Obsidian (Lux 1)

“My mom—she’s a nurse and works in Virginia, too.” All of his movements were pulling on the shawl. It was halfway off my shoulders. “Do you know where you’re going to college yet?” I asked, struggling for something to say. Friendly hands aside, he was sort of nice.

“Going to WVU with the buds.” He frowned at my own untouched drink. “You don’t drink?”

“Oh, no, I do.” I took a sip to prove it. He smiled and looked off, talking about which of his friends were planning on going to Marshall instead of WVU. When he wasn’t looking, I dumped half the cup out.

Simon kept on asking questions, interrupted every few minutes when one of his friends would swing by. I dumped most of my drink out, which earned me several refills. Simon told me to stand wherever we were as he hustled back and forth between the keg. By my third pretend cup, Simon was probably thinking I was a lush but at least he was getting a great workout.

Before I knew it, we were a good distance away from the bonfire, among the first cropping of trees. Each step became more difficult. Partly due to the uneven ground and my heels, and even the slightest bit of Simon’s weight was hard to support.

Simon straightened and pulled his arm off my shoulders, taking the shawl along with him. It fluttered somewhere behind me, quickly blending in with the shadowy ground and thick undergrowth.

“Crap,” I said, turning around, squinting.

“What?” he slurred a little.

“My shawl—I dropped it.” I took a couple steps back toward the fire.

“Mmm, you look better without,” he said. “That dress—dayum.”

I shot him an annoyed look over my shoulder before returning to staring at…everything that looked black. “Yeah, well, it belongs to my mom, and she’ll kill me if I lose it.”

“We’ll find it. Don’t worry about it now.”

Suddenly, his arm was around my waist, pulling me back. Startled, I dropped the cup of beer and let out a nervous laugh as I twisted out of his grasp. “I think I need to find it now.”

“Can’t it wait?” Simon took a step closer to me, and I took one back. He was standing in front of me, and I realized I was trapped between him and a tree. “We were talking, and there’s this thing I’d wanted to do.” I glanced over at the bonfire. It seemed too far away now. “What?”

He placed a massive hand on my shoulder, and his grip was tight. The feeling that crept over me was more than just the ick factor. It was something else. It was more powerful, leaving a strange taste on the roof of my mouth, like when the Arum had spoken to me outside the library. He leaned in, pulling me forward at the same time, dipping his head.

I froze for a second, and that was all it took. His mouth was on mine, tasting of beer and breath mints. He made a sound and pushed forward. My back was against a tree before I could shove him back, and he still kept pushing forward, kissing my tightly sealed lips. I couldn’t breathe. Placing my hands on his chest, I pushed until I was able to wrench my mouth free.

“Whoa there, Simon, that’s too much,” I said, dragging in air. I tried to wiggle myself free, but he was unmovable.

“Aw come on, it’s not too much.” His hand worked its way between me and the tree, until it was against my back, holding me in place.

I pushed again against his chest, angry. “I didn’t come here for this!”

Simon laughed. “Everyone comes here for this. Look, we’re both drinking, both having fun. There’s nothing wrong with that. I won’t even tell anyone if you don’t want me to. Everybody knows you did it with Daemon over the summer.”

“What?” I screeched. “Simon, let me—”

His sloppy, wet lips cut off my words. His tongue slipped into my mouth, and I wanted to puke. My heart rate tripled, and in an instant, I wished I’d listened to Daemon, that I had taken him up on his offer to go home, because this was out of my league.

I managed to get my head free. “Simon, stop!”

And then Simon did stop. I sagged against the tree, dazed and breathless. There was the sound of someone hitting the ground and then a wounded cry.

Someone was bending over a sprawled Simon, reaching down and picking him up by the scruff of his neck. “Do you have a problem understanding simple English?”

I recognized that deep baritone. It was the same voice Daemon had used the day I’d been gardening. Deadly quiet, dangerously low. He was breathing heavily as he stared at the cowering boy.

“Man, I’m sorry,” Simon slurred, grasping Daemon’s wrist. “I thought she—”

“You thought what?” Daemon lifted him onto his feet. “That no meant yes?”

“No! Yes! I thought—”

Daemon raised his hand, and Simon just…just stopped. Arms raised, hands splayed out in midair in front of his face. Blood that had been trickling out of his nose, stopped on his open mouth. Eyes wide and unblinking. A look of fear and drunken confusion was frozen on his face.

Daemon had frozen Simon. Literally.

I stepped forward. “Daemon, what…what did you do?”

He didn’t look at me, his eyes trained on Simon. “It was either this or I’d kill him.”

There was no doubt in my mind that he was capable of killing him. I poked Simon’s arm. It felt real, but stiff. Like a corpse. I swallowed. “Is he alive?”

“Should he be?” he asked.

A look passed between us, heavy with understanding and regret.

Daemon’s jaw tensed. “He’s fine. Right now, it’s like he’s sleeping.”