Onyx (A Lux Novel)

by Jennifer L. Armentrout

  He was lounging in a cubicle beside an outdated computer, hands shoved into the pockets of his faded jeans. A wavy lock of hair covered his forehead, brushing against thick lashes. His lips curled into a half smile.

  “I was wondering if you were ever going to find me.” He made no move to clear up any space in the tiny 6x6 hole.

  I dropped my bag outside the walls and hopped up on the desk opposite him. “Embarrassed someone would see you and think you’re capable of reading?”

  “I do have a reputation to maintain.”

  “And what a lovely reputation that is.”

  He stretched out his legs so that his feet were under mine. “So what did you want to talk about”—his voice lowered to a deep, sexy whisper—“in private?”

  I shivered—and it had nothing to do with the temperature. “Not what you’re hoping.”

  Daemon gave me a sexy smirk.

  “Okay.” I gripped the edge of the desk. “How did you know I was sick in the middle of the night?”

  Daemon stared at me for a moment. “You don’t remember?”

  His eerie eyes were way too intense. I dropped my gaze…to his mouth. Wrong move. I stared at the map of Europe over his shoulder. Better. “No. Not really.”

  “Well, it was probably the fever. You were burning up.”

  My eyes snapped back to his. “You touched me?”

  “Yes, I touched you…and you weren’t wearing a lot of clothes.” The smug stretch of his lips spread. “And you were soaked…in a white T-shirt. Nice look. Very nice.”

  Heat crept over my cheeks. “The lake…it wasn’t a dream?”

  Daemon shook his head.

  “Oh my God, so I did go swimming in the lake?”

  He pushed off the desk and took one step forward, which put him in the same breathing space as me…if he actually needed to breathe. “You did. Not something I expected to see on a Monday night, but I’m not complaining. I saw a lot.”

  “Shut up,” I hissed.

  “Don’t be embarrassed.” He reached out, tugging on the sleeve of my cardigan. I smacked his hand away. “It’s not like I haven’t seen the upper part before, and I didn’t get a real good look down—”

  I came off the desk swinging. My knuckles only brushed his face before he caught my hand. Wowzers, he was fast. Daemon pulled me up against his chest and lowered his head, eyes snapping with restrained anger. “Don’t hit, Kitten. It’s not nice.”

  “You’re not nice.” I tried pulling back, but he kept my wrist secured in his hand. “Let me go.”

  “I’m not sure I can do that. I must protect myself.” But he dropped my hand.

  “Oh, really, that’s your reason for—for manhandling me?”

  “Manhandling?” He pressed forward until my lower back was against the cubicle desk. “This isn’t manhandling or whatever the hell that is.”

  Visions of me against the wall at my house and Daemon kissing me danced in my head like sugarplums. Parts of my body tingled. Oh, so not a good sign. “Daemon, someone is going to see us.”

  “So?” He gently picked up my hand. “Not like anyone is going to say a thing to me.”

  I drew in a deep breath. His scent was on my tongue. Our chests touched. Body said yes. Katy said no. I wasn’t affected by this. Not by how close we were or how his fingers were sliding under the sleeve of my cardigan. It wasn’t real. “So my trace has faded, but this stupid connection hasn’t?”

  “Nope.”

  Disappointed, I shook my head. “What does that mean, then?”

  “I don’t know.” His fingers were completely under my sleeve, smoothing up my forearm. His skin—it hummed like electricity. There was nothing like it.

  “Why do you keep touching me?” I asked, flustered.

  “I like to.”

  God, I liked it, too, and I shouldn’t. “Daemon…”

  “But back to the trace. You know what that means.”

  “That I don’t have to see your face outside of school?”

  He laughed, and it rumbled through me. “You’re no longer at risk.”

  Somehow, and I really haven’t a clue how, my free hand was against his chest. His heart beat was fast and strong. So did mine. “I think the not-seeing-your-face part outweighs the safe part.”

  “Keep telling yourself that.” His chin brushed my hair and then slid over my cheek. I shivered. A spark passed from his skin to mine, humming in the charged air around us. “If that makes you feel better, but we both know it’s a lie.”

