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.
Not really. “Why?”
“You look like crap.”
Any other time his comment would’ve started a war in this house, but I just set my half-empty glass down. “I think I’m coming down with something.”
His brows furrowed. The concept of being sick was foreign to Daemon. The Luxen didn’t get sick. Like, ever. “What’s wrong with you?”
“I don’t know. I probably got alien cooties.”
Daemon snorted. “Doubtful. I can’t afford for you to be sick. We need to get you outside and try to work your trace off. Until then, you’re a—”
“If you say I’m a weakness, I will hurt you.” Anger pushed down the nausea in my stomach. “I think I proved that I’m not, especially when I led Baruck away from your house and I killed him.” I struggled to keep my voice low. “Just because I’m human doesn’t mean I’m weak.”
He sat back, brows inching up his forehead. “I was going to say that until then, you’re at risk.”
“Oh.” My cheeks flushed. Whoops. “Well, then, I’m still not weak.”
One second Daemon was sitting at the table and the next he was beside me, kneeling down. He had to look up slightly to see my face. “I know you’re not weak. You’ve proven yourself. And what you did this weekend, tapping into our powers? I still can’t figure out how that happened, but you’re not weak. Ever.”
Whoa. It was hard to stick to my resolve of not caving to the ridiculous notion of us being together when he was actually…nice, and when he stared at me like I was the last piece of chocolate in the whole world.
Which made me think of that damn chocolate chip cookie in his mouth.
The side of his lips twitched as if he knew what I was thinking and was fighting a smile. Not that little smirk of his, but a real smile. And suddenly he was standing, towering over me. “Now I need you to prove you’re not weak. Get off your butt and let’s work off some of that trace.”
I groaned. “Daemon, I’m really not feeling well.”
“Kat…”
“And I’m not saying that to be difficult. I feel like hurling.”
He folded his muscular arms, stretching his Under Armour shirt across his chest. “It’s not safe for you to be running around when you look like a damn lighthouse. As long as you carry the trace, you can’t do anything. Go anywhere.”
I pushed up from the table, ignoring the rolling in my stomach. “I’ll get changed.”
Surprise widened his eyes as he stepped back. “Caving in so easily?”