Origin

I busted out laughing, and once I did I couldn’t stop. Tears tracked down my face while she watched, perplexed. “What?” she demanded.

“I’m sorry.” I wiped at my face with my fingers and plopped back down beside her. “It’s just that I’m positive Daemon would stroke out if he heard that.”

She scowled. “Daemon would stroke out if I showed interest in any kind.”

“Well, Archer is different,” I started slowly.

“Why? Because he’s older? He can’t be that much older, and besides, he’s obviously a good guy. He risked his life to help you guys. But there is something different that I’m picking up on from him. Probably it’s the whole military vibe.”

I figured it was time to drop the bomb. “Archer isn’t human, Dee.”

Her frown deepened. “So he’s a hybrid? Makes sense.”

“Uh, no. He’s, well, he’s something different. He’s what they call an origin—he’s a kid of a Luxen and a hybrid.”

After that sunk in, she shrugged. “So? I’m an alien. I’m not judgmental.”

I smiled at that, glad she was showing interest in a guy after Adam. “Well, there’s one more thing. I’d be careful of what you think around him.”

“Why?”

“The origins have some freaky abilities,” I explained, watching her eyes widen into saucers. “He can read your mind without you even knowing.”

Dee’s face went from pale to bright cherry. “Oh God.”

“What?”

She smacked her hands over her face. “Well, the whole time we were downstairs, I was so picturing him naked.”

…

After changing into an old terry-cloth tube dress that passed the show-no-scars test, I joined Dee and everyone downstairs. A massive dinner of extravagant levels followed, consisting of juicy fruits I didn’t even know existed, tangy and sweet meats, and a salad that filled the biggest bowl I’d ever seen. I ate more than I’d thought humanly possible, even some of the grilled meat off Daemon’s plate. Bethany had joined us, and she had hugged me the moment we crossed paths. Other than looking utterly worn out, she seemed fine, and her appetite rivaled my own.

Daemon nudged his plate over to me with his finger. “You’re going to eat Lyla out of house and home.”

Shrugging, I picked up another cube from his shish kebab and popped it into my mouth. “It’s been so long since I had food that wasn’t bland and served on a plastic tray.”

He winced, and I immediately regretted saying that. “I—”

“Eat as much as you want,” he said, glancing away. A muscle began to pulse in his jaw.

Then he piled more skewers on my plate, plus a handful of grapes and roasted pork loin, so much food that if I ate all of it, they’d have to roll me out of there. My gaze flicked away, meeting Dawson’s. He looked…he just looked sad.

I reached under the table and placed my hand on Daemon’s knee, giving it a squeeze. His head swiveled toward me, a deep brown curl falling across his forehead. I smiled for him, and it seemed to go a long way, because he relaxed once more.

And I ate as much food as I could stomach, knowing that it did something for Daemon. What it did exactly, I wasn’t sure, but by the end of the dinner, he was being his usual charming and douchey self.

Our group moved outside after dinner. Daemon stretched out his happy ass on one of the white-cushioned lounge chairs, and I sat by his legs. The talk was light, what everyone needed. Luc and Paris joined us, as did Archer. Even Ash and Andrew weren’t their normal antisocial selves.

Well, they really didn’t talk to me, but they chimed in whenever Daemon or Dawson or Matthew made a comment. I didn’t say much, mainly because I was busy paying attention to Bethany and Dawson.

They were just too adorable.

Sharing a chair, Beth sat in Dawson’s lap, her cheek nestled under his chin. He continuously moved his hand up and down her back. Every so often, he’d murmur something in her ear, and she’d smile or laugh quietly.

When I wasn’t watching them, I was keeping track of Dee.

Throughout the evening, she crept closer…and closer to where Archer sat chatting with Lyla. I was counting the minutes until Daemon noticed.

It took twenty.

“Dee,” he called out. “Why don’t you go get me a drink?”

His sister froze halfway between the patio table and the fire pit. Her luminous eyes narrowed. “What?”

“I’m thirsty. I think you should be a nice sister and get a drink for your poor brother.”

Twisting at my waist, I shot Daemon a dirty look. He raised his brows at me and folded his hands behind his head. I turned back to Dee. “Don’t you dare get him a drink.”

“Wasn’t planning on it,” she replied. “He’s got two legs.”

Daemon wasn’t deterred. “Then why don’t you come over here and spend time with me?”

I rolled my eyes.

“I don’t think there’s room for me on that lounge.” She folded her arms. “And as I much as I love you two, I don’t want to get that close.”

By that point, Daemon had successfully captured everyone’s attention. “I’ll make room for my sister,” he cajoled.

“Uh huh.” She spun around and stalked over to the patio. Pulling out a chair, she plopped down next to Archer and shoved out her hand. “I don’t think we’ve been officially introduced.”

Archer glanced down at her slender hand, then at Daemon for the tiniest second, and then he took her hand. “We haven’t.”

Six feet and a lot of inches of alien stiffened behind me. Oh dear.

“I’m Dee Black. I’m the sister of the douchebag known as Daemon.” She smiled brightly. “But you probably already know that.”

“That he’s a douchebag or that he’s your brother?” Archer asked innocently. “The answer is yes to both.”

I choked on my laugh.

Heat rolled off Daemon. “Am I also the brother who’s going to kick your ass if you don’t let go of my sister’s hand? The answer is yes to that, too.”

Dawson snickered from his chair.

I found myself smiling. Some things never changed. The overprotective side of Daemon was still an overbearing ass.

“Ignore him,” Dee said. “He has poor social skills.”

“I can vouch for that,” I threw out.

Daemon knocked his foot off my hip, and I glanced back at him. He winked and said in a low voice, “That is so not happening.”

Archer still hadn’t let go of Dee’s hand as he talked with her, and I wondered if he was doing that to goad Daemon or if he just wanted to hold her hand. Daemon opened his mouth to say something jerkish.

I grabbed his ankle. “Leave them alone.”

“No can do.”

Sliding my fingers under the hem of his jeans, I met his stare. “Please?”

His eyes narrowed into incandescent green slits.

“Pretty please?”

“Is there sugar on top?”

“Maybe.”

“There has to be, and there better be a lot of sugar.” He sat up fluidly and moved so that his knees were on either side of my hips. He wrapped his arms around my waist, resting his chin on my shoulder. I turned my cheek toward his. A shiver skated over my skin as his lips brushed my chin. “I needs lots of sugar,” he added. “What say you?”