White Hot Kiss

by Jennifer L. Armentrout

  here that was even more important. I apologized once again and left the study. I felt as if I was on the verge of crying and screaming—or punching someone.

  Zayne followed me into the hallway. “Hey.”

  I stopped near the stairs, a rush of anger hitting me hard in the gut. I waited until he stood beside me. “You just had to tell him about the Seeker in the alley. Thanks.”

  He frowned. “He needed to know, Layla. You weren’t being safe and you could’ve been hurt.”

  “Then why didn’t you say something to me instead of running to your daddy?”

  His jaw immediately clenched. “I didn’t run to my daddy.”

  I folded my arms. “That’s not how it looks.”

  Zayne gave me a sigh I was familiar with. It said you’re being childish and getting on my last nerve.

  I ignored it. “Why would you even suggest that I stop tagging? You know how important it is to me.”

  “Your safety is more important. You know I’ve never really agreed with them allowing you to run around D.C. by yourself, pursuing demons. It’s dangerous.”

  “I’ve been tagging since I was thirteen, Zayne. I’ve never had any problem—”

  “Until a few nights ago,” he interrupted, cheeks flushing with anger. It was so rare that Zayne ever lost his cool with me, but when he did, it was epic. “And it’s more than that. You’re young and pretty. Who knows what kind of attention you’re attracting out there.”

  Any other time I would have been thrilled to hear him say I was pretty, but right now, I wanted to take that word and shove it in his face. “I can take care of myself.”

  He looked at me dead-on. “What I’ve shown you will only get you so far.”

  Irritation and the need to prove I wasn’t some helpless dweeb provoked what I said next. “And I know how to finish someone off.”

  Zayne got what I was saying. A look of utter disbelief flickered across his face. “That’s the way you’d protect yourself? By taking someone’s soul? Nice.”

  Immediately, I realized my mistake. I came down a step. “I didn’t really mean it, Zayne. You know that.”

  He didn’t look too sure. “Whatever. I have things I need to do.”

  “Like Danika?” I said before I could stop myself.

  His eyes fell shut, and when they reopened, they were a sheltered, icy blue. “Real mature. Good night, Layla.”

  The hot rush of tears clouded my vision as I watched him leave. I was making a mess of everything without even trying. That took talent. I turned around and saw Petr standing just inside the sitting room. The smirk on his face told me that he’d heard our whole exchange—and enjoyed it.

  * * *

  I woke up, heart pounding and throat burning. The sheets twisted around my legs, chafing my skin. Rolling over, I stared at the neon-green light of the alarm clock.

  2:52 a.m.

  I needed something sweet.

  Throwing off the sheets, I stood. My nightgown clung to my damp skin. There wasn’t a single light on in the hallway outside my bedroom, but I knew the way by heart. There’d been so many nights when the craving unexpectedly hit hard, leading to dark and silent trips to the kitchen.

  I padded down the steps and through the shadowy rooms in a hurry. My legs were starting to feel wobbly, my heart rate spiking. I can’t live like this.

  My arm trembled as I pulled open the door to the fridge. Yellow light washed over my bare legs and the floor. I bent down, impatiently searching for the carton of orange juice among the bottles of water and milk. Annoyed and ready to kick something, I found the OJ behind the eggs.

  The carton slipped from my shaking fingers, crashing to the floor and spilling sticky juice all over my toes. Tears welled up and spilled down my cheeks. I was crying over spilled orange juice, for chrissake. It had to be one of my lamest moments of all time.

  Sitting next to the sticky puddle, I ignored the cold air from the fridge. God knows how long I sat there before I smacked the door shut. At once, the kitchen was pitched into darkness. I kind of liked it like that. It was just me being ridiculously stupid, and the darkness. No one could witness my hysterics.

  Then I heard the soft fluttering of wings, growing louder as they moved toward the kitchen. I stiffened, my very breath halting in my throat. The air stirred around me. I looked up, seeing yellow eyes and fangs surrounded by skin the color and texture of polished granite. The nose was flat, nostrils thin slits. Parting the cascade of dark hair were two horns that curved inward.

  Danika was just as striking in her true form as she was in her human.

  She dropped beside me, claws tapping on the tile floor as she walked over to the kitchen island and grabbed a roll of paper towels. “Need help?”

  It was strange seeing a six-foot gargoyle offer you paper towels.

  Danika stared down at me, her dark gray lips curving into a tentative smile.

  I hastily wiped my palms under my eyes and then took the wad of towels. “Thanks.”

  Danika tucked her wings in as she crouched, cleaning up most of the mess with one swipe. “Are you feeling unwell?”

  “I’m fine.” I picked up the carton. It was empty. Great.

