He glanced at me, deep shadows in his eyes. “But we don’t, Kitten.”
I shook my head. “It’s not right.”
“It’s not. Most Luxen don’t push for anything different. Dawson did. He loved Bethany.” Daemon exhaled raggedly. “We were against it. And I thought he was stupid for falling for a human. No offense.”
“None taken.”
“It was hard for him. Our group was upset with him, but Dawson…he was the strong one.” Daemon smiled as he shook his head. “He didn’t cave, and if the colony had discovered the truth, I don’t think they would’ve changed him.”
“Couldn’t he have left with her, snuck past the DOD? Maybe that’s what happened?”
“Dawson loved it here. He was big on hiking and outdoors. He was into the whole rustic-living thing.” Daemon glanced at me. “He’d never leave, especially without telling Dee or me. I know both of them are dead.” He smiled again. “You would’ve liked Dawson. Looked just like me but a much better guy. Not a douchebag, in other words.”
A lump formed in my throat. “I’m sure I would’ve, but you’re not bad.”
He arched a brow.
“Okay, you’re prone to moments of great dickdom, but you’re not bad.” I paused, holding the pillow tight. “Do you want to know what I honestly think?”
“Should I be worried?”
I laughed. “There’s a really nice guy under the jerk. I’ve seen glimpses of him. So while I probably want to beat the crap out of you most of the time, I really don’t think you’re a bad guy. You have a lot of responsibility.”
Daemon tilted his head back and chuckled. “Well, I guess that’s not too bad.”
I shrugged. “Can I ask you a question and you tell me the truth?”
“Always,” he swore.
I reached around my neck and pulled at the dainty chain. The obsidian came into view, and I held it in my hand. “The DOD is a bigger concern than the Arum, aren’t they?”
His lips thinned, but he didn’t lie. “Yes.”
I ran a finger over the wire twisted at the top of the crystal. “What would they do if they knew I was moving things like you?”
“They’d probably do the same thing they’d do to us if they knew.” Daemon reached out and cupped my hand that held the obsidian. He laid his finger over mine, stopping my movements. “They’d lock you up…or worse. But I’m not going to let that happen.”
My skin tingled where it made contact with his. “But how can you live like this? Like, just waiting for them to find out there’s more to you guys?”
His fingers curled around mine, enclosing the pendant until we both held it in our hands. “It’s all I’ve known—it’s all any of us have known.”
I blinked away the sudden rush of tears. “That’s really kind of sad.”
“It’s our life.” He paused. “But don’t worry about them. Nothing will happen to you.”
Our faces were only inches apart. His hand was still around mine. Something struck me then. “You’re always protecting others, aren’t you?”
He squeezed my hand and then released it. Leaning against the couch, he reached one arm back and rested his head against his curved elbow. He didn’t answer my question. “This hasn’t been a very birthday-friendly conversation.”
“It’s okay. You want more milk or anything?”
“No, but I would like to know something.”
I frowned and stretched out my right leg in the small space he didn’t occupy. He was rather large, so it didn’t leave a lot of room. “What?”
“How often do you run through the house singing?” he asked seriously.
I kicked at him, but he caught my toes. “You can leave now.”
“I seriously love these socks.”
“Give me back my foot,” I ordered.
“It’s not so much the fact that they’ve got reindeers on them or that they go all the way up to your knees.” As if that were some kind of great distance. “But it’s the fact they’re like mittens on your feet.”
Rolling my eyes, I wiggled my toes. “I like them like that. And don’t you dare knock them. I will kick you off this couch.”
He raised a brow and continued to inspect them. “Sock mittens, huh? Never seen anything like it. Dee would love them.”
I pulled at my foot, and he let go. “Whatever. I’m sure there’re cornier things than my socks. Don’t judge me. It’s the only thing I like about the holidays.”
“The only thing? I figured you’re the type of person who wants the Christmas tree to go up on Thanksgiving.”
“You celebrate Christmas?”
Daemon nodded. “Yes. It’s the human thing to do. Dee loves Christmas. Actually, I think she just loves the idea of presents.”
I laughed. “I used to love the holidays. And yeah, I was real big on the Christmas tree when Dad was alive. We’d put it up while watching the parade on Thanksgiving.”
“But?”
“But Mom is never home on the holidays now. And I know she won’t be this year; since she’s new at the hospital, she’ll get the shaft.” I shrugged. “I’m always alone on the holidays, like some sort of old cat woman.”
He didn’t respond but watched me intently. I think he sensed how uncomfortable it made me to admit, because he changed the subject. “So, this Bob guy…”