A Darker Past (Entangled Teen) (The Darker Agency) (7 page)

Chapter Eight

I slammed the book closed and stood with a groan. We’d been at this since late afternoon, when we’d gotten back from Dobbs Park. “This is pointless. This lightning dude isn’t in any of our books.”

Cassidy had, as I’d expected, been no help whatsoever when Mom and Dad went to see her. She’d basically chased them off her property. After a brief stop back at the office to check on me—I wasn’t as trustworthy as Lukas—they’d gone in search of another source, and I’d sneaked off to ask Valefar about unquartzable Elemental demons. At least if I was forced to endure being at his beck and call for the next fifty-five years, I could get some info out of the deal. Unfortunately, he hadn’t been there, so Lukas and I had gotten stuck with good old-fashioned research—which, so far, had been pointless.

“It serves a purpose. We need information.” Lukas came to stand beside me. He had that look again. The same one I’d seen in his eyes when we left Dobbs Park. His gaze traveled the length of my body twice before lifting—and staying—on my lips. “Besides, if left to our own devices…”

I’d ultimately put the brakes on things in the park, and even though one side of my brain screamed at me to keep quiet and continue working, the other side, one might argue my demonic side, wanted to urge him on. “And what devices would those be, Mr. Scott?”

There was a spark of deviousness in his eyes, and it sent my pulse racing. He traced the outline of my jaw, then let his finger drift over my chin and down the front of my throat before sliding his hand around to the back of my neck. There was no butt grabbing this time, but it didn’t matter. The look in his eyes was ten times hotter than a copped feel could be.

“You know.” A wicked grin slipped across his lips, and his voice dropped to just above a whisper. “The
inappropriate
ones.”

With a single twitch of his wrist, he brought us together. Our lips met, and I felt it everywhere. From my forehead down to the tips of each toe. Warmth spread like wildfire as he grasped for skin through my clothing. His left hand drifted down my torso, then slipped underneath my shirt and wrapped around my waist. Skin against skin. The contact made it all feel so much more electric, and I couldn’t help the sigh that escaped my lips. A shocking patch of warmth against the cool air in the office.

“Touching, kissing,” he said between kisses. We stumbled backward, up against the wall behind my desk. With a jerk, we were facing the other direction, flush against the desk. In a single, swift maneuver, Lukas had our placement reversed. He was sitting on the edge, and I was in his lap with a leg on either side.

“Kisses aren’t inappropriate,” I said as he trailed a set of scorchers along my jaw and to my ear, taking the tip between his teeth for a fraction of a second. The action nearly had me screaming.

Warm breath tickled my neck. “The kind I have in mind are.” He brought his lips back to my ear. “I want to finish what we started earlier, Jessie.”

Hell in a hailstorm.

We’d hopped the danger line—one Lukas himself had put into place—and had rocketed into
Holy shit
territory. A few months ago, when I’d thought I was about to lose him for good, I’d suggested we sleep together. He very politely turned me down, and in the end I was thankful. I hadn’t really been ready to go there. I still wasn’t. But a part of me wanted to see how far he would take this. He wasn’t usually so open with the physical stuff, but lately he seemed bolder. More aggressive—and God, did I like it.

His kisses became more urgent, and his hands were everywhere all at once. On my face, tangled in my hair, back under my shirt. With a low growl, he grasped the belt loops on either side of my jeans and used them to haul me onto my knees. The hem of my T-shirt rode up, and a second later, warm kisses covered my stomach. I gasped. The noise only seemed to drive him harder.

There was no thought. For the first time, I wasn’t worried about my hand placement or whether or not I was kissing him right. It was all about the sensation.

In a dizzying move, he yanked me around and shifted us over to the couch. I landed on my back, Lukas hovering above me.

“The kind I have in mind are
very
inappropriate.” He made a move to push forward and kiss me again, but hesitated, stopping inches away. Curling his fingers around chunks of the cushion, he closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, he half sighed, half growled. “You see what you do to me? You, Jessie Darker, are a
dangerous
girl.”

