Oblivion

by Jennifer L. Armentrout

  I arched a brow. “Are you feeling me up, Kat? I’m liking where this is heading.”

  Her lips parted as she continued to press down. My pulse picked up a little as I watched her. Blood drained from her face. “Our heartbeats…they’re the same. Oh my God, how is this possible?”

  “Oh crap.” Not how I wanted to start off this conversation.

  Our eyes locked, and I placed my hand over hers and squeezed. I suspected as much. This only confirmed it, but what I knew about my kind healing humans was so limited, and what I did know was more like whispers and rumors.

  “But it’s not too bad,” I said. “I mean, I’m pretty sure I morphed you into something and this whole heart thing proves we must be connected.” I grinned. “Could be worse.”

  “What could be worse exactly?” Her voice had risen.

  “Us being together.” I shrugged. “It could be worse.”

  “Wait a sec. You think we should be together because of some kind of freaky alien mojo that has connected us? But two minutes ago you were bitching about being stuck with me?”

  “Yeah, well, I wasn’t bitching.” I just had a moment of really bad word choice. “I was pointing out that we are stuck together. This is different…and you’re attracted to me.”

  Her eyes narrowed much like a pissed-off cat. “I’ll get back to that last statement in a second, but you want to be with me because you now feel…forced?”

  I shifted. “I wouldn’t say forced exactly, but…but I like you.” Kat didn’t immediately respond, and I prepared myself. “Oh no, I know that look. What are you thinking?”

  “That this is the most ridiculous declaration of attraction I’ve ever heard,” she said, standing. “That is so lame, Daemon. You want to be with me because of whatever crazy stuff that happened?”

  I rolled my eyes as I stood. “We like each other. We do. It’s stupid that we keep denying it.”

  “Oh, this is coming from the dude who left me on the couch topless?” She shook her head, sending locks of brown hair flying. “We don’t like each other.”

  “Okay. I should probably apologize for that. I’m sorry.” I took a step forward. “We were attracted to each other before I healed you. You can’t say that’s not true, because I’ve always…been attracted to you.”

  And it hit me then how freaking true that was.

  From the very first time I’d seen her standing on my porch—the first argument, the first time she called me a douche, and from the very first time I realized how strong and brave she truly was, I’d been attracted to her. I’d wanted her.

  Perhaps I had protested too loudly this whole time.

  “Being attracted to me is as lame a reason to be with me as the fact we’re stuck together now.”

  “Oh, you know it’s more than that.” I paused, sort of dumbstruck by the fact that a year ago I would have died of laughter if someone had said I’d be where I was right now, saying what I was. “I knew you would be trouble from the start, from the moment you knocked on my door.”

  Kat laughed drily. “That thought is definitely mutual, but that doesn’t excuse the split personality thing you’ve got going on.”

  “Well, I was kind of hoping it did, but obviously not.” I flashed a quick grin. “Kat, I know you’re attracted to me. I know you like—”

  “Being attracted to you isn’t enough,” she said.

  “We get along.”

  She shot me a bland look.

  I couldn’t stop the grin that time and tried for a, “Sometimes we do.”

  “We have nothing in common.”

  “We have more in common than you realize.”

  “Whatever.”

  I caught a piece of her hair and wrapped it around my finger. “You know you want to.”

  She hesitated a moment before she snatched her hair free. “You don’t know what I want. You have no clue. I want a guy who wants to be with me because he actually wants to be. Not that he’s forced to be out of some kind of twisted sense of responsibility.”

  “Kat—”

  “No!” Her hands balled into fists as she drew in another deep breath. “No ‘sorry.’ You have spent months being the biggest jerk to me. You don’t get to decide to like me one day and think I will forget all of that. I want someone to care for me like my dad cared for my mom. And you aren’t him.”

  “How can you know?”

  She stared at me a moment and then turned toward the door as if she planned on leaving. This conversation was so not over. I moved faster than she could track, appearing in front of the door.

  “God, I hate when you do that!” Kat shrieked.

  I stared down at her. “You can’t keep pretending that you don’t want to be with me.”

  She stared back with a look of fierceness I found incredibly sexy and…and yeah, I respected her for that, too. But then that look faded as she pressed her lips together. Sadness had crept in her eyes. “I’m not pretending.”

  Bull. Shit.

