I wiped a hand over my damp, clammy forehead. “What plans?”
“Dee and I were talking in English about throwing a party the week after next,” Carissa jumped in. “Something—”
“Huge,” Lesa said.
“Small,” Carissa corrected, eyes narrowing on her friend. “Just something with a few people.”
Dee nodded, and her bright green eyes glimmered with excitement. “Our parents are going to be out of town Friday, so it works out perfectly.”
I glanced at Daemon. He winked. My stupid heart skipped a beat.
“That’s so cool that your parents are letting you have a party at your house,” Carissa said. “Mine would stroke out if I even suggested something like that.”
Dee shrugged one shoulder and looked away. “Our parents are pretty cool.”
I forced my expression blank as a pang hit me in the chest. I truly believed Dee wanted her parents alive more than she wanted anything else in this world. And maybe even Daemon, too. Then he wouldn’t bear the weight of being responsible for his family.
During the time we’d spent together, I’d figured out most of his bad attitude was because of all the stress. And there was his twin brother’s death…
The party became the topic of discussion at the table for the rest of the lunch period. Which was kind of cool scheduling, since my birthday was the following Saturday. But by Friday, the party would be all over the school. In a town where drinking in a cornfield was the height of excitement on a Friday night, no way was this going to stay a “small” party. Did Dee realize that?
“You okay with all of this?” I whispered to Daemon.
He shrugged. “Not like I can stop her.”
I knew he could if he wanted, which meant he didn’t have a problem with it.
“Cookie?” he offered, holding a cookie full of chocolate chips.
Upset tummy or not, there was no way I could refuse that. “Sure.”
His lips tipped up one side and he leaned toward me, his mouth inches from mine. “Come and get it.”
Come and get…? Daemon placed half the cookie between those full, totally kissable lips.
Oh, holy alien babies everywhere…
My mouth dropped open. Several of the girls at the table made sounds that had me wondering if they were turning into puddles under the table, but I couldn’t bring myself to check out what they really were doing.
That cookie—those lips—were right there.
Heat swept over my cheeks. I could feel the eyes of everyone else, and Daemon…dear God, Daemon arched his brows, daring me.
Dee gagged. “I think I’m going to hurl.”
Mortified, I wanted to crawl in a hole. What did he think I was going to do? Take the cookie from his mouth like something straight out of an R-rated version of Lady and the Tramp? Heck, I kind of wanted to, and I wasn’t sure what that said about me.
Daemon reached up and took the cookie. There was a gleam to his eyes, as if he’d just won some battle. “Time’s up, Kitten.”
I stared at him.
Breaking the cookie in two, he handed me the larger piece. I snatched it away, half tempted to throw it back in his face, but it was…it was chocolate chip. So I ate it and loved it.
Taking another sip of my smoothie, I felt unease skitter along my spine like I was being watched. Glancing around the cafeteria, I expected to find Daemon’s alien ex-girlfriend giving me her trademark bitch look, but Ash Thompson was chatting with another boy. Huh. Was he a Luxen? There weren’t many their age, but I doubted Ash in all her supremeness would be smiling at a human boy. My gaze moved away from their table, scanning the rest of the cafeteria.
Mr. Garrison stood by the double doors to the library, but he was staring at a table full of jocks who were making some intricate designs with their mashed potatoes. No one else even remotely looked in our direction.
I shook my head, feeling foolish for being weirded out over nothing. It wasn’t like an Arum was going to bum-rush the high school cafeteria. Maybe I was coming down with something. My hands shook a little as I reached for the chain around my neck. The obsidian was cool against my skin, comforting—a herald of safety. So I needed to stop freaking out. Maybe that was why I was lightheaded and dizzy.
It surely had nothing to do with the boy sitting beside me.
…
There were several packages waiting for me at the post office and I only barely squealed. They were advanced reader copies from other bloggers passing them along for review. And I was, like, whatever. Sure evidence I was coming down with mad cow disease.
The trip home was torturous. My hands felt weak. My thoughts were scattered. Gathering my mail close to my chest, I ignored the way the skin on the back of my neck tingled as I climbed the porch steps. And I also ignored six feet and then some of boy leaning against the railing.
“You didn’t come straight home after school.” Annoyance colored his tone. Like he was my own screwed-up, super-hot version of the Secret Service and I’d managed to evade him.
I dug out my keys with my free hand. “Obviously I had to go to the post office.” I pushed open the door and dropped the pile on the table inside the foyer. Of course, he was right behind me, not waiting for an invite.
“Your mail could’ve waited.” Daemon followed me into the kitchen. “What is it? Just books?”
Grabbing the OJ from the fridge, I sighed. People who didn’t heart books didn’t understand. “Yeah, it was just books.”
“I know there probably aren’t any Arum around right now, but you can never be too careful, and you have a trace on you that will lead them right to our doorsteps. Right now, that’s more important than your books.”
Nah, books were more important than the Arum. I poured myself a glass, too tired to get into it with Daemon. We hadn’t mastered the art of polite conversation yet. “Drink?”
He sighed. “Sure. Milk?”
I gestured at the fridge. “Help yourself.”
“You offered. You’re not going to get it for me?”
“I offered orange juice,” I replied, taking my glass to the table. “You picked milk. And keep it down. My mom’s asleep.”
Muttering under his breath, he grabbed a glass of milk. As he sat beside me, I realized he was wearing black sweats, which reminded me of the last time he’d been in my house dressed like that. We’d gotten into it. Our argument had turned into a steamy make-out session straight from one of those cheesy romance novels I read. The encounter still kept me up late at night. Not that I’d ever admit it.
It was so hot, Daemon’s alien mojo had blown most of the lightbulbs in the house and had fried my laptop. I really missed my laptop and my blog. Mom promised me a new computer for my birthday. Two more weeks…
I fiddled with my glass, not looking up. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Depends,” he replied smoothly.
“Do you…feel anything around me?”
“Other than what I felt this morning when I saw how good you looked in those jeans?”
“Daemon.” I sighed, trying to disregard the girl in me that screamed, HE NOTICED ME! “I’m being serious.”
His long fingers idly traced circles on the wooden table. “The back of my neck gets all warm and tingly. Is that what you’re talking about?”
I peeked up. A half smile played across his lips. “Yeah, you feel it, too?”
“Whenever we’re near.”
“It doesn’t bother you?”
“Does it bother you?”
I wasn’t sure what to say. The tingling wasn’t painful or anything, just weird. But what it symbolized did bother me—the damn connection we knew nothing about. Even our hearts were beating the same.
“It could be a…side effect of the healing.” Daemon watched me over the rim of his glass. I bet he’d look hot with a milk mustache. “Are you feeling well?” he asked.