  She balled the paper towels, her fingers long and elegant, but those claws could rip through skin, muscle, even metal. “It doesn’t seem like you’re fine,” she said carefully. “Zayne told me that sometimes you...get sick.”

  My head jerked up. A rush of hot betrayal swept through me. I couldn’t even form words.

  Danika’s face grew pinched. “He’s just concerned about you, Layla. He cares about you deeply.”

  I grabbed the soaked towels and empty carton, standing on shaky legs. “Oh.” I laughed harshly. “He does? That’s why he told you about my sickness?”

  She slowly straightened. “He only said something so that I could help in case you needed anything.” She backed up, seeing the look on my face. “Layla, I don’t judge you. In fact, I think you’re incredibly strong.”

  More tears, hotter than those that had already fallen, burned at the back of my throat. Why I was always eating something sweet was no secret, but only Zayne knew how badly I struggled—up until now. I couldn’t believe he’d told Danika. And asked her to keep an eye on me? Mortifying seemed like a weak word to describe how I felt.

  “Layla, do you need something else? I can go to the store and get some more juice.”

  I dumped the stuff in the garbage can, shoulders stiff. “I’m not going to jump on you and suck out your soul, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  Danika gasped. “That’s not what I meant—not at all. It’s just that you look like you need something and I want to help.”

  I whirled around. She still stood by the fridge, her wings unfurled, reaching at least four feet on either side of her. “I’m fine. You don’t have to keep an eye on me.” I turned away, but stopped at the door, drawing in a shallow breath. “Tell Zayne I said thanks.”

  Before Danika could respond, I left the kitchen and went back to my room. I crawled into bed, throwing the covers over my head. Every so often, a spasm ran through my muscles and my leg would jerk. Over and over again, the words ran through my head.

  I can’t live like this.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “Are you feeling okay today?” Stacey asked the moment she sat beside me in bio. “You look like warmed-over crap.”

  I didn’t even bother looking up. “Thanks, buddy.”

  “Well, I’m sorry, but it’s true. You look like you’ve been up all night crying.”

  “It’s allergies.” I shifted forward so my hair blocked most of my face. “You, on the other hand, sound awfully chipper this morning.”

  “I do, don’t I?” Stacey sighed dreamily. “Mom didn’t screw up my coffee like she always does. You know how I get when she does, which is almost every freaking morning, but today. No. Today was hazelnut day and my world is bright and shiny. Anyway, what did Zayne do?”

  “What?�
� I lifted my head, frowning.

  Her stare was sympathetic. “Zayne is the only person who makes you cry.”

  “I wasn’t crying.”

  She brushed her bangs back. “Whatever. You need to get over him and get with a hottie.” She paused, nodding at the door. “Like him, for example. He’d leave you crying for a whole different reason.”

  “I wasn’t crying over—” I cut myself off when I realized she was gesturing at Roth. “Wait, how would he make me cry?”

  Stacey’s eyes widened. “Are you for real? Do I need to spell it out for you?”

  I glanced back at Roth. Like Stacey, my classmates had stopped what they were doing to just watch him. There was a natural swagger to the way he walked. Suddenly I got what Stacey meant. Turning beet-red, I turned back to my book.

  She giggled.

  It was a lab day. We were partnered with Roth, much to Stacey’s delight. Surprisingly, he ignored me for most of the class and chatted with Stacey. She told him everything except her bra size, and I sincerely believed that if the bell hadn’t rung, she would have told him that, too.

  My craptastic mood followed me through the rest of the day. At lunch, I pushed my food around my plate while Stacey engaged Eva in an epic stare down.

  Sam poked me with his plastic fork. “Hey.”

  “Hmm?”

  “Did you know every northern state has a Springfield as a city?”

  I felt a grin tug at my lips. “No, I didn’t. Sometimes I wish I had half the memory you do.”

  His eyes twinkled behind his glasses. “How long do you think Stacey is going to give Eva the stink eye?”

  “I can hear you,” Stacey responded. “She’s been spreading some nasty rumors. I think I’m going to break into her house later and cut her hair off. Then maybe glue it to her face.”

  Sam grinned. “That’s kind of an odd form of retaliation.”

  “Yeah, that is weird.” I took a sip of my water.

  Stacey rolled her eyes. “If you heard the shit she’s been saying, you’d sign up for the face-gluing.”

  “Oh, is this about me putting out after one beer or being a servant in my own house?” I twisted the cap back on the water bottle, briefly considering chucking it at Eva’s face.

  Sam took his glasses off. “I hadn’t heard this.”

  “That’s because you don’t hear anything, Sam. Eva’s been saying some vicious stuff about Layla. I’m not down with that.”

