Opal

Chapter 5

Color me surprised when Daemon swung by early Saturday evening and wanted to go out. Like, brave snow-slick roads and do something normal. A date. As if we had the luxury of doing such a thing. And I couldn’t help but remember what he had said to me when I’d been in his bed and so ready to give him the go-ahead.

He’d wanted to do things right. Dates. Movies.

Dee was currently on Dawson-babysitting duty, and Daemon felt confident enough to leave her with him.

I dug out a pair of dark denim jeans and a red turtleneck. Taking a few extra minutes with my makeup, I then bounced down the stairs. It took me about a half an hour to weasel Daemon away from my mom.

Maybe I wouldn’t have to worry about her and Will. Maybe I needed to worry about her and Daemon. Cougar.

Once inside the comfy interior of Dolly, his SUV, he kicked on the heat and slid me a grin. “Okay. There are some rules about our date.”

My brows rose. “There are?”

“Yep.” He eased Dolly around and started down the driveway, careful to avoid the thick patches of black ice. “Rule number one is we don’t talk about anything DOD related.”

“Okay.” I bit down on my lip.

He glanced at me sideways, as if he knew I was fighting a stupid love-struck grin. “Rule number two is that we don’t talk about Dawson or Will. And number three, we focus on my awesomeness.”

Okay. No fighting my grin. It spread ear to ear. “I think I can deal with these rules.”

“You better, because there is punishment for breaking the rules.”

“And what kind of punishment would that be?”

He chuckled. “Probably the sort of punishment you’d enjoy.”

Warmth infused my cheeks and veins. I chose not to respond to that statement. Instead, I reached for the radio station at the same time Daemon did. Our fingers brushed and static raced down my arm, spreading to his flesh. I jerked back, and he laughed again, but the sound was husky and made the roomy SUV seem way too small.

Daemon settled on a rock station but kept the volume low. The trip to town was uneventful but fun…because nothing crazy happened. He picked out an Italian restaurant, and we were seated at a small table lit by flickering candles. I glanced around. None of the other tables had candles. They were covered with cheesy red-and-white-checkered mats.

But our wooden table was bare except for those candles and two wineglasses filled with water. Even the napkins looked like real linen.

Considering the possibilities as we were seated, my heart did a flip-flop. “Did you…?”

He propped his elbows on the table and leaned forward. Soft shadows danced over his face, highlighting the arch of his cheekbones and the curve of his lips. “Did I do what?”

“Arrange this?” I waved at the candles.

Daemon shrugged. “Maybe…”

I tucked my hair back, smiling. “Thank you. It’s very…”

“Awesome?”

I laughed. “Romantic—it’s very romantic. And awesome, too.”

“As long as you think it is awesome, then it was worth it.” He glanced up as the waitress arrived at our table. Her nametag read Rhonda.

When she turned to take Daemon’s order, her eyes glazed over—a common side effect of being around Mr. Awesome, I was learning. “And what about you, sweetie?”

“Spaghetti with meat sauce,” I said, closing the menu and handing it over.

Rhonda glanced at Daemon, and I think she might have sighed. “I’ll bring your breadsticks out immediately.”

After we were alone, I grinned at my date. “I think we’re going to get extra meatballs.”

He laughed. “Hey, I’m good for some things.”

“You’re good for a lot of things.” The moment that left my mouth, I blushed. Whoa. That could be perceived in many ways.

Surprisingly, Daemon let it slide and started teasing me about a book he’d seen in my bedroom. It was a romance novel. Typical barrel-chested alpha male cover model with sixteen-pack abs. By the time our heaping pile of breadsticks arrived, I’d almost convinced him that he’d be a perfect cover model for one of those books.

“I don’t wear leather pants,” he said, biting into the garlicky and buttery goodness.

And that was a damn shame. “Still. You have the look.”

He rolled his eyes. “You just like me for my body. Admit it.”

“Well, yeah…”

His lashes lifted and his eyes glittered like jewels. “I feel like man-candy.”

I busted out laughing. But then he asked a question I hadn’t expected. “What are you going to do about college?”

I blinked. College? Sitting back, my gaze dropped to the small flame. “I don’t know. I mean, it’s not really possible unless I go to one near a buttload of quartz—”

“You just broke a rule,” he reminded me, lips forming a half smile.

I rolled my eyes. “What about you? What are you doing for college?”

He shrugged. “Haven’t decided yet.”

“You’re running out of time,” I said, sounding like Carissa, who loved to remind me of that every time we talked.

“Actually, we’ve both run out of time, unless we do a late acceptance.”

“Okay. Rule-breaking aside, how is it possible? Do online classes?” He shrugged again, and I sort of wanted to stab him in the eye with my fork. “Unless you know of a college that has…a suitable environment?”

Our meals arrived, staving off the conversation while the waitress grated cheese over Daemon’s plate. She eventually offered me some. And the moment she left, I pounced. “So, do you?”

Knife and fork in hand, he started cutting into a piece of lasagna the size of a truck. “The Flatirons.”

“The what-a-what?”

“The Flatirons is a mountain just outside of Boulder, Colorado.” He cut his meal into tiny bites. Daemon had such delicate eating habits, while I was slopping my spaghetti around my plate. “They are full of quartzite. Not as well-known or as visible as some places, but they are there, under several feet of sediment.”

“Okay.” I tried to eat my spaghetti in daintier bites. “What does that have to do with anything?”

He peered up through sooty lashes. “University of Colorado is about two miles from the Flatirons.”

“Oh.” I chewed slowly and then suddenly my appetite vanished. “Is…is that where you want to go to school?”

