"No, just this type. I guess it has something to do with the heating and cooling. Matthew explained it to me once. Honestly, I wasn't paying attention. I know it can kill them. We carry it on ourselves whenever we go out, usually hidden. Dee carries one in her purse." I shuddered. "I can't believe I killed someone."
"You didn't kill someone. You killed an alien - an evil that would've killed you without thinking twice. That was going to kill me," he added as an afterthought, absently rubbing his chest. "You saved my life, Kitten." Still, knowing that the guy had been evil didn't change how it settled in my stomach.
"You were like Snowbird," Daemon said finally.
His eyes were closed, face relaxed. It was possibly the first time I'd seen him so...open.
"How do you figure?"
A small smile played across his lips. "You could've left me there and ran, like I said. But instead you came back and you helped me. You didn't have to."
"I...I couldn't leave you there." I averted my gaze. "It wouldn't have been right. And I would've never been able to forgive myself."
"I know. Get some sleep, Kitten." I was tired, exhausted, but it felt like the bogeyman was waiting outside the door. "But what if the last one comes back?" I paused, realizing a new fear. "Dee's with Mr. Garrison.
He knows I was with you when they attacked.
What if he turns me in? What if the DOD - "
"Shh," Daemon murmured, his hand finding mine. His fingers brushed over the top of mine.
Such a simple touch, but I felt it all the way to my toes. "He won't come back, not yet. And I won't let Matthew turn you over."
"But - "
"Kat, I won't let him. Okay? I promise you.
I won't let anything happen to you." The fluttering was there again, but now it felt like a dozen butterflies had taken flight at once. I tried to stamp down the feeling. Alien business aside, Daemon and I...well, we were like magnets that repelled one another. Feeling anything other than annoyance toward him wasn't possible, but that damn fluttering was there.
I won't let anything happen to you.
My chest swelled. His touch seared me.
Those words filled me with a longing that was overwhelming, unexpected. And it felt good being next to him. My body relaxed. Seconds, maybe minutes later, I drifted off to sleep beside the one boy I couldn't stand.
Just before sleep claimed me, my last thought was whether I would wake up in the morning beside this Daemon or the jerk Daemon.
Chapter 25
When I awoke the following morning, the sun had crested the mountains surrounding the valley. I really wasn't on my side of the bed anymore. Hell, I wasn't on the bed. Half of my body was sprawled across Daemon's chest. Our legs were tangled together under the comforter.
One of his arms was around my waist like a band of steel. My hand was on his stomach. I could feel his heart beating under my cheek, steady and strong.
I lay there, my breath in my throat.
There was something intimate about being wrapped around one another in a bed. Like lovers.
A sweet, hot fire washed over my skin, and I squeezed my eyes shut. Every inch of me was hyper-aware of him. Of how my body fit against his, the way his thighs were pressed against mine, the hardness of his stomach under my hand.
My hormones kicked in with the power of a dropkick to the stomach. Heated lightning zipped through my veins. For a moment, I pretended. Not that we weren't two different species, because I didn't see him that way, but that we actually liked one another.
And then he shifted and rolled. I was on my back, and he was still on the move. His face burrowed into the space between my neck and shoulder, nuzzling. Sweet baby Jesus...Warm breath danced over my skin, sending shivers down my body. His arm was heavy against my stomach, his leg between mine, pushing up and up. Scorched air fled my lungs.
Daemon murmured in a language I couldn't understand. Whatever it was, it sounded beautiful and soft. Magical. Unearthly.
I could've woken him up but for some reason I didn't. The thrill of him touching me was far stronger than anything else.
His hand was on the edge of the borrowed shirt, his long fingers on the strip of exposed flesh between the hem of the shirt and the band of the worn