The Brightest Night (Origin #3) - Jennifer L. Armentrout Page 0,35

would do that.

Muscles twitching in my thighs, I unfolded my body from the near-fetal position. Having my legs stretched out helped. A little. Tiny twitches danced along the back of my thighs and then my calves, causing my legs to jerk.

“You okay?” Zoe asked.

“Yeah. I’m just…” I wasn’t just feeling twitchy. There was more, a restlessness that pushed to the edge of frustration, the kind that made you want to cry or stomp for no apparent reason. I was antsy.

Antsy to the point it itched at my skin. I couldn’t sit in here and stare at angel paintings. Probably had a lot to do with what we’d been talking about. “I need to get moving around. I can’t sit here.”

“Same,” Zoe shared. “Not when we have all this heavy, dark crap in our heads. I can show you around, if you want.”

Interest more than just piqued, I pushed off the couch. “Are you sure I’m allowed to roam like a free-range Trojan?”

“Free-range Trojan?” Zoe snorted. “If Grayson is allowed to actually come into contact with others here, I don’t see why you wouldn’t be able to.”

Hearing his name made me think of last night. God only knows what he must be thinking, but I wondered how he was … well, handling everything. As much as he appeared to hate humans, he had cared for Kent, and even I could see he was taking Kent’s death hard.

Sorrow poured into my chest as I gathered up the lids, placing them onto the containers of food. In comparison to Zoe and everyone, I’d barely known Kent, and Clyde and Chas even less so, but their deaths still hurt.

Especially Kent’s.

“How is Grayson doing?” I asked, brushing my hands off on a napkin when I was finished storing the food away.

“He’s doing okay.” Zoe straightened the hem of her shirt as she walked around the coffee table. “He’s not really wanting to talk about Kent or Clyde, but I know he feels responsible.”

“It’s not his fault.” What happened to Kent happened before anyone knew what was going on. It had been so fast—a sniper and a bullet had found him, ending his life before any of us realized the threat had been there.

“I think he knows that, but sometimes it’s easier to blame yourself than to accept that nothing could’ve been done,” she said, sounding wiser than any eighteen-year-old I knew. “Grayson is…”

“If you say complicated, I’m going to hit you.”

Zoe laughed as the front door opened before she reached it. Honest to God, a huge part of wanting to get control of the Source was so that I could be incredibly lazy like every being I knew with alien DNA was. “I was actually going to say complicated.”

I sighed.

“He’s just … well, he’s just very layered,” she said after a moment. “He’s definitely prickly.”

“That’s an understatement.”

“But he’ll grow on you.”

“Like an STD,” I muttered under my breath.

“Before you know it, you two will be the best of friends,” she said. That was about as likely as me befriending a monkey carrying the Ebola virus like that little girl in that old movie. “Don’t lock the door. There’s no need here, and I don’t know if anyone has the key.”

As I followed her outside, my imagination ran wild with what could happen with an unlocked door. At least three serial killers who had a thing for blondes with missing memories could sneak in while we were gone and then lie in wait for my return.

Then again, if that happened, I could probably take them all out.

Feeling a little badass, a small grin tugged my lips up until I realized that I’d also probably take out anyone else who’d unfortunately be in the near vicinity.

Boy, that took the wind right out of my sails and also made me think of what I had asked of Luc. Wondering what Zoe would think, I announced, “I want to work at getting my abilities under control. I mean, not right this very second,” I added when she looked sharply at me. “But, like, tomorrow.”

“Oh,” she said, and that was all she said while we walked past Kat and Daemon’s place. There were no weird feelings of expecting someone to step out, but I wondered how Luc’s conversation was going with him.

“Is that all you have to say?” I asked. “Oh?”

“I was still thinking about it.”

“Didn’t realize there was a lot to think about.”

“There is,” she replied as we continued down the still-empty street.

“Who lives on this street?” I asked.

“Daemon