The Accidental Kiss (The Kiss Book 1) (30 page)

“We need to practice your combat skills.”

“Do we have time for that?”

“It’s only two a.m.” Daemon’s long legs stepped out onto the gravel. He came around the car and opened my door. “It’s important you know how to defend yourself in case anything goes wrong.”

The hidden implications of his statement made me suck in a lungful of air. “Nothing will go awry,” I said vehemently.

“You’re right, nothing will, but I don’t want you to trip and kill yourself on the dagger instead,” he wisecracked.

While my mother had always said a donkey had more grace than I did, I took offense to Daemon’s lack of confidence in my weapon yielding skills.
Buffy the Vampire Slayer
was Melissa’s and my favorite TV show back in the day. We’d act out her moves with wrapping paper rolls as a stand in for a wooden stake.

I crossed my arms over my chest. “Excuse me, my skills are top notch. Thank you very much.”

Daemon held out his hand and an invitation of a challenge shined in his eyes. “Then show me.”

Looking past him out at the pitch-black field caused the hairs on the back of my neck to bristle. My night vision wasn’t the greatest and also Daemon wasn’t Melissa. He had paranormal abilities, such as super human speed and could communicate telepathically. Plus his 150 pounds of pure muscle outmatched my petite figure.

Daemon caught on to the thousand excuses running through my head. “It wasn’t a question.” He reached past me to unbuckle my seatbelt and I caught a whiff of his scent. Lust stirred in my stomach. “Out of the car, princess,” he ordered. His bossiness stroked the flame further, need traveled between my legs, and I bit my bottom lip to ward away my hunger. Daemon’s eyes riveted onto my mouth. “You’re a master of distraction except for right now.” Yanking me out of the car, I stumbled as my feet hit the gravel.

“Hey!” I jerked out of his grasp. “Was that really necessary?”

Desire clouded his gaze as he stared at my thin cotton dress. “Yes otherwise you would be on your back right now, legs spread, calling out my name.”

My nipples strained against my bra. He turned on his heels and walked into the field. “And for God’s sake, put on a sweatshirt or something.”

“I don’t have one.”

He mumbled an array of creative obscenities my way. Laughing at his frustration, I was glad he had the same effect on me as I did to him. When I lived in Los Angeles, there were boys who caught my attention but they were exactly that, boys. Daemon was a man with hot blood that snaked through his veins who induced sexual thoughts with a mere glance. He was every girl’s fantasy come to life and he was mine to indulge in, which was exactly what I’d rather be doing right now. Trailing after him, we ended up in the middle of the field. Tall grass brushed against my bare ankles.

A sliver of a moon provided enough light to make out Daemon’s hulking figure crouched in a fight stance. “You ready?”

“Of course I’m not ready. It’s two a.m. and I’m wearing a dress with flip flops.”

Daemon ignored my snarky comment. “We’ll start off slow without any weapons. Only our hands.”

“Awesome,” I said sarcastically. “I’m glad to hear I won’t get knifed until later.”

“However, don’t think I won’t go hard on you.”

The sexual innuendo was handed to me on a silver platter. “Hard and fast?”

His lip twitched then settled back into a thin line. Jabbing a right upper cut, he shook out his shoulder and tilted his neck to the side. “Ok, let’s do this.”

I gulped and was about to say something to delay the inevitable when a blur of motion came at me. In the nick of time, my legs jumped out of the way. I tucked and rolled to a kneeled position. “What the hell?”

“Good. Your reflexes are faster than I thought,” Daemon praised as he extended his hand to help me up. “But remember to never let your defenses down. They are what will keep you alive.”

I slapped my palm into his and hauled myself to my feet. It was on like Donkey Kong. My left fist jabbed out, which Daemon grabbed effortlessly and threw back. “Again,” he ordered.

A frustrated growl left my lips while I did what he commanded. This time my punch grazed his cheek and Daemon smiled proudly. “You’re a fast learner.” Kicking my feet apart, he pushed on my knee so my body was lower to the ground. “Now swing your torso back and forth like a pendulum.”

I arched an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

In my short yoga phase, there was a move similar to this, except we were sitting down. It was easier when you were sitting. I braced my hands on my legs, jutted my butt out, and went left to right.

As my breath came out in sporadic spurts, Daemon spoke. “Enough.”

I returned to a standing position. “What was that move for?”

“To get your blood pumping.” An evil grin danced on his lips and I itched to smack it off of him. “It seems like it did the trick.”

“I hate you.”

Chuckling, Daemon cleared his throat and smacked his hands together. The sound echoed in the stillness. “First lesson: The basic angles of attack are ‘the slash,’ which is based off a figure eight pattern.” Daemon demonstrated. “The move can also go upwards and it can also go downwards.”

His hand gripped an imaginary knife and his feet moved gracefully. I shuddered at the slicing movements he made, which would surely cut a man to ribbons. Daemon continued to teach me the terminology until my brain was at maximum capacity. Next was putting what I learned to use. We sparred back and forth. First slowly, like Daemon had promised then as my confidence grew, faster. Sweat beaded on my forehead as my arm bent upwards and blocked an attack.

“Try harder.” Daemon’s voice rang out in my head.

