I let out a heavy sigh, which catches both Stella and Emmie’s attention, but before they get a chance to ask me what’s wrong, their eyes lift to something behind me and they smile.
By the time Stella speaks, I know exactly what she’s going to say.
I feel it. The crackling electricity that has been between us whenever we’ve been in the same room—or forest—since Halloween.
My temperature spikes, and I have to clench my fists to stop my hands from shaking quite so violently.
“Daemon,” Stella sings happily. Hopping up, she rushes over and throws her arms around his shoulders.
I can’t help but laugh when I look around the side of my lounger to find him frozen with his arms at his sides.
“Ignore Stella, she’s already drunk,” Seb explains.
“I am not,” she argues. “I’m just happy you’re here.”
She releases Daemon, and I swear he breathes a sigh of relief as she takes a step back.
“Well,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck almost nervously, “I-I’m not sure I’ve ever had a welcome quite like that before.”
His stutter, although only small, makes my chest constrict. I bet no one else even caught it. It takes me right back to being inside his bedroom the weekend before last, when for just a short time, he let me see the real him. His insecurities, his fears, his true self. I just wish he’d trust me enough to do it again. Do it more.
“You guys don’t mind me crashing, right?” he asks, and I hate that there’s a part of him that truly expects someone to say yes and to send him away. “I brought pastries.” He holds up a bag before marching forward to put it on the table.
“We invited you. Of course you’re welcome,” Stella says, shaking her head as if she can’t even understand why he’d say it. But then, I guess she doesn’t. All she’s ever known is this aloof guy who’s happy living on the sidelines and doing his own thing.
I think it might only be me and Alex who seem to know just how much bullshit that is.
Daemon craves this. Craves this normalcy of hanging out with friends and forgetting about all the seriousness of his life. He just refuses to accept he deserves it, or that his friends really want him here.
“Come and grab a beer, Bro,” Alex says, holding out a bottle for him and nodding to the seat beside him. “It’s good for you to show your face,” he says quieter, once Daemon is beside him.
My breath catches at the potential meaning behind those words.
Lifting my drink, I take a massive gulp in the hope the vodka will help banish my nerves and the knot in my stomach. Probably wishful thinking, but it’s the only solution I have right now, so I’m going to have to stick with it.
It takes a good five minutes for Daemon to actually look at me, preferring to keep his eyes on his feet as he listens to everyone around us chatting or talking to Alex, but the second we connect, I feel it like a physical blow.
Danger flashes in his dark eyes as he holds mine. Wicked promises and a whole host of dirty things flicker through his mind so clearly that I can almost see them playing out.
A smirk curls at his lips as he reads my thoughts before his tongue sweeps across his bottom lip, making me burn up for him.
Ripping my eyes away from his, I down the rest of my drink before pushing from my lounger and heading inside to take a breath.
The second I step into the main tipi, my phone buzzes.
Daemon: I can still taste you…
I’m tapping out a reply before I’ve even thought it through.
Calli: Anyone would think you want to get caught.
Daemon: With my head between your thighs, any day of the week, Angel.
“Jesus,” I mutter.
“What’s wrong?” a deep voice booms from behind me, making me jump to the point of dropping my phone.
“N-nothing. I’m good,” I say fakely as I quickly grab my phone, which has of course landed screen-side up, and I turn to Nico with a smile plastered on my face.