Shadows (21 page)

Daemon started toward his sister, but found his legs just wouldn’t keep going. He stopped, bending at the waist as a wave of pain that felt so real slammed into his gut. Not his brother. He couldn’t really comprehend what just happened. You don’t wake up and everything is normal only to have your entire life destroyed in seconds.

“Please, no,” Dee whispered. “No, no, no.”

He knew he needed to pull it together for his sister, but a cyclone was building inside him. All he could think about was the day in the kitchen. Him hugging Dawson—that couldn’t have been the last time he would hug him. No—no way.

Daemon racked his brain. When was the last time he’d seen Dawson? Yesterday? He was eating a bowl of cereal. Froot Loops. Laughing. Happy.

Last time
took on a whole new meaning.

Lifting his gaze, he saw Dee was blurred. Either she was losing hold on herself or he was. Had he ever cried before? He couldn’t remember.

She seemed to wobble, and he shot toward her, catching her before she fell, but then they both hit the floor, holding each other. Daemon turned his head to the ceiling, letting out an unearthly roar that surely broke the sound barrier, shaking the house again. Windows rattled and then blew out this time. The tinkling sound of glass falling cut through the wake like distant applause.

And then there were Dee’s sobs. Heart-rending sobs racked her slender body and shook him. The sound broke his heart. She kept flipping in and out of her natural form, falling apart in his arms.

Dawson
wasn’t
coming back. His brother
wasn’t
going to walk through that door ever again. There’d be no more
Ghost Investigator
marathons. No more teasing fights with Dee over who ate the last of the ice cream. And there
weren’t
going to be any more arguments over the human girl.

The human girl…

Dawson had lit her up like a beacon—that had led the Arum straight to Dawson. That was the only explanation. The Rocks still protected them in Moorefield. The Arum had to have seen Bethany…

Never in his life had he hated humans more than he hated them right then.

Sorrow and rage rippled through him as his light burned reddish-white. Dee’s tears poured through the bond, her whispered denials kept coming, and God, he would’ve given his own life at that moment to take away her pain and loss.

And to change some of the last things he’d said to his brother.
You’re going to get that girl killed.
Why hadn’t he said he loved him? No. Instead he’d said
that
. Misery cleaved his soul, sinking in deep like a hot, serrated knife.

His head fell to his sister’s shoulder, and he squeezed his eyes shut. Tears still seeped through, scalding hot against his now-glowing cheeks. Light flickered all around the living room, casting strange shadows of the two forms huddled on the floor together.

Dawson was dead because of him—because he hadn’t warned his brother enough, hadn’t stopped the relationship before it got out of hand. He was dead because of a human girl. And it was Daemon’s fault. He hadn’t done enough to stop him.

He held his sister tighter—the last of his family—and swore never again. Never again would he let a human put his family in harm’s way. Never again.

Daemon wouldn’t lose his sister, no matter
what
he had to do to keep her safe.

First off, I want to thank the wonderful team at Entangled Teen. Special thanks to Liz Pelletier and her mad editing skills. Thank you to Kevan Lyon for always being a fantastic agent. A huge thanks to my crit/beta partners: Lesa, Julie, Carissa, and Cindy. You guys are the fantastic four of awesomeness. I couldn’t do any of this without my family and friends for being supportive.

Also, a big thanks to Pepe and Sztella for being insanely hot and making the cover art for the series rock.

Jennifer L. Armentrout lives in West Virginia. All the rumors you’ve heard about her state aren’t true. Well, mostly. When she’s not hard at work writing, she spends her time reading, working out, watching zombie movies, and pretending to write. She shares her home with her husband, his K-9 partner named Diesel, and her hyper Jack Russell Loki. Her dreams of becoming an author started in algebra class, where she spent her time writing short stories… therefore explaining her dismal grades in math. Jennifer writes Adult and Young Adult Urban Fantasy and Romance.

Keep reading for a sample chapter of OBSIDIAN, the first book in Jennifer L. Armentrout’s Lux series…

Starting over sucks.

When we moved to West Virginia right before my senior year, I’d pretty much resigned myself to thick accents, dodgy internet access, and a whole lot of boring…. until I spotted my hot neighbor, with his looming height and eerie green eyes. Things were looking up.

And then he opened his mouth.

Daemon is infuriating. Arrogant. Stab-worthy. We do not get along. At all. But when a stranger attacks me and Daemon literally freezes time with a wave of his hand, well, something…unexpected happens.

The hot alien living next door marks me.