“Who, me?” It took a moment, but I was able to catch my breath. My brain registered that stopping was the right move, but my body, with all its run-amok teenage hormones, was screaming at me to pull him back down and keep right on doing what we’d been doing. It felt like I was standing on the edge of change. Like one step in either direction could be life altering. It was electric and made me feel as alive as any Mashing Mom and I had ever done. I wasn’t ready to let that go just yet. “Besides, you’re supposed to spend time with me, remember?”

He leaned in, and I was sure he was going to say screw restraint and kiss me again, but he only rested his forehead against mine. His breathing was heavy, and I could feel the thumping of his pulse against my skin, both distracting and calming all at once. “I hardly think your father’s idea of guard duty entails the inappropriate placement of my hands and lips.”

The only way to free Lukas from Wrath was to coax the Sin into someone else—ironically, his annoyingly long-lived ex, Meredith, was kind enough to supply the perfect little rage-filled package. But to do that, he’d had to die. I bet there weren’t many girls out there that could brag that their father killed their boyfriend—and then brought him back to life again. The end result was, Lukas was now bound to Dad. Add smooching your boss’s daughter to Lukas’s already ancient view of relationship etiquette, and you got some seriously frustrated teenage hormones.

“Aww. But I
like
your hands and lips.”

He shook his head and slid off the couch and extended a hand to help me up. With a smile that set the air on fire, he whispered, “As I said,
dangerous
.”

…

Mom and Dad got back around ten, just as
Die Hard
was ending. Lukas had a thing for action movies. Typical guy. Sadly, he was the perfect gentleman the entire time. He said good night—under the watchful eye of my dad—and promised to be back in the morning. We’d both been excited about the prospect of him moving from the office couch to an apartment of his own, but at times, like in the middle of the night when I couldn’t sleep, I wished he hadn’t left.

Sleep had been elusive lately, and when Lukas was still on the couch in the office, I used to go downstairs and sit up with him. Just talking. Add that to the stress of this new demon thing hanging over my head, and I could have used a good talking session.

Or maybe something else…

God
. I needed to get my brain out of the gutter. The physical aspect of our relationship had taken leaps and bounds lately, and more and more, I found myself thinking about them. No. Not thinking. Obsessing. Daydreaming about what it’d feel like to peel away Lukas’s shirt and get a peek at the chiseled abs I’d only felt through cotton. Wondering how it would feel to have his hands skimming up my bare thigh. How I’d react if he removed my shirt…

Cold shower alert!

I pushed the covers aside and swung my legs over the edge. Smokey was snoring softly at the end of the bed, and when I hopped off the mattress, he shifted and started the subtle wiggle I knew would eventually land him on my pillow. I’d given up trying to stop him, and had a pile of extras stashed away in the closet. Just in case.

I made my way down the stairs and into the small kitchen area in the office. The one up in the apartment was too close to Mom’s room. I knew any noise I made wouldn’t wake her up—the woman slept like the dead—but I didn’t want to chance waking Dad. He hadn’t been around long enough for me to learn his sleeping patterns. As it turned out, though, it didn’t matter because he was up anyway.

“Can’t sleep?”

I whirled around. Dad was standing by the doorway, fully dressed. “Nah.” I grabbed a mug from the cabinet above the sink and wiggled it. “Was hoping some hot cocoa would help.”

Dad shook his head and stepped up to take the cup from me. Studying me for a moment, he said, “It won’t. Trust me. This happening a lot lately?”

“The not sleeping thing? Yeah, actually. I can’t seem to stay in dreamland. Probably doesn’t help that I’m failing math, either.”

He sank into one of the blue metal folding chairs at the table and gestured for me to do the same. The small card table we’d put in there took up a lot of space, but with Dad sitting in one of the chairs, the room looked even smaller. The guy was massive, with a close-trimmed goatee and several badass tattoos. Definitely not your typical Dad look. I secretly wanted him to join the PTA. That would have started chatter for sure.

He tapped the side of his head. “I’m sure stress is playing a part, but I think it’s more complicated than that. I think with some work, you can control that.”

“Control that? My insomnia is a
that
?”

