“Oh, so we’re back to you doing things to make your sister happy? Are you getting bonus points for asking?” I asked before I could stop myself.
“No.” He reached out, catching my chin in a gentle grasp, forcing me to look at him. And when I did, I couldn’t breathe. His eyes churned. “I’m worried. I’m worried for a thousand different reasons and I hate this—I hate feeling like I can’t do anything about it. That history is on repeat and even though I can see it as clear as day, I can’t stop it.”
His words opened up a hole in my chest and suddenly I thought of Dad. When I was little and would get upset, usually over something stupid like a toy I wanted, I could never really put my frustration into words. Instead, I’d throw a fit or pout. And Dad…he always said the same thing.
Use your words, Kitty-cat. Use your words.
Words were the most powerful tool. Simple and so often underestimated. They could heal. They could destroy. And I needed to use my words now. I wrapped my fingers around his wrist, welcoming the jolt that touching him gave me.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
Daemon looked confused. “About what?”
“About everything—about not hanging out with Dee and being a terrible friend to Lesa and Carissa.” I took a deep breath and gently pulled his hand away. I looked out the windshield, blinking back tears. “And I’m sorry about not being able to stop training. I get why you don’t want me to. I really do. I understand that you don’t want me in danger and that you don’t trust Blake.”
Daemon sat back against the seat and I forced myself to continue. “Most of all, I do know you fear that I’m going to end up like Bethany and Dawson—whatever really did happen to them—and you want to protect me from that. I understand. And it…it kills me knowing that it hurts you, but you’ve got to understand why I need to be able to control and use my abilities.”
“Kat—”
“Let me finish, okay?” I glanced at him and when he nodded, I took another breath. “This isn’t just about you and what you want. Or what you’re afraid of. This is about me—my future and my life. Granted, I didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life when it came to college, but now I face a future where if I step out of the range of the beta quartz, I’m going to be hunted. Like you. My mom will be in danger if an Arum sees and follows me home. And then there’s this whole DOD mess.”
I squeezed my hand around the obsidian. “I have to be able to defend myself and the people I care about. Because I can’t expect you to always be there to protect me. It’s not right or fair to either of us. That’s why I’m training with Blake. Not to piss you off. Not to get with him. I’m doing it so that I can stand beside you, as your equal, and not be someone you need to protect. And I’m doing this for myself, so that I don’t have to rely on anyone to save me.”
Daemon’s lashes lowered, shielding his eyes. Seconds passed in silence and then he said, “I know. I know why you want to do this. And I respect that. I do.” There was a “but” coming. I could feel it in my bones. “But it’s hard to stand back and let this happen.”
“You don’t know what’s going to happen, Daemon.”
He nodded and then turned to the passenger window. One hand came up, rubbing along his jaw. “It’s hard. That’s all I can say about this. I’ll respect what you want to do, but it’s hard.”
I released the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding on a soft sigh and nodded. I knew he wasn’t going to say anything more about this. Respecting my decision was better than an apology. At least now, we were on the same page, and that was important.
I peeked at him. “Anyway, what are we going to do if we see Vaughn?”
“Haven’t thought that far ahead yet.”
“Wow. This was a good plan.” I paused. “I really doubt Bethany is in one of these houses. That would just be too dangerous.”
“I agree, but why did they have her out in public like that?” He’d asked the million-dollar question. “Where anyone could see her?”
I shook my head. “I got the distinct impression that Vaughn wasn’t too happy. Maybe she escaped.”
He looked at me. “That would make sense. But Vaughn, well, he’s always been a punk.”
“You know him?”
“Not extremely well, but he started working with Lane a few months before Dawson disappeared.” The last word seemed to get stuck on his tongue, as if he were still getting acquainted with the possibility that Dawson wasn’t dead. “Lane had been our handler for God knows how long, and then Vaughn showed up with him. He was there when they told us about Dawson and Bethany.”
Daemon’s throat worked. “Lane seemed genuinely upset. Like Dawson wasn’t just a thing that had died, but a person. Maybe he grew attached to Dawson over the years. See”—he cleared his throat—“Dawson had that kind of effect on people. Even when he was being a smartass, you couldn’t help but like him. Anyway, Vaughn couldn’t have cared less.”
I didn’t know what to say. So I reached over the small space between us and squeezed his arm. He looked at me, his eyes bright. Beyond him, several large snowflakes fell with a quiet hush.
Daemon placed his hand on mine for the briefest moment. Something infinite flared between us—stronger than physical, which was weird because it really fueled all that physical stuff in me. Then he pulled back, watching the snow. “You know what I’ve been thinking?”