  “It’s not a lie.” I tipped my head back. His breath was a warm stroke against my lips.

  “We’re still going to be seeing each other,” he murmured. “And don’t even lie. I know that makes you happy. You told me you wanted me.”

  Hold your horses. “When?”

  “At the lake.” He slanted his head, and I should’ve pulled back. His lips curved knowingly against mine, and he let go of my wrist. “You said you wanted me.”

  Both of my hands were on his chest. They had a mind of their own. I claimed no responsibility for them. “I had a fever. Lost my mind.”

  “Whatever, Kitten.” Daemon gripped my hips, lifting me onto the edge of the desk with an ease that was disturbing. “I know better.”

  My breath was coming in short gasps. “You don’t know anything.”

  “Uh huh. You know, I was worried about you,” he admitted, moving forward, easing my legs apart. “You kept calling out my name, and I kept answering, but it was like you couldn’t hear me.”

  What were we talking about? My hands were on his lower stomach. His muscles were hard underneath the sweater. I slid my hands to his sides, totally meaning to push him away. Instead, I gripped and pulled him forward. “Wow, I must’ve been really out of it.”

  “It…scared me.”

  Before I could respond or even give thought to the fact that my sickness actually scared him, our lips met. My brain clicked off as my fingers dug through his sweater, and…and oh, God, his kisses were deep, scorching my lips as his hands tightened on my waist, pulling me against him.

  Daemon kissed like he was a man starving for water, taking long, breathless drafts. His teeth caught my lower lip when he pulled away, only to come back for more. A heady mix of emotions warred inside me. I didn’t want this, because it was just the connection between us. I kept telling myself that, even as I slid my hands up his chest and circled them around his neck. When his hands inched under my shirt, it was as though he reached deep inside me, warming every cell, filling every dark space within me with the heat from his skin.

  Touching him, kissing him, was like having a fever all over again. I was on fire. My body burned. The world burned. Sparks flew. Against his mouth, I moaned.

  There was a POP! and CRACK!

  The smell of burned plastic filled the cubicle. We pulled apart, breathing heavily. Over his shoulder I saw thin strips of smoke wafting from the top of the ancient monitor. Good God, was this going to happen every time we kissed?

  And what in the hell was I doing? I’d decided I wasn’t going to let this happen with Daemon, which meant no kissing…or touching. The way he’d treated me when we first met still stung. The pain and embarrassment lingered in me.

  I pushed him. Hard. Daemon let go, staring at me like I’d kicked his puppy into traffic. Looking away, I wiped the back of my hand over my mouth. It didn’t work. Everything about him was still around me, in me. “God, I don’t even like this—kissing you.”

  Daemon straightened, coming to his full height. “I beg to differ. And I think this computer tells a different story, too.”

  I shot him a dirty look. “That—that will never happen again.”

  “And I think you’ve said that before,” he reminded me. When he saw my expression, he sighed. “Kat, you enjoyed that—just as much as I did. Why lie?”

  “Because it’s not real,” I said. “You didn’t want me before.”

  “I did—”

  “Don’t you dare say
you wanted me, because you treated me like I was the Antichrist! You can’t just undo that because there’s a stupid connection between us.” I sucked in a sharp breath as an icky feeling spread through my chest. “You really hurt me then. I don’t think you even know. You humiliated me in front of an entire lunch room!”

  Daemon looked away, dragging his fingers through his hair. A muscle popped out in his jaw. “I know. I’m…I’m sorry for how I treated you, Kat.”

  Shocked, I stared at him. Daemon never apologized. Like, ever. Maybe he really… I shook my head. His apology wasn’t enough. “Even now, we’re all the way hidden in the library, as if you don’t want people to know you made a mistake that day and acted like a dick. And I’m supposed to be okay with that now?”

  His eyes widened. “Kat—”

  “I’m not saying we can’t be friends, because I want to. I do like you a lo—” I cut myself off before I said too much. “Look, this didn’t happen. I’m going to blame aftereffects of the flu or that a zombie ate my brain.”

  His brows furrowed. “What?”

  “I don’t want this with you.” I started to turn, but he caught my arm. I glared at him. “Daemon…”

  He looked at me straight on. “You’re a terrible liar. You do want this. Just as badly as I do.”

