I was tired, exhausted, but it felt like the bogeyman was waiting outside the door. “But what if the last one comes back?” I paused, realizing a new fear. “Dee’s with Mr. Garrison. He knows I was with you when they attacked. What if he turns me in? What if the DOD—”
“Shh,” Daemon murmured, his hand finding mine. His fingers brushed over the top of mine. Such a simple touch, but I felt it all the way to my toes. “He won’t come back, not yet. And I won’t let Matthew turn you over.”
“But—”
“Kat, I won’t let him. Okay? I promise you. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
The fluttering was there again, but now it felt like a dozen butterflies had taken flight at once. I tried to stamp down the feeling. Alien business aside, Daemon and I…well, we were like magnets that repelled one another. Feeling anything other than annoyance toward him wasn’t possible, but that damn fluttering was there.
I won’t let anything happen to you.
My chest swelled. His touch seared me. Those words filled me with a longing that was overwhelming, unexpected. And it felt good being next to him. My body relaxed. Seconds, maybe minutes later, I drifted off to sleep beside the one boy I couldn’t stand.
Just before sleep claimed me, my last thought was whether I would wake up in the morning beside this Daemon or the jerk Daemon.
Chapter 25
When I awoke the following morning, the sun had crested the mountains surrounding the valley. I really wasn’t on my side of the bed anymore. Hell, I wasn’t on the bed. Half of my body was sprawled across Daemon’s chest. Our legs were tangled together under the comforter. One of his arms was around my waist like a band of steel. My hand was on his stomach. I could feel his heart beating under my cheek, steady and strong.
I lay there, my breath in my throat.
There was something intimate about being wrapped around one another in a bed. Like lovers.
A sweet, hot fire washed over my skin, and I squeezed my eyes shut. Every inch of me was hyper-aware of him. Of how my body fit against his, the way his thighs were pressed against mine, the hardness of his stomach under my hand.
My hormones kicked in with the power of a dropkick to the stomach. Heated lightning zipped through my veins. For a moment, I pretended. Not that we weren’t two different species, because I didn’t see him that way, but that we actually liked one another.
And then he shifted and rolled. I was on my back, and he was still on the move. His face burrowed into the space between my neck and shoulder, nuzzling. Sweet baby Jesus…Warm breath danced over my skin, sending shivers down my body. His arm was heavy against my stomach, his leg between mine, pushing up and up. Scorched air fled my lungs.
Daemon murmured in a language I couldn’t understand. Whatever it was, it sounded beautiful and soft. Magical. Unearthly.
I could’ve woken him up but for some reason I didn’t. The thrill of him touching me was far stronger than anything else.
His hand was on the edge of the borrowed shirt, his long fingers on the strip of exposed flesh between the hem of the shirt and the band of the worn pajama bottoms. And his hand inched up under the shirt, across my stomach, where it dipped slightly. My pulse went into cardiac territory. The tips of his fingers brushed my ribs. His body moved, his knee pressed against me.
I gasped.
Daemon stilled. No one moved. The clock on the wall ticked.
And I cringed.
He lifted his head. Eyes like pools of liquid grass stared at me in confusion. They quickly cleared, though, turning sharp and hard within seconds.
“Good morning?” I squeaked.
Using his powerful arms, he lifted himself up. His eyes never left mine. Daemon seemed to drag in a deep breath. I wasn’t sure if he let it out. Something passed between us, unspoken and heavy. His eyes narrowed. I had the funny feeling that he was sizing up the situation and somehow I was to blame for his sleepy—albeit really, really nice—fondling.
Like any of this was my fault.
Without saying a word, he disappeared above me. The door opened and slammed shut behind him without my even catching a glimpse of him.
I stayed there, staring at the ceiling, heart pounding. Cheeks flushed, my body way, way too hot. Not sure of how much time passed, but the door opened again, at normal human speed.
Dee popped her head in, her eyes wide. “Did you two…?”
Funny that out of everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours, that was the first question she asked.
“No,” I said, barely recognizing my own voice. I cleared my throat. “I mean, we slept together, but not slept, slept together.”
I rolled over, burying my face into a pillow. It smelled like him—crisp and warm. Like autumn leaves. I groaned.
…
I was sure that if someone had told me I’d find myself sitting in a room with half a dozen aliens on a Saturday afternoon, I would’ve told them to get off the drugs. Yet, here I was, sitting in a recliner in the Black household, legs tucked under me but ready to run for the door if necessary.
Daemon was perched on the arm of the recliner, arms folded over his chest. The very chest I’d woken up on. A flush crept up my throat. We hadn’t spoken. Not a single word, which was okay by me.
But his current position had been duly noted by everyone. Dee looked oddly smug. A deep, unforgiving scowl had settled on Ash’s and Andrew’s faces, but the fact I was here overshadowed any reason why Daemon could be playing guard dog.
Mr. Garrison had come up short. “What is she doing here?”
“She’s lit up like a freaking disco ball,” Ash said accusingly. “I could probably see her from Virginia.”