  There had been hesitation before she had said that. There had been so much more that powered her words other than anger or frustration. She was afraid and she was sad. I got that. I had been a dick to her. There really wasn’t an excuse in the world to make up for that, and like I’d realized when I’d been holding her in my arms in the field, I didn’t—couldn’t—let her go. “You’re lying.”

  “Daemon.”

  I placed my hands on her hips and tugged her forward. The warmth of her body cascaded over mine, and I closed my eyes briefly, taking in a deep breath that tasted of Kat. “If I wanted to be with…” My hands tightened on her hips, and she swayed a little closer, until our legs brushed once more, proving that her words were at odds with what she wanted. I dipped my head and she shivered. “If I wanted to be with you, you’d make it hard, wouldn’t you?”

  Kat lifted her head. “You don’t want to be with me.”

  Oh, I had to disagree with that. My lips spread into a smile. “I’m thinking I kind of do.”

  A pretty flush moved down her neck, and I wanted to chase it with my lips “Thinking and kind of aren’t the same thing as knowing.”

  “No, it’s not, but it’s something.” It was more than anything. “Isn’t it?”

  Shaking her head, she pulled away. “It’s not enough.”

  I met her stare and sighed. Her stubbornness was something I loathed and was incredibly attracted to, which I guess made me sort of twisted. “You are going to make this hard.”

  She didn’t say anything as she sidestepped me, and I let her get to the door this time.

  “Kat?”

  She faced me. “What?”

  I smiled, and saw her gray eyes light up. “You do realize I love a challenge?”

  Kat laughed softly and turned back to the door, giving me the middle finger. “So do I, Daemon. So do I.”

  Watching her leave, I had to admit that she looked just as good walking toward me as she did walking away.

  I did love a challenge. And I never lose.

  Acknowledgments

  When I was first approached about writing Oblivion, I thought it was a great opportunity to give the Lux fans a little bit more of Daemon. I didn’t plan on actually writing Obsidian, Onyx, and Opal (which is available in the digital version of Oblivion), but that was what happened. So you don’t get just a taste of what it’s like in Daemon’s head. You get a whole heaping of it.

  It really does take a village to finish a book. A huge thank-you to the following people for making it possible—Kevan Lyon, Liz Pelletier, Meredith Johnson, Rebecca Mancini, Stacy Abrams, and the team at Entangled Publishing. Thank you to K.P. Simmon and my assistant/BFF, Stacey Morgan. A special thank-you to Vilma Gonzalez for helping me work through Oblivion.

  None of this would be possible without you, the reader. Because of you, this book happened. There aren’t enough thank-yous in the world.

  Bonus Content

  Continue reading on for Onyx and Opal as told from Daemon’s point of vie
w.

  Onyx

  Book 2 of the Lux series, as told from Daemon’s point of view.

  Chapter 1

  Kat was ignoring me.

  No big surprise there. She had done the same thing during school. As if pretending Homecoming night hadn’t ended with her almost dying and me saving her. Like if she tried hard enough, she could pretend that everything was normal and it would make it all go away.

  Make me go away.

  That wasn’t going to happen anytime soon, and it had nothing to do with the fact that Kat was glowing like a Hummer-sized streetlamp. It had everything to do with the fact that I was so freaking done fighting what I wanted. Over the whole forbidden-fruit shit. Moving on from the mentality that I couldn’t go after what I wanted because of what I was—what Kat was. Damn, I knew what I wanted wasn’t going to be easy. Nothing in life ever was, but that didn’t change how I felt.

  I wanted her.

  And I knew that under all the frustration and all the fighting, Kat wanted me. I just had to prove it, but right now I wanted to throw her over my shoulder, carry her home, and lock her ass in a room.

  Kat coasted her Camry into a parking spot outside the post office, and I pulled in next to her, facing the opposite direction. Rolling down my window, I pinned her with a glare. “What part of going straight to the house did you not understand? I feel like we’ve had this conversation before.”

  Her lips pursed as she returned the glare. “There might be books in there waiting for me.”

  I sighed. “There might be Arum hanging around ready to eat you.”

  Kat wasn’t falling for my logic, especially after I returned from practically scouting the entire state and not finding one. “You’re here, so it’s okay.”

  “Yeah, but I’m trying to be proactive about this and not reactive.” When she rolled her eyes, I opened the driver’s door. “You’re a pain in my ass,” I told her.

  Raising her middle finger, she scratched her cheek.

  I arched a brow as my lips twitched into a grin. “Nice, Kitten.”

  She smiled at me and then spun around, swaying her hips across the parking lot. With those faded jeans hugging her curves, it was a nice view, so I wasn’t complaining about that.

