back. Had Dawson ever been here? There was a good chance he’d been at the warehouse because of what Mo had said, but if he’d been here, he was gone now.

Gone again.

Daemon jerked up. Caught off guard, I started to tip over, but he whipped around, catching me before I hit the floor and pulling me to my feet.

My heart stuttered and then accelerated. “Daemon…”

“Sorry.” His voice was rough. “We…we need to get out of here.”

I nodded, stepping back. “I…I’m so sorry.”

He pressed his lips into a thin line. “It’s not your fault. You had nothing to do with this. He tricked us. He lied.”

I honestly wanted to sit down and cry. This was so wrong.

Daemon took my hand, and we headed back to the car. I climbed in, buckling the seat belt with numb fingers and a heavy heart. We pulled out of the plaza, hitting the road in silence. Several miles later two Ford Expeditions sped past us. I twisted in my seat, expecting the vehicles to do a one-eighty in the middle of the road, but they kept going.

Turning around, I glanced at Daemon. His jaw was carved out of ice right now. His eyes glowing like diamonds from the moment we stepped out of the office building. I wanted to say something, but there really weren’t words that could do the loss any justice.

Daemon had lost Dawson all over again. The injustice of it ate away at me.

I reached between us, placing my hand on his arm. He glanced at me briefly but said nothing. Settling back against the seat, I watched the scenery blur by in a mesh of shadows. I kept my hand on his arm, though, hoping it brought him comfort like he’d given me earlier.

By the time we reached the main route leading to our road, I could barely keep my eyes open. It was late, past midnight, and the only good thing I had going was my mom was in fact at work and not wondering where in the hell I’d been all day. There had probably been texts from her, and she wasn’t going to be happy when I responded with some lame excuse.

Mom and I were going to have to talk. Not now, but soon.

We pulled into Daemon’s driveway and the SUV idled to a stop. Dee’s Jetta was in the driveway, along with Matthew’s car. “Did you call them, tell them what happened to…me?”

He took a breath and I realized he hadn’t been breathing this whole time. “They wanted to help find you, but I had them stay here in case…”

In case things had gone badly. A very smart move. At least Dee hadn’t experienced the piercing hope that turned into bottomless despair like Daemon had.

“If the mutation doesn’t hold, I will find Will,” he said, “and I’m going to kill him.”

I was probably going to help, but before I could respond, Daemon leaned over the center console and kissed me. The tender touch was so at odds with what he’d just said. Deadly and sweet—that was what Daemon was; two very different kinds of souls rested in him, fused together.

Daemon pulled back with a shudder. “I can’t…I can’t face Dee right now.”

“But won’t she worry?”

“I’ll text her as soon as you’re settled.”

“Okay. You can stay with me.” Always , I wanted to add.

A wry grin appeared on his lips. “I’ll get out before your mom comes home. Swear.”

That would be a good idea. He asked me to wait while he got out and came around the front of the SUV, slower than he normally moved. Tonight had taken its toll. He opened the door and reached in for me.

“What are you doing?”

He arched a brow. “You haven’t had shoes on this entire time, so no more walking.”

I wanted to tell him that I could walk, but some inherent instinct told me not to push it. Daemon needed this, needed to take care of someone right now. I relented and scooted to the edge of the seat.

The front door to his house swung open, slamming against the clapboard like a gunshot. I froze, but Daemon spun around, his hands closing into fists, preparing to face anything and expecting the worst.

Dee rushed out. Strands of dark curly hair streamed behind her. Even from where I was, I could see the tears glistening on her pale cheeks, under her swollen eyes. But she was laughing. She was smiling, babbling nonsense, but she was smiling .

I slipped out of the seat, wincing as coldness bit deep into my flesh. Daemon took a step forward as the front door started to swing shut but stopped. A tall and thin form filled the doorway, swaying like a reed. As the form drifted forward, Daemon stumbled.

Oh God, Daemon never stumbled.

The why sunk in slowly, and I blinked—too scared to believe what I was seeing. It all seemed surreal. Like maybe I’d fallen asleep on the way back, and I was dreaming something too perfect.

Because under the glow of the porch light was a boy with dark wavy hair curling around broad cheekbones, lips that were wide and expressive, and eyes that were dull but still such a striking shade of green. An exact replica of Daemon stood on the porch. Gaunt and pale, but it was like seeing Daemon in two spots.

“Dawson,” Daemon croaked out.

Then he broke into a dead run, feet pounding over frozen ground and up the steps. Wetness gathered in my eyes, spilling down my cheeks as Daemon threw his arms out, his broader body blocking his brother’s.

Somehow, someway, Dawson was home.

Daemon pulled his brother to him, but Dawson… He was just standing there, arms limp against his sides, his face as beautiful as his brother’s but painfully empty.

“Dawson…?” Uncertainty carried in Daemon’s voice as he pulled back, twisting my insides into raw, nervous little knots that traveled up my throat, getting stuck and stealing my breath.

As the two brothers stared at each other, with the wind blowing loose flakes of snow on the ground, sending them swirling into the night sky, I remembered what Daemon had said earlier. He had been right. In that moment, everything did change…for the better and for the worse.

Writing acknowledgments is probably the hardest part of the book-making business. Every time, I feel like I forgot someone terribly important, and like Katy would say, that would make me a douche canoe.

I want to thank my family and friends for not hating me when I ignore them for days to finish a book. A huge shout-out and a big thank-you to the book lovers and bloggers out there. Your love for the Lux series…and Daemon awes me.

A big thank-you to Liz Pelletier, the editor behind the Lux Series and the one who demanded that I put more Daemon into Onyx . Yeah, thank her. Thank you to my awesome publicist, Misa, and the rest of the crew at Entangled. And, of course, I can’t forget my awesome agent, Kevan Lyon, and foreign rights agent, Rebecca Mancini, and all the hard work they do.

Also, thank you Wendy Higgins!