Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 54625 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 273(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 182(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54625 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 273(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 182(@300wpm)
“We really don’t have a choice,” I said, shrugging. Even if, secretly, I had to agree with him. My powers were making me too weak. But for just this one last mission, I could make it work. “I will just get a lot of rest beforehand,” I added to try to ease his nerves. “Once the wine is drugged, I can get right back out.”
It was the only option.
I could see him grudgingly coming to the same conclusion.
“For the record, I don’t like it.”
“For the record, I didn’t like chaining you up each night to get tortured,” I told him.
“I know you didn’t,” he said, sitting down next to me and rubbing a hand down my leg. “Full?” he asked when I put a half-eaten taco back down in the container.
“Yeah,” I said, leaning into him as another wave of exhaustion hit me.
“Why don’t you get some sleep? I will handle the poppies.”
“Will you lay with me?” I asked. “When you’re done,” I clarified.
To that, his face softened. And, oddly, his eyes turned a bit redder—like they did when we were intimate.
“Of course,” he said. “How about I lay with you until you fall asleep?”
Even better.
“Okay,” I agreed.
“Hold up. One second,” he said, jumping up off the bed to cross the room where the pile of bags from the store was located. “Got you a new blanket since your other one needs to be washed.”
The new one was just as soft and warm as the other but featured a darling little moon pattern which, I hoped, he picked out because of my lineage, not because it was the only option available.
“They didn’t have shadow girl blankets,” he told me as he flicked it over my body. “So moons and stars had to do.”
My heart squeezed at that as he climbed on the bed and slipped under the blanket with me.
His arm slid under my head, curling me into him, giving me his warmth.
One arm held me tight while the other started sliding up and down my back, through the damp strands of my hair.
My heart did that swelling thing again. Only this time, I recognized it for just what it was.
Not just warmth or affection.
No.
This was something deeper.
Something a lot like love.
Maybe it was foolish—to fall for anyone in such a life-or-death situation. It was certainly insane to fall for a demon. I mean, could an evil creature even feel love? Could he ever return the feelings that were building in me?
“Daemon?”
“Hmm?” he asked, the sound vibrating against my cheek.
“Can you tell me about… you? Your kind? Your friends? Anything.”
“Need me to bore you to sleep, huh, sweetness?” he asked, fingers gently rubbing my scalp. A shiver moved through me at the sensation. “Don’t go getting all shivery on me. You’re supposed to be sleeping,” he said, tone light.
“It just feels good,” I said, already feeling my eyelids getting heavy. “Talk to me.”
Then he started. At first, he just told me everyone’s names and some basic personality traits—Ace with his grandpa sweaters, Minos with his depressing playlists, Aram with his crush on Red, who had apparently run off a while ago and hadn’t been heard from since.
But it wasn’t long before he started to get more personal, explaining how much he hated his homeland, how ecstatic he was when Lenore opened a Hellmouth and he and his—less enthusiastic—brother got sucked through.
I was almost asleep when he finally started to talk about the things I wanted to know the most.
Claiming.
Apparently, it was what happened when a demon fell in love. And it made it impossible for them to go back to hell.
I had to admit, the idea of Daemon possibly having wings had all sorts of ideas drifting across my mind as I slipped off to sleep.
It was the cold that woke me up. I knew instantly that Daemon had not only left the bed, but a while before, judging by the chill in my bones.
The room was full of a strange earthy, almost smoky smell that had my nose wrinkling.
“You’re supposed to be sleeping,” Daemon’s voice said, making me turn to find him coming in from outside.
Where had he been?
Though, as if answering my question, he held up two cups of coffee and a brown bag of some sort of food.
“What time is it? How long have I been out?”
“Almost sunset. Nearly sixteen hours.”
“What?” I yelped, shooting up in bed, feeling my head immediately swim.
I wanted to say it was from the lack of food for so long, but I had a sneaking suspicion it had nothing to do with food and everything to do with whatever was wrong with me.
“You okay?” Daemon asked, head tipped to the side.
“Yeah. Just… confused,” I lied, holding gimme-hands out for the cup of coffee, hoping it would ward off the chill. And maybe give me the energy boost that even sixteen hours of sleep didn’t seem to accomplish.