  Not until she jumped in a puddle the size of the Great Lakes.

  Muddy water sprayed in the air, catching my legs. I growled low in my throat. “You’re like a two-year-old.”

  She hopped up on the curb and cast a glare over her shoulder before stalking into the squat building. I waited for her at the end of the aisle as she went to her PO Box.

  “Yay!” she squeaked, her face lighting up as bright as the trace around her as she reached into the box, gathering up an armful of yellow-enveloped packages. She cuddled them close to her chest, like it was a swaddled baby in her arms.

  Cute. Nerdy cute.

  Kat elbowed the box closed and then twisted the little key, locking it. She faced me, and our gazes collided and held for a moment. A faint pink blush zinged across her cheeks. She quickly averted her eyes.

  She brushed past me, quiet as we walked outside, and then, because she couldn’t let me down, she jumped in the puddle again.

  I jumped to the side, but it was too late. From my knee down, my left leg was soaked. “Jesus.”

  She grinned as she hurried to her car, opening the back driver’s door. I quietly followed her, stopping at my SUV to watch her, well, bend over and shove her books inside. She straightened suddenly and looked over her shoulder at me. Something about the look she sent me, part innocence, part rebellious, was a huge turn-on.

  Then again, practically everything she did was a turn-on.

  I groaned under my breath as she returned to situating the boxes like they held breakable family heirlooms. Closing my eyes briefly, I bit down on my lip when the image of Kat formed. She was on her couch, under me, wearing those damn elf pajama bottoms. Nothing else. My stomach shifted. I was hungry for food and for her.

  “I need pancakes,” I announced, opening my eyes. Of course, my gaze zeroed right in on a very attractive part of her.

  Kat shut the door and faced me. “Are you staring at my butt?”

  My lips curved into a smirk as I slowly dragged my gaze up to hers, letting my stare linger in certain areas. That blush was back, spreading down her throat, under the light blue sweater she wore, and her gray eyes had deepened.

  There it was. What I felt was in her eyes. There was no hiding that.

  “I would never do such a thing,” I said.

  She snorted.

  “Pancakes,” I said again.

  “What is with you and pancakes? Why do you keep saying it?”

  “Do you have pancake mix at home?” I asked, ignoring her question.

  Kat frowned in confusion. “Yeah, I think so.”

  “Good.” I grinned. “You’re going to make me some pancakes.”

  She gaped at me. “I am not making you pancakes. There’s a Waffle House somewhere. You’re welcome to go get yourself some pancakes—”

  I moved forward so quickly that she couldn’t track it. I was right in front of her, our bodies nearly touching, and I could see the moment her pupils expanded slightly. “I know there’s a Waffle House nearby, Kitten. But that’s not what I want.” Raising my hand, I tapped the tip of her nose with my finger. “I want you to make me pancakes.”

  She jerked back, scowling at me. “I’m not making you pancakes.”

  “You are.” I pivoted around and headed for my car. Once inside, I grinned at where she still stood. “You are so making me pancakes.”

  Kat sat across from me, her lips pressed together as she watched me lift the fork to my mouth. My stomach rebelled at what I was doing. Something about these pancakes didn’t look right. First off, they were the size of a small moon. Secondly, when I cut into the lopsided stack, the middle was runny, and that just wasn’t right. And when I lifted a piece on my fork, a yellowy powdery substance puffed into the air.

  Maybe demanding that Kat make pancakes was a bad idea.

  I glanced over at the messy counter. The griddle was covered with batter, as was most of the counter and the front of Kat’s sweater. My gaze fell back to the pancakes. If I were human, I’d be afraid of doing what I was about to do.

  I shoved the piece in my mouth and almost spit it right back up. My throat closed off as I forced myself to chew. The maple syrup didn’t even cover up the dry yet wet, tasteless chunk of flour. I willed the mess to go down my throat and stay there as I smiled tightly at Kat. A moment passed.

  A peal of giggles erupted from her. “I can’t believe you actually ate a piece.”

  My mouth felt coated. I’d never get the taste out. “Why?”

  “I’m pretty sure they don’t taste good.” She sat back in her chair, letting her hands fall to her lap. “They don’t look like the pancakes my mom makes.”

  Nope.

  These pancakes were a strange whitish yellow that was somehow nowhere near the color of normal pancakes. I willed my glass of milk closer and then picked it up, downing nearly half the tall