Onyx (Page 78)

I looked up, tensing when I saw Blake. “Hey…you weren’t in bio.”

“I came in late today,” he said, leaning against the locker beside me. “I’m not going to be able to do any practice tonight or during Christmas break. I’m visiting some family with my uncle.”

Sweet relief flooded my system, leaving me dizzy. After last night, I wasn’t sure I wanted to continue training with Blake, despite my need to be able to defend myself. Now just wasn’t the time to talk about any of that. “That’s okay. I hope you have fun.” There was a distant, closed-off look in his eyes as he nodded. I cleared my throat. “Well, I’m going to get going. See you when—”

“Wait.” He stepped closer. “I wanted to talk to you about last night.”

I closed my locker door when I wanted to slam it shut. “What about it?”

“I know you’re pissed.”

“Yeah, I am.” I faced him. Could he really not understand why I was mad? “You risked my life last night. What if I didn’t use the Source? I’d be dead now.”

“I wouldn’t have let him hurt you.” Sincerity filled his words and eyes. “You were safe.”

“The bruises up and down the side of my body are telling me I got hurt.”

He blew out an exasperated breath. “I still don’t get why you’re not happier about this. The power you showed—it’s amazing.”

I shifted the bag off my bruised backside. “Look, can we talk about training when you get back?”

He looked like he wanted to argue, because those green flecks in his eyes deepened and churned, but he turned his cheek and let out a harsh breath. I wanted to be out of this school, to be home in my bed, and to be away from him. Away from this boy I’d once believed was normal, once believed wanted to help me because we were alike, and now I wasn’t sure if he really cared if I survived any of his training techniques at all.

…

Changing into a pair of loose sweats and a thermal when I got home, the first thing I did after that was take a nap, and I slept most of the evening away. Mom was gone when I got up, and I scrounged together a sandwich and then gathered all the books I’d gotten in the last month.

I stacked them beside my laptop and was in the process of getting my webcam to not zoom up my nose when I felt the familiar tingles like a warm breath on the back of my neck. I glanced at the clock. It wasn’t even ten o’clock yet.

Sighing, I got up and went to the front door, opening it before Daemon could knock. He stood there, his hand raised in midair. “I’m really beginning to dislike the fact that you know when I’m coming,” he said, frowning.

“I thought you loved it. It enables you to be such a great stalker.”

“I’ve already told you. I don’t stalk you.” He followed me into the living room. “I use it to keep an eye on you.”

“There’s a difference?” I sat on the couch.

Daemon sat right beside me, his thigh pressing against mine. “There is a difference.”

“Sometimes your logic scares me.” I wished I’d changed into something else. He was just in jeans and a sweater, but he looked good. And my thermal had little strawberries on it. Embarrassing. “So what are you doing over here so early?”

Leaning back against the cushions, he was even closer than before, smelling of a crisp autumn morning. Why, oh why, did he have to always get so close? “Bill didn’t come by tonight?”

I tucked my hair back behind my ear, ignoring the mad rush of the desire to climb into his arms. “No. He had something to do with family.”

His eyes narrowed on the laptop. “What are you doing? Making another one of those videos?”

“I was planning to. I haven’t done one in a while, but then you showed up. Plan ruined.”

He grinned. “You still can film one. I promise I’ll behave.”

“Yeah, not going to happen.”

“Why not?” He raised his hand, and the book on the top of the pile shot toward him. “Hey, I have an idea. I could pretend to be him.”

“What?” I frowned as he showed me the blond guy on the cover. “Wait. You don’t mean—”

Daemon shimmered out, and in his place was the exact replica of the cover model, right down to the curly lock of blond hair, baby blue eyes, and brooding stare. Wow, such a pretty boy. “Hello there…”

“Oh my God.” I poked his golden cheek. Real. I laughed. “You can’t do that. People would freak.”

“But it would definitely get a lot of attention.” He winked. “It would be fun.”

“But this cover model”—I took the book from him and waved it around—“is a real person somewhere. He’d probably be curious how he ended up in my In My Mailbox video.”

His full lips pouted. “You do have a point.” The cover model faded out, and Daemon reappeared. “But don’t let that stop you. Go ahead and film. I’ll be like your assistant.”

Trying to determine if he was being serious or not, I stared at him. “I don’t know about this.”

“I’ll be completely quiet. I’ll just hold books for you.”

“I don’t think you have the ability to be completely quiet. Ever.”

“I promise,” he said, grinning.

This would probably end up disastrous, but the idea of him being in the video had me all giddy and amused. I adjusted the webcam so he was included in the picture and pressed record.