There was another shrug. “Colorado isn’t a bad place. I think you’d like it.”

Staring at him, I forgot about the food. Was he getting at what I thought he was getting at? I didn’t want to jump to conclusions, and I was too afraid to ask, because he could be suggesting that it was a place I’d like to visit versus living there…with him. And that would be super mortifying.

Hands cold, I set down my fork. What if Daemon did leave? For some reason I’d been operating on the assumption that he wouldn’t leave here. Ever. And I’d accepted, on a subconscious level, being stuck here, mainly because I really hadn’t considered finding another place that was protected from the Arum.

My gaze dropped to my plate. Had I accepted staying here because of Daemon? Was that right? He’s never said he loves you, an insidious and annoying voice whispered. Not even after you’ve said it.

Ah, the stupid voice had a point.

Out of nowhere, a breadstick tapped the tip of my nose. My head jerked up. Sprinkles of garlic salt rained down.

Daemon held the stick between two fingers, brows arched. “What were you just thinking about?”

I brushed off the crumbs. A pitching sensation filled my stomach, and I forced a smile. “I…I think Colorado sounds nice.”

Liar, said his expression, but he went back to his food. Strained silence descended between us, which was a first. I forced myself to enjoy the food, and the funniest thing happened. With Daemon’s light teasing and the conversation turning to different subjects, like his obsession with all things ghost-related, I was having fun again.

“Do you believe in ghosts?” I asked, chasing after the last of my noodles.

He cleared his plate, sat back, and sipped from his glass. “I think they exist.”

Surprise flickered through me. “Really? Huh. I thought you just watched those ghost shows for entertainment.”

“Well, I do. I like the one where the guy yells, ‘Dude! Bro!’ every five seconds.” He smiled when I laughed. “But in all seriousness, it can’t be impossible. Too many people have witnessed things that can’t be explained.”

“Like too many people witnessing aliens and UFOs.” I grinned.

“Exactly.” He set down his glass. “Except the UFOs are total bunk. Government’s responsible for all Unidentified Flying Objects.”

My mouth dropped open. Why was I even surprised?

Rhonda appeared with our check, and I was reluctant to leave. The whole date thing was a way too brief moment of normalcy both of us had been sorely lacking. As we headed to the front of the restaurant, I wanted to grab his hand and wrap my fingers around his, but I refrained. Daemon did a lot of crazy things in public, but hand-holding?

So didn’t seem up his alley.

There were a couple of kids from school seated by the door. Their eyes got all saucer-sized when they saw us. Considering Daemon and I had this hate-hate relationship for most of the year, I could understand their surprise.

It had started to flurry while we were inside and a thin coating of snow covered the parking lot and cars. The white stuff was still coming down. Stopping by the passenger side, I tipped my head back and opened my mouth, catching a tiny flake on the tip of my tongue.

Daemon’s eyes narrowed on me and the intensity in his gaze caused a nervous fluttering low in my stomach. An urge to go forward, cross the distance between us, hit me hard, but I couldn’t move. My feet were rooted to the ground and the air expelled from my lungs.

“What?” I whispered.

His lips parted. “I was thinking about a movie.”

“Okay.” I felt hot even though it snowed. “And?”

“But you’ve broken the rules, Kitten. Several times. You’re owed some punishment.”

My heart jumped. “I am a rule breaker.”

His lips tilted up on one corner. “You are.”

Moving lightning fast, Daemon was in front of me before I could say another word, cupping my cheeks, tilting my head back as he lowered his. Lips brushed against mine, sending a shiver down my spine. The initial touch was feather soft, heartbreakingly tender. Then the contact evolved with the second sweep of his lips and mine parted, welcoming him.

I really liked this form of punishment.

Daemon’s hands slid down to my hips, and he pulled me against him at the same time we were moving backward, stopping when my back pressed against the cool, damp metal of his car—hopefully his car. I doubted someone would want a couple doing what we were doing on their vehicle.

Because we were kissing, really kissing, and there wasn’t a centimeter of space between our bodies. My arms found their way around his neck, fingers sliding through silky locks covered in light snow. We fit everywhere it was important.

“Movie?” he murmured, kissing me again. “And then what, Kitten?”

I couldn’t think around how he tasted and felt. How my heart was jackhammering as his fingers slid under my turtleneck, splaying along my bare skin. And I wanted to be bare—completely and only with him, always him. He knew what the “and then what” was. Doing things right…and dear God, I wanted to do those right things right now.

Since I couldn’t get my mouth to work between his drugging kisses, I opted to do the show-not-tell thing, sliding my hands down to his jean-clad hips. Hooking my fingers in the belt hoop, I tugged him against me.

Daemon growled, and my pulse pounded. Yeah, he got it. His hand slid up, fingertips brushing against lace and—

His cell phone went off in his pocket, shrilling as loud as a fire alarm. I thought for a tiny instant he was going to ignore it, but he pulled back, panting. “One second.”

He kissed me quickly, keeping one hand where it was while he dug out his phone. I burrowed my face against his chest, breathing rapidly. He left my senses spinning in a delicious mess that was out of control.

When Daemon spoke, his voice was rough. “This better be really important—”

I felt him stiffen, his heart rate picking up, and I knew instantly something bad had happened. Pulling back, I peered up at him. “What?”

“Okay,” he said into the phone, his pupils becoming luminous. “Don’t worry, Dee. I’ll take care of it. I promise.”

Fear cooled the heat inside me. As Daemon lowered the phone, sliding it back into his pocket, my stomach dropped. “What?” I asked again.

Every single muscle in his body locked up. “It’s Dawson. He made a run for it.”