You heard me.
Alien
. Turns out Daemon and his sister have a galaxy of enemies wanting to steal their abilities, and Daemon’s touch has me lit up like the Vegas Strip. The only way I’m getting out of this alive is by sticking close to Daemon until my alien mojo fades.

If I don’t kill him first, that is.

I
missed
Dad.

And
Florida
was
Dad.
It
was
where
he’d
been
born,
where
he
met
my
mom,
and
where
everything
had
been
perfect…until
it
all
fell
apart.
My
eyes
burned,
but
I
refused
to
cry.
Crying
didn’t
change
the
past,
and
Dad
would’ve
hated
to
know
I
was
still
crying
three
years
later.

But
I
missed
Mom,
too.
The
Mom
before
Dad
had
died,
the
one
who
used
to
curl
up
on
the
couch
beside
me
and
read
one
of
her
trashy
romance
novels.
It
seemed
like
a
lifetime
ago.
It
certainly
was
half
a
country
ago.

Ever
since
Dad
died,
Mom
had
started
working
more
and
more.
She
used
to
want
to
be
home.
Then
it
seemed
like
she
wanted
to
be
as
far
away
as
possible.
She’d
finally
given
up
on
that
option
and
decided
we
needed
to
drive
far
away.
At
least
since
we’d
gotten
here,
even
though
she
was
still
working
like
a
demon,
she
was
determined
to
be
more
in
my
life.

I
had
decided
to
ignore
my
inner
compulsive
streak
and
let
the
boxes
be
damned
today,
when
the
smell
of
something
familiar
tickled
my
nose.
Mom
was
cooking.
This
was
so
not
good.

I
raced
downstairs.

She
stood
at
the
stove,
dressed
in
her
polka-dotted
scrubs.
Only
she
could
wear
head-to-toe
polka
dots
and
still
manage
to
look
good.
Mom
had
this
glorious
blonde
hair
that
was
stick
straight
and
sparkling
hazel
eyes.
Even
in
scrubs
she
made
me
look
dull
with
my
gray
eyes
and
plain
brown
hair.

And
somehow
I
ended
up
more…round
than
her.
Curvy
hips,
puffy
lips,
and
huge
eyes
that
Mom
loved
but
made
me
look
like
a
demented
kewpie
doll.

She
turned
and
waved
a
wooden
spatula
at
me,
half-cooked
eggs
splattering
onto
the
stove.
“Good
morning,
honey.”

I
stared
at
the
mess
and
wondered
how
best
to
take
over
this
fiasco
in
the
making
without
hurting
her
feelings.
She
was
trying
to
do
mom-stuff.
This
was
huge.
Progress.
“You’re
home
early.”

“I
worked
almost
a
double
shift
between
last
night
and
today.
I’m
set
to
work
Wednesday
through
Saturday,
eleven
till
nine
a.m.
That
leaves
me
with
three
days
off.
I’m
thinking
of
either
working
part
time
at
one
of
the
clinics
around
here
or
possibly
in
Winchester.”
She
scraped
out
the
eggs
onto
two
plates
and
set
the
half-burned
offering
in
front
of
me.

Yum.
Guess
it
was
too
late
for
an
intervention,
so
I
rifled
through
a
box
resting
on
the
far
counter
marked
‘Silverware
&
Stuff.’

“You
know
how
I
don’t
like
having
nothing
to
do,
so
I’m
going
to
check
into
them
soon.”

Yeah,
I
knew.

And
most
parents
would
probably
saw
off
their
left
arm
before
thinking
of
leaving
a
teenaged
girl
at
home
alone
all
the
time,
but
not
mine.
She
trusted
me
because
I
never
gave
her
reason
not
to.
It
wasn’t
for
lack
of
trying.
Well,
okay,
maybe
it
was.

I
was
kind
of
boring.

In
my
old
group
of
friends
in
Florida,
I
wasn’t
the
quiet
one,
but
I
never
skipped
class,
maintained
a
4.0,
and
was
pretty
much
a
good
girl.
Not
because
I
was
afraid
to
do
anything
reckless
or
wild;
I
didn’t
want
to
add
to
Mom’s
troubles.
Not
then…

Grabbing
two
glasses,
I
filled
them
with
orange
juice
Mom
must
have
picked
up
on
her
way
home.
“Do
you
want
me
to
get
groceries
today?
We
have
nothing.”

She
nodded
and
spoke
around
a
mouthful
of
eggs.
“You
think
of
everything.
A
grocery
trip
would
be
perfect.”
She
grabbed
her
purse
off
the
table,
pulling
out
cash.
“This
should
be
enough.”