  My mouth opened, but no words came out.

  “You want this as badly as you want to go to ALA this winter.”

  Now my jaw was on the floor. “You don’t even know what ALA is!”

  “The American Library Association midwinter event,” he said, grinning proudly. “Saw you obsessing over it on your blog before you got sick. I’m pretty sure you said you’d give up your firstborn child to go.”

  Yeah, I kind of did say that.

  Daemon’s eyes flashed. “Anyway, back to the whole you-wanting-me part.”

  I shook my head, dumbfounded.

  “You do want me.”

  Taking a deep breath, I struggled with my temper…and my amusement. “You are way too confident.”

  “I’m confident enough to wager a bet.”

  “You can’t be serious.”

  He grinned. “I bet that by New Year’s Day, you will have admitted that you’re madly, deeply, and irrevocably—”

  “Wow. Want to throw another adverb out there?” My cheeks were burning.

  “How about irresistibly?”

  I rolled my eyes and muttered, “I’m surprised you know what an adverb is.”

  “Stop distracting me, Kitten. Back to my bet—by New Year’s Day, you’ll have admitted that you’re madly, deeply, irrevocably, and irresistibly in love with me.”

  Stunned, I choked on my laugh.

  “And you dream about me.” He released my arm and folded his across his chest, cocking an eyebrow. “I bet you’ll admit that. Probably even show me your notebook with my name circled in hearts—”

  “Oh, for the love of God…”

  Daemon winked. “It’s on.”

  Spinning around, I grabbed my backpack and hurried through the stacks, leaving Daemon in the cubicle before I did something insane. Like throw common sense aside and run back to tackle him, pretending that everything he’d done and said all those months ago hadn’t left a raw mark on my heart. Because I’d be pretending, right?

  I didn’t slow until I was standing in front of my locker on the other side of the school. I reached inside my backpack and pulled out my binder full of art crap. What a hell of a day back. I’d dazed out in half of my classes, made out with Daemon, and blew up another computer. Seriously. I should’ve stayed home.

  I reached for the handle on my locker. Before my fingers could touch it, the locker swung open. Gasping, I jumped back, and my art binder fell to the floor.

  Oh my God, what just happened?

  It couldn’t be… My heart rate went into cardiac arrest territory.

  Daemon? He could manipulate objects. Opening a locker door with his mind would be a piece of cake for him, considering he could uproot trees. I looked around the thinning crowds, but I already knew he wasn’t there. I hadn’t felt him through our creepy alien bond. I backed away from the locker.

  “Whoa, watch where you’re going,” a teasing voice intruded.

  Sucking in a sharp gasp, I whipped around. Simon Cutters stood behind me, clenching a ragged backpack in his meaty fist.

  “Sorry,” I croaked, glancing back at the locker. Had he seen that happen? I knelt to pick up my artwork, but he beat me to it. Epic awkwardness ensued as we tried to pick up the papers without touching each other.

  Simon handed me a stack of craptastic drawings of flowers. I had no artistic talent. “Here you go.”

  “Thanks.” I stood, shoving my binder into the locker, ready to flee.

  “Wait a sec.” He grabbed my arm. “I wanted to talk to you.”

  My eyes dropped to his hand. He had five seconds before my pointy-toed shoe ended up between his legs.

  He seemed to sense this, because he dropped his hand and flushed. “I just want to apologize for everything that happened homecoming night. I was drunk and I…I do stupid things when I’m drunk.”

  I glared at him. “Then maybe you should stop drinking.”

  “Yeah, maybe I should.” He ran his hand over his closely cropped hair. Light reflected off the blue and gold watch around his thick wrist. Something was engraved on the band, but I couldn’t make it out. “Anyway, I just didn’t—”

  “Yo, Simon, what are you doing?” Billy Crump, a beady-eyed football player who only seemed to notice my boobs when he looked in my direction, sidled up next to Simon. He was closely followed by a rabid pack of teammates. Billy grinned as his gaze zeroed in on me. “Hey…what do we have here?”