Caught off guard, I lost my footing and almost got nailed by an oncoming roundhouse kick. At the last second, my head ducked and Daemon’s leg sailed over me. I made a signal to pause.

Between spurts of breath, my voice leaked out. “You can’t use your telepathic ability.

“Why not? The zombies will use everything they have in the book to kill you.”

He was right. They would. Nonetheless, it seemed unfair I was at such a disadvantage since my only ability was clairvoyance and since there wasn’t an ounce of love toward the zombies, I couldn’t activate it. Suddenly, Daemon’s features turned ashen gray. He lowered himself to the ground and sat crossed legged on the grass.

“What’s wrong?” Do you need the green potion?” I asked, alarmed. Daemon remained mute as his chest rose and fell sporadically. “I’ll get it for you. Hold on.”

My feet were about to bolt in the direction of the car when his hand clamped around my ankle. His chin lifted upwards and I winced at the pain reflected in his eyes. “I’m fine.”

“You’re a horrible liar.”

“When I say I am fine…” He bit out, “I’m fine.”

Daemon was more stubborn than a mule and prouder than one too. He was unmistakably in agony. Guilt crushed my windpipe. He shouldn’t have fallen in love with me. Like I said before, I wasn’t worth it. He growled as a spasm of pain gripped him.

Placing my hand on his cheek, I whispered in his ear. “Stay with me. I’ll be right back.”

Daemon needed the green potion ASAP. I ran through the field toward the truck. Grappling with the handle, I yanked open the door and searched through our bags. Personal items were thrown this way and that.

“Where is it?” I yelled frantically. In Daemon’s jacket pocket, I spotted the vial and wrapped my fingers around it. “There you are you sneaky little thing.”

Sprinting back to where Daemon was, my knees hit the ground next to his head. I uncorked the vial and tried to recall how much Mrs. Ruth told me to give. Since we only had one small bottle, a drop would have to do.

“Open your mouth,” I said.

Daemon’s unfocused gaze settled on the green potion, he shook his head. “No,” he croaked.

“No isn’t an option anymore.” My fingers gripped his jaw and pried it open. Tipping the bottle, a green droplet landed on his tongue. “There.”

Daemon’s expression soured as he swallowed. I anxiously waited for something to happen. Thankfully it didn’t take long to see results. As the potion flooded his system, color returned to his cheeks while his green eyes cleared like the passing of a storm. His arms unwound themselves from around his legs and he sat up.

“That Mrs. Ruth sure knows how to make a potent spell,” I said in awe.

Daemon patted his body as if to ensure everything was still in tact. When he felt that everything was indeed in one piece, relief lined his mouth followed by gratitude. “Thank you for not listening to me.”

“I never listen to you.”

“And today, I am appreciative of that.”

He crawled over to me and slung his arm over my shoulders, drawing me into him. I let my head fall onto his shoulder. The weight of his presence calmed my nerves. That was the second time in the past twenty hours I had almost lost Daemon.

“What does it feel like?” I whispered.

Daemon stared out into the distance as he searched for how to accurately describe the sensation of his soul evaporating. “Imagine somebody grabbing your organs, twisting them into an ugly knot then yanking them out one by one until you feel like an empty hollow shell.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.”

We listened to the grass blow in the wind as I scooted closer to Daemon. My hand found his and our fingers intertwined. “I’m sorry.”

He glanced at me from the corner of his eye. “You have nothing to be sorry about.”

“But…”

“But nothing. You are worth it, Sky, which you better start believing because I’ll say it over and over again until you do.”

I had no doubt in my mind he would. For a guy with a soul trapped in a jar he was overflowing with love to give. “Ok.”

While the last thing I wanted to bring up was the upcoming royal battle, it had to be discussed. Especially after Daemon’s incident. He was weaker than he once was and would only get weaker as the hours passed. I was afraid the two of us alone weren’t enough to take on the voodoo priest. Problem was, there was nobody else to help us.

Daemon picked up the sudden shift in my mood. “What’s up?”

“Have you thought about the possibility we will be outnumbered?”

“Ask your real question.”

Afraid to offend his masculinity, I chose my words carefully. “It’s just we sparred for ten minutes, fifteen maximum, and you almost died again.”

“So you’re scared I will fail you?” The edge in his voice made me want to shove my observation back into my throat. Sighing, he ran his fingers through his hair. “Sorry. It’s just hard for me to get used to this decaying body of mine. Look, I can’t promise anything. Nor do I know what will happen but we have to go into that warehouse as if we’re warriors and kick ass like nobody’s business.”

While Daemon’s speech was motivating, it didn’t chase away my fears that today might be the last day I had with him.

Daemon and I ditched the truck a half a mile away from my house and walked. I tore off a corner of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich Mrs. Ruth had made us and shoved it into my mouth. Hopefully, this wasn’t my last meal if I bit the dust. In my youth, whenever somebody asked me the ever so popular morbid question, “What would your last meal be?” I would say a five layer double chocolate cake with thick vanilla sour cream frosting and heavy on the sprinkles. Kids were always surprised my answer was so exact but sugar sounded like a sweet send off. Maybe I could somehow convince Laura to make a cake for me. After all, she was a pastry chef. Swallowing the last bite of my sandwich, Daemon and I arrived at my brightly colored shotgun house.