The Brightest Night (Origin #3) - Jennifer L. Armentrout Page 0,45

a woman that pregnant no.”

Completely dazzled by Dee, I found myself walking into Daemon and Kat’s house a few minutes later, not even remembering the short walk or if I had even agreed. The fact I was so, well, starstruck by Dee had everything to do with what her easy smile and somewhat flippant attitude hid. Dee was incredibly intelligent and possessed a quick wit that enabled her to spend many evenings from a secured location outside of Zone 3, arguing with bigoted idiots like Senator Freeman on TV without losing her cool. Not only that, she was remarkably brave, becoming the public face for all the Luxen. There couldn’t be one person in the United States who wouldn’t recognize her. I was sure she had a lot of fans.

I was also sure she had a lot of enemies.

Zoe had been right. I had a total crush on Dee.

She led me through a living room that was free of creepy angel paintings but looked like a bookstore. Neat piles of books were everywhere—on the media console that must’ve housed a TV at some point, stacked in towers on either side. Books were piled on either side of the couch and the gray recliner, and the rest of the space was nothing but rows of mismatched bookshelves, some tall and some white, others short and deep brown, and all of them bursting with books. I’d never seen so many books in one room before.

“Kat is a big reader,” Dee said, noticing what I was staring at. “No one touches her books without permission. If she lets you borrow any of them, that means she likes you, but you’d better return that book back to her in pristine condition.”

Considering I dog-eared pages all the time, I kept my grubby fingers to myself as we walked down a similar narrow hall to the bedroom at the end. Curtains were lashed to the sides of open windows, allowing sunlight to pour into the room. The breeze kept the room cool, giving it an open and airy feeling.

The first thing I noticed was all the stuff. It was like wandering through the baby section in Target. An assembled high chair waited in the corner of the room, next to one of those bouncy chairs I always thought made kids look like human spiders. Beside a folded Pack ’n Play pen was a changing table that featured three different diaper bags. On a small end table was a basket full of bottles and nipples, and there were two strollers and one still in its box.

Then there were the diapers. I didn’t even know there were that many different diaper brands.

A soft laugh came from the vicinity of the large bed. Kat was propped up by a mountain of pillows, deep brown hair swept back from her face in a messy topknot. Her pretty face was flushed as if she’d been out in the sun, but based on the size of her belly, which seemed to have increased from the last time I’d seen her, I doubted she’d been outside. Beside her was a hardcover minus the dust jacket, a bookmark jutting out of the middle of the book. Forgotten on the floor was a basket of bright blue yarn and what might have been a scarf? The beginning of a sweater? Something I really hoped no one would be wearing.

“Daemon has been a bit of an overachiever when it comes to baby prepping,” she said. “Thank God he’s not into doomsday prepping.”

“Actually, that would’ve been helpful if that were the case.” Dee plopped down on the bed beside Kat, crossing her long legs. “But then that would mean Daemon would actually do something really useful.”

Kat snorted. “At least we won’t have to worry about running out of diapers.” Looking down, she patted her rounded stomach. “That is, if the little glow bug decides to show up.”

“Well, he’s definitely taking after Daemon,” Dee commented, peering down at Kat’s belly. “Aren’t you, little guy?”

“How did you find out that it’s a boy?” I lingered just inside the bedroom, fingers clasped in front of me, unsure of what to do.

“We don’t know a hundred percent, but Ashley keeps referring to the baby as a ‘he’ and, well, you’ve met Ashley. Sometimes she knows more than we do,” Kat explained.

“Yeah, she does.” Glancing around the room again, my attention was snagged by a stack of gardening gloves on the oak-finished dresser. They were all new, with their tags still on