“There’s not much to go on since, as far as I know, there’s never been someone like you, but I think your ability to shadow is what’s keeping you awake at night.”

“And that makes sense?”

“It does,” he confirmed. “Demons don’t need sleep. We
can
sleep, and while I personally find it enjoyable, it’s not necessary for our bodies to function. But that doesn’t mean our bodies don’t have other
needs
.”

“Oh my God.” I gasped. Nearly fell out of my chair, too. “Please tell me we aren’t going to have some twisted demonic sex talk.”

Dad blinked, then paled. “I—you can’t—really?
That’s
where you went with that?” His expression darkened, and he leaned forward, thumping both elbows on the small table. It wobbled and shook beneath his weight. Oh yeah. Dad had menacing down perfectly. I needed to take notes. “No. We weren’t, but I’m wondering if we need to?”

I cleared my throat. “Um, no. So, needs?”

Slowly, he leaned back. “As in, you’re half Shadow demon. You’re able to shadow, so I think your body
wants
to shadow. Needs to. At night when you’re trying to sleep and the lights are off, I believe it’s your body’s way of trying to get you to do something you should already be doing. How often are you shadowing?”

“Um, not that often.”

“What’s not that often?”

“Once a week, maybe?” He didn’t look impressed. “Why do I get the feeling that was the wrong answer…?”

“This is my fault,” he said, running a hand over his face. “We should have talked about all this before now. I’ve missed out on so much with you and your mom, and I’ve been trying to make up for lost time—”

“It’s okay, Dad.” A jolt of happy shot through me right then. I was sitting in the kitchen in the middle of the night talking to my dad. Not a rushed phone call or a five minute visit squeezed in between jobs. An actual no-limit conversation. We could sit here until dawn if we wanted, and there was no one stopping us. The giddy teenage girl in me took over for a moment, and before I could overthink it, I was out of my chair and wrapping my arms around him.

I could tell I’d surprised him by the way he tensed, but it didn’t last. A moment later, he was squeezing back just as hard. Probably a little harder, because breathing became an issue. When I finally pulled away and sank back into my chair, slightly embarrassed, Dad had turned serious again.

“You need to start shadowing more. In theory, that will help. If we don’t shadow, we grow sick and weak. Because you’re half Shadow demon, I’m guessing you need to as well.” He frowned. “How is everything with Valefar?” His eyes took on a protective gleam. “Is he treating you well? Were there any repercussions for the mistake you made?”

“It’s fine. Promise. Other than being an irritating and slightly intrusive pain in my ass, he’s, well, Valefar. He said I got one ‘get out of jail free’ card.”

He nodded, but didn’t look entirely convinced. “Should an occasion arise and you have trouble, you come to me. Understand? Trouble, or questions. Anything. I know I was away a lot when you were growing up, but I’m here now and am going to make this work. For you and your mom.”

I loved my dad, but had always maintained that his traditional involvement in my life wasn’t necessary. Father-daughter dances, lectures about staying out too late, boyfriend interviews… I’d never missed it because I’d never had it. And even though I didn’t need him to keep me safe—Mom made sure I could do that myself from the time I could hold my first weapon—I kind of loved the overprotective shtick.

I sucked in a breath. “Actually, I
do
have a question…”

I had his attention. “Okay.”

“Lukas seems…different.”

Dad frowned. “That’s not a very helpful description.”

“Right after you saved him, you told Mom and me that he’d start showing signs of demonic abilities.” I slipped into my game face. I knew this wasn’t a topic he wanted to discuss; he’d skirted the question for months now, but it was time to lay it all out on the table. “Time to fess up. What’s really going on with him? He’s still Lukas, but sometimes he’s…”

“Different,” he repeated my word.

“Yeah.” That was as much as I was willing to say. Somehow, it felt like a bad idea to tell my demonically charged dad that Lukas had been gropier than usual.

Dad sighed. “It’s not that he’s different, he’s just changing, and when you add that to the fact that he will always retain a bit of Wrath, it gets complicated. I’m working with him to keep his emotions in check.”

A sick feeling bubbled up in my stomach. “Keep his emotions in check? What exactly is he changing into?”