  A fine shiver ran down my spine, cutting off my response. I looked to my left, shocked to find Roth standing there. This was the first time I’d seen him in the cafeteria. For some reason, I didn’t think he ate.

  Stacey didn’t even try to hide her surprise. “Roth! You came!”

  “What?” I felt as confused as Sam looked.

  Roth dropped down in the empty seat beside me, a smug grin on his face. “Stacey invited me to lunch during bio. Weren’t you paying attention?”

  I shot Stacey a disbelieving look. She just smiled. “How nice of you,” I said slowly.

  Sam’s gaze bounced between Stacey and me before settling on Roth. He stuck his hand out awkwardly. I wanted to knock it back. “I’m Sam. Nice to meet you.”

  Roth shook his hand. “You can call me Roth.”

  “Roth as in the retirement account?” asked Sam. “Is that what you’re named after?”

  Dark brows inched up Roth’s forehead as he stared at Sam.

  “Sorry.” Stacey sighed. “Sam has absolutely no social skills. I should’ve warned you.”

  Sam’s eyes narrowed on Stacey. “What? That’s what retirement accounts are called—Roth IRAs. How can you not know that?”

  “I’m in high school. Why would I care about retirement? Besides, who would know that but you?” Stacey shot back as she picked up a plastic fork, waving it in his face. “Next you’re going to wow us with your knowledge of plastic utensils and how they were created.”

  “I’m sorry if your lack of knowledge makes you uncomfortable.” Sam knocked the fork away, grinning. “It must be hard living with that tiny brain of yours.”

  Roth nudged me with his elbow. I nearly jumped out of my seat. “Are they always like this?”

  I considered ignoring him, but when I glanced at his face, I found I couldn’t look away. Seeing him in the school cafeteria was beyond unnerving. I figured he just came to bio and then disappeared. Was he actually attending all day?

  “Always,” I murmured.

  He smiled as his gaze dropped to the table. “So what were you guys talking about before retirement accounts and the creation of utensils?”

  “Nothing,” I said quickly.

  “Eva Hasher—the bitch over there.” Stacey gestured with her hand. “She’s been talking smack about Layla.”

  “Thanks.” I eyed the doors leading out of the cafeteria desperately.

  “I’ve heard,” Roth responded. “So you were planning some sort of revenge?”

  “Most definitely,” she answered.

  “Well, you could always—”

  “No.” I stopped him. “No revenge necessary, Roth.” I was pretty sure his ideas would buy me a one-way ticket to Hell.

  He flipped a lock of hair out of his face. It wasn’t spiked today, and I kind of liked it like that. It made his face softer. Not that I liked his hair or his face or anything about him. “That’s no fun.”

  Sam glanced at Roth, slipping his glasses back on. “You don’t know Stacey. The last time she plotted revenge, it included stealing a can of mace and a car.”

  Roth’s eyes widened. “Wow. Hard-core.”

  Stacey stretched in the chair, grinning from ear to ear. “What can I say? If I’m going to do bad, I’m going all out.”

  This seemed to excite the demon, which was hardly surprising. I jumped in before he could say anything. “So...what’s everyone doing this weekend?”

  Sam shrugged. “I was thinking about going to see a play at the old opera house. Since someone hasn’t scored me the interview of the century, I’m doing a piece on folk art instead. God help me.”

  I rubbed my forehead wearily. “Sorry. I told you not to hold your breath. The Wardens are pretty camera shy, as you might recall.”

  “Roth, did you know Layla was adopted by Wardens?” Stacey nudged me under the table. “Does that freak you out?”

  I wanted to smack her.

  “Freak me out?” Roth grinned. “No. I think it’s...epic.”

  Slowly, I looked at him. “Do you?”

  His grin turned into a damn near angelic smile. “Oh, yes. I admire the Wardens. Where would any of us be without them?”

  I almost laughed. It sounded so ridiculous coming from a demon. But even though I managed to choke back the laughter, my smile appeared before I could do anything about it. His eyes met mine again, but this time the cafeteria faded away. I knew the world was continued on around us, and I could hear Stacey and Sam bickering again, but it felt like it was just the two of us. A strange fluttering started in my chest, spreading through my body.

  He moved without me realizing, his warm breath dancing over my cheeks, my lips. The air hitched in my lungs. His lips parted, and I wondered what it would be like to run my fingers across them, to feel them.

  “What are you thinking?” he murmured, his eyes fluttering down.

  I snapped out of my haze, remembering who and what I was staring at. Thinking about him in a way I should never be considering. I was supposed to be angry with him about yesterday and the countless other things he’d done in the short time I’d known him.

  Feeling dizzy, I bit my lip and focused on what my friends were