hair, going about it methodically. Wrap. Squeeze. Wrap. Squeeze. When that was done, I realized I had no other reason to hide in the bathroom.
And that was what I was doing. Hiding. I didn’t know why, except it felt like my insides were bruised and frayed, too exposed. We were out—we were free for now. That alone was reason to celebrate, but we were far from in the clear. There was the unknown fate of Archer, where we would go from here, and an entire life I’d left behind in Petersburg—my mom, my school, my books…
I needed to leave the bathroom before Daemon thought I passed out or something.
Clutching the top of the towel, I went into the room. Daemon was at the window, his back straight like a sentry. He turned at the waist, his gaze moving from the top of my head to my feet. The light was on beside the bed, and it was dim, but when he looked at me like that, it felt like a spotlight had been turned on me. My toes curled into the carpet.
“Feel better?” he asked, not moving from the window.
I nodded. “Much better. There may be some hot water left.”
One side of his lips curved up. “Know what date it is?” I shook my head, and he gestured at the desk. “There’s one of the day calendars on it, the kind where you tear off the pages each day. If it’s up to date, it’s August eighteenth.”
“My God,” I whispered, deeply unsettled. “I’ve been gone…we’ve been gone for practically four months.”
He said nothing.
“I knew it had been awhile, but time was so strange there. I just didn’t think it was that long. Four months…”
“Feels like forever ago, huh?”
“Yes, it does.” I inched closer to the bed. “Four months. Mom probably thinks I’m dead.”
He turned back to the window, his shoulders tensed. Several moments passed before he spoke. “I got you some clean clothes. They’re in the bag. I think you’ll appreciate the shirt.”
“Thank you.”
“It’s no biggie, Kitten.”
I bit down on my lip. “Daemon…?” He turned to me, his eyes unnaturally bright. Two beautiful green eyes. “Thank you for everything. I wouldn’t be out of there if it—”
He was suddenly in front of me, clasping my cheeks. I sucked in a startled breath as he lowered his forehead to mine. “You do not need to thank me for any of this. You would’ve never been in this situation if it weren’t for me. And you don’t need to thank me for something I wanted and needed to do.”
“This wasn’t your fault,” I told him, meaning it. “You know that, right?”
He pressed a kiss to my forehead. “I’m going to clean up. There’s food in the bag, too, if you’re hungry. If not, you should try to get some rest.”
“Daemon—”
“I know, Kitten. I know.” He dropped his hands and gave me that cocky smile of his. “If anyone shows up while I’m in the shower, even Archer, you don’t let him in, okay?”
“I doubt a door would stop him.”
“That’s what the gun is for. I don’t think he’s going to screw us, but I’d rather be safe than sorry.”
He had a good point, but as I watched him grab a pair of sweats and then disappear into the fogged-over bathroom, I loathed the idea of picking up that gun again. I would if I had to. I just hoped I’d never have to again, which was silly because, more than likely, the violence of my recent everyday life was nowhere near over.
Picking up the bag, I brought it over to the bed. I sat down and started rummaging through it as the water kicked on in the bathroom. I looked up, my gaze falling to the closed door. A warm flush crept over my cheeks. Daemon was in the shower. Completely naked. I was in a towel. We were alone, for the first time in four months, in a shady motel room.
My stomach dipped.
The flush heated up, and I groaned in exasperation.
What was I doing even thinking about that kind of stuff right now? Over the course of the last couple of months, I’d heard Daemon in the shower a million times over. This wasn’t a romantic getaway at the Ritz, unless running for your lives counted as foreplay.
Shaking my head, I refocused on the bag. Inside I found a wide selection of sugary goodness, which caused me to blink back tears because I knew he’d bought that for me. God, he was considerate when I didn’t even know he was trying, when it mattered.
I pulled out the bottles of soda and got up, placing them with the chips and sugar on the desk. The tote bag brought a smile to my face. The shirt made the smile stretch in a way that felt unfamiliar, like it would crack my skin.
I glanced at the alien doll. “DB…”
Going back to the bed, I found flip-flops in the bag. Perfect. I never wanted to see those bloody shoes again. I reached the bottom of the bag, and my fingers brushed over a square box. I pulled out the last item.
Heat swept my face, and my eyes popped out. “Oh…oh, wow.”
The water shut off, and a second later Daemon came out with the sweats hanging low on his hips, and his skin was dewy, glistening. My eyes were fixated on his stomach and the drops of water running over the dips, disappearing under the band of the sweats. I was still only in a towel.
And I was holding a box of condoms in my hand.
My face was red as a ladybug.
One dark eyebrow went up.
My gaze fell to the box and then went back to him. “Confident, aren’t you?”
“I’d like to call it being prepared for any occasion.” He sauntered over to the bed in a way only Daemon could without looking like a complete douche. “Although, I am disappointed they don’t have little alien faces on them like everything else.”
I choked on my next breath. “What kind of motel sells condoms?”
“My favorite kind of motel?” He took the box from my boneless fingers. “You’ve spent this entire time looking at this instead of eating something, haven’t you?”
A laugh burst from me—a real, normal laugh.
Daemon’s eyes widened, and the hue flared. The box fell from his fingers, landing with a soft
The sound sent a shiver down my spine. “Do what?”
“Laugh.” He bent over me, the tips of his fingers grazing my cheeks. “I want to hear you laugh again.”
I wanted to laugh again for him, but all the humor had dried up under the raw intensity of his stare. Emotion swelled inside me like a balloon tethered by a fine string. I opened my mouth, but I didn’t know what to say. Muscles tensed throughout my body. My belly felt like a nest of butterflies was about to take flight. I raised a hand, placing it on his cheek. The slight stubble tickled my palm and caused my heart to jump. I slid my hand over the curve of his jaw and then down the cords of his neck to his shoulder. He jerked under my touch, and his chest rose sharply.
“Kat.” He breathed my name; he took it into himself, said it like it was some kind of prayer.
I couldn’t look away, and for a moment I was frozen, then I stretched up, placing my mouth against his. The slight touch sent a shock through my system. I moved my lips, familiarizing myself with the feel of him. Strange, but it was like we were kissing for the first time. My pulse was pounding, and my thoughts were in a heady, dizzy swirl.
He slipped a hand through my hair, his fingers curling along the back of my skull. The kiss deepened until his taste was everywhere, and there was nothing but us—only us. The rest of the world fell away. None of our problems vanished, but they were put on hold as my mouth opened for him. We kissed like we were famished for each other, and we were. Those kisses intoxicated me, and his fingers moved over my jaw and down my throat, delicately tracing a path. But my hands were greedy and rushed as they slipped over his chest, and I followed the lines of his hard stomach. The way my touch affected him was marveling to me. He made a throaty sound, and I melted.
He eased me back, positioning his body over mine and supporting his weight on one arm, but only our
