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Tillie
You can’t explain why people do the things they do or why they can be so vastly different. I’ve tried. Being surrounded by somewhat off-balance individuals for the better part of my life has been the biggest teacher of all when it comes to this.
So why is it that when it comes to Daemon, I can feel so strongly for him while really knowing nothing much about him. Co
Love and Hate.
“How’s your head?” I ask, taking a seat on his bed beside him. This room is much like mine. They’re identical. “This place gives me the creeps.”
Daemon shuffles closer to me, his feet dangling off the bed. I turn to face him, for the first time with it just being him and I and a long stretch of silence.
“I’ve missed you.”
I lick my lips and turn to face him, my hands coming to his. He looks so different with short hair. It gives his very pretty face a rougher edge. I miss his hair. My hand comes up to his head and I stretch my fingers out over his scalp, feeling the spikes brush against the palm of my hand.
His eyes close, peace falling over his features. “I missed you too.”
His eyes slowly open onto my mouth. I freeze. With the language barrier, we’ve always gone by what feels right in the moment. He comforted me when I needed it and I lit him on fire when he craved it, but kissing him right now would feel wrong. I can’t lead him into thinking that we can pick up where we left off all those months ago. Too much has changed, so much has hardened. I’m not the same girl I was when he left me, and he’s not the same boy who I knew when I left.
I run my finger down the side of his face, dragging it over his bottom lip. “You need to be free, Daemon.”
“Free,” he mimics, his lips curving with each letter.
I nod. “Free.”
He leans away from me slightly. “I’ll never be free, Puella. Nothing can free me. Not even you.” His eyes bore into mine.
I stifle a laugh. “How could I free you?”
He doesn’t answer me, his eyes staying on mine. I fight the urge to crawl onto his lap. “Did you—” He pauses, searching around the place. “Finish my book?”
Everything fast-forwards and I’m instantly thrown back into the pages of Puer Natus. I shake my head. “Not yet.”
“Finish it,” he orders and then turns to face the wall.
I don’t have the heart to tell him that I don’t know where it is right now, so I settle on, “Can’t you just tell me how it ends?”
He doesn’t answer. He’s shut off. I slowly stand from his bed and tiptoe to where he lays. Leaning down, I press my lips to his head, holding it there for a second while inhaling the smell of dirt, blood, and something sweet.
“I’m sorry, Daemon.”
I leave, sinking into my bed once I get back into my room.
Why can’t I save him? I want to save him. I can’t save him. No one can save him but himself, and even then, I don’t even think he could save himself.
Wind whisks through my hair, flicking it up into the air as I run down the concrete path. The city is empty, and when I stop and look up, I see I’m directly outside Madison and Bishop’s apartment. There’s no doorman. No cars. No lights. No power. The sun is setting, and the burnt orange hue is slowly dropping into a deep brown. My toes curl against the rusted leaves that have fallen. Why was I ru “Stop!” I scream so loud my throat throbs from the pain. Silence finally cuts through the torturous sound. I slowly peel my eyes open, only now I’m in the middle of a cemetery. I recognize it. The stone in front of me catches my eye and I see D A E M O N spelled in Celtic font over it. Nothing else. Just Daemon. “What?” “Pop Goes the Weasel” starts again as the grass melts away from beneath my feet and I’m falling. “No!” I shake my head, darkness enveloping me in the small grave. “No!” I scream, reaching for the walls but dirt fills my hands and the darkness gets more opaque. The ten Kings all circle the grave above, peering down at me. “Let me out!” Dirt flies into the grave, hitting my face— I fly off the bed, but someone is sitting at the foot. Sweat is dripping down my face. “Daemon?” I clutch the blankets up to my chin, the nightmare still fresh on my mind. It wasn’t real. “Nightmare?” he asks without looking at me. I lick my lips. “Yes.” I wonder what the time is, but if I’m guessing by my body clock, I would say pushing close to early morning. “Are you okay?” Daemon turns to face me. “No. Finish the book, Puella. For me.” I gulp. “Okay.” He stands and makes his way back out the door. He came in here to tell me that? Why does he scare me more than usual since he’s been back? I rub my temples, closing my eyes while trying to form the right words or thoughts. Exhaling, I flick the blankets off of my body and step all the way down the hallway until I reach the door. I pull on the handle, but it’s locked. Just as I’m about to bang on it, it flies open and Nate is standing opposite me. He dips his head. “Come on.” “What about Daemon?” Nate’s jaw clenches and he shuts the door. “He’s staying down here. By choice. Let’s go.” I follow him as he leads me up the stairs and back to the main floor. When we reach the kitchen, Bailey is sitting on a bar stool, eating granola. “Hey!” Her face lights up and she swings her little body off the chair, making her way to me. “Brantley said you were here, so I thought I’d come say hi.” I pull her in for a hug, the familiarity strong. “Are you okay?” I ask, my hands coming to her arms as I search over her. “He hasn’t hurt you?” “Stop being so dramatic, little terror.” My cheeks hurt from the smile that’s stretching over my face. “Can I say that I prefer little terror over princess?” Brantley pours some coffee into a mug and that’s when my eyes come to him. He’s wearing loose grey sweats and no shirt. Did I say no shirt, because I meant no fucking shirt. His floppy dark hair falls over his forehead slightly, his dark eyes zeroing in on me. The dick print is strong, and I have to fight with myself not to do something girly like bite my lip or moan. When my eyes finally come back to Brantley’s, he’s smirking at me over the rim of his mug. “You’re drooling like you haven’t seen what’s under these pants.” I roll my eyes, taking my attention back to something safe, like Bailey. “How are you?” She shrugs. “I’ll be okay. I have orders that I’ll be starting Riverside Prep next year, so I guess I’m just winging it until then.” My eyes shoot to Brantley. “Is that right? Awful school…” Nate kicks the backs of my legs. “That’s my school you’re talking about…literally. I own it.”