  Simon opened his mouth, but one of the guys beat him to it. “Let me guess. She’s trying to get on your jock again?”

  Several guys chuckled and elbowed one another.

  I blinked at Simon. “Excuse me?”

  The tips of Simon’s cheeks turned ruddy as Billy lurched forward, dropping his arm over my shoulder. The scent of his cologne nearly knocked me out. “Look, babe, Simon ain’t interested in you.”

  One of the guys laughed. “Like my mama always said, why buy the cow when the milk’s for free?”

  A slow rush of fury inched through my veins. What the hell was Simon telling these douchebags? I shrugged out from underneath Billy’s arm. “This milk isn’t for free and wasn’t even for sale.”

  “That’s not what we hear.” Billy fist-pumped a red-faced Simon. “Isn’t that right, Cutters?”

  All of Simon’s friends’ eyes were on him. He choked out a laugh and stepped back, swinging his backpack over his shoulder. “Yeah, man, but not interested in a second glass. I was trying to tell her that, but she wouldn’t listen.”

  My mouth dropped. “You lying son of a—”

  “What’s going on down there?” Coach Vincent called from the end of the hallway. “Shouldn’t you boys be in class by now?”

  Laughing, the guys broke apart and headed down the hall. One of them spun around, motioning a “call me” hand signal while another made a rather obscene gesture with his mouth and hand.

  I wanted to slam my fist into something. But Simon wasn’t my biggest problem. I faced my locker again, wincing as my stomach dropped to my toes. It had opened by itself.

  Chapter 4

  Mom was gone, already having started her shift in Winchester earlier that day. I’d been hoping she’d be home so I could chat with her for a little while and forget about the whole locker incident, but I’d forgotten it was Wednesday—also known as Fend For Yourself Day.

  A dull ache had taken up residency behind my eyes, like I strained something, but I wasn’t sure if that were possible. It had started after the whole locker incident and didn’t show signs of stopping.

  I threw a load of clothes into the dryer before realizing there were no dryer sheets. Fail. Going to the linen closet, I rummaged around, hoping to find something. Giving up
, I decided that the only thing that was going to make today better was the sweet tea I’d seen in the fridge that morning.

  Glass shattered.

  I jumped at the sound and then hurried to the kitchen, thinking someone had broken the window from outside, but it wasn’t like we had a lot of visitors out here unless it was a Department Of Defense officer bum rushing the house. At that thought, my heart tripped up a little as my gaze went to the counter below an opened cupboard. One of the tall, frosted glasses was in three large pieces on the counter.

  Drip. Drip. Drip.

  Frowning, I looked around, unable to figure out the source of the noise. Broken glass and water dripping… Then it struck me. My pulse sped up as I opened up the fridge.

  The jug of tea was on its side. Lid off. Brown liquid ran across the shelf, spilling down the sides. I glanced at the counter. I’d wanted tea, which requires a glass and, well, tea.

  “No way,” I whispered, backing up. There was no way the act of wanting tea had somehow caused this.

  But what other explanation could there be? It wasn’t like there was an alien hiding under the table, moving crap around for fun.

  I checked just to be sure.

  This was the second time in one day that something had moved on its own. Two coincidences?

  Numb inside, I grabbed a towel and cleaned up the mess. The whole time I was thinking about the locker door. It had opened before I reached it. But it couldn’t be me. Aliens had the power to do that kind of stuff. I didn’t. Maybe there had been a minor earthquake or something—a minor earthquake that only targeted glasses and tea? Doubtful.

  Weirded out to the max, I grabbed a book off the back of the couch and sprawled out. I needed a serious distraction.

  Mom hated that there were books everywhere. They weren’t really everywhere. Just wherever I was, like the couch, recliner, kitchen counters, laundry room, and even the bathroom. It wouldn’t be like that if she caved and installed a wall-to-ceiling bookcase.

  But no matter how I tried to get into the book I was reading, it wasn’t working. Half of it was the book. It had insta-love, the bane of my existence. Girl sees boy and falls in love. Immediately. Soul mate, breath stealing, toes curling, love after one conversation. Boy pushes girl away for some paranormal reason or another. Girl still loves boy. Boy finally admits love.