Page 2 of Daemonium

He stayed close by, observing me intently. I understood that he wanted to make sure I drank the water. His silent and serious demeanor was both reassuring and unsettling. Even before regaining some of my memories, his presence had been a constant. At the Sanctuaries we slept in the same bed, sharing other moments behind closed doors.

I usually had a strict rule about keeping men at arm's length, but with him, it was different.

From the beginning of this twisted performance, I felt like I had already known him on some level. There was an unexplainable familiarity that went beyond superficial attraction. His captivating eyes drew me in, becoming a source of conflict within myself. They were a striking, deep shade of amber that almost appeared black in certain lighting. His dark hair was styled with length on top and trimmed closely at the sides.

Each tattoo that adorned his knuckles, traced up his arms, and wrapped around his neck seemed to have its own story to tell. Whenever I gazed upon him, I couldn't help but feel giddy like a schoolgirl with euphoria. And then there were the more intense desires that would surge to the surface when he was near or when we were alone together. I struggled to ignore these desires, but it was a difficult task, and I hadn't been very successful.

He seemed to have an uncanny ability to persuade me, and I wasn't sure if I truly didn't want to give in or if he just knew how to manipulate me.

Since I had begun to remember him, his prolonged silence was maddening.

Did he know I knew?

It seemed impossible for him not to. He never missed a beat, no matter how insignificant the details were. Part of me considered the possibility that he had lost those memories as well, but deep down I knew I was being naive. While I couldn't pinpoint any specific events between us since I arrived here, there were small hints that made it clear he remembered everything. He and his friends acting as if we’d all just met on that shuttle bus, was slowly beginning to make sense.

“You should be with the rest of us.” His rough voice cut through my oppressive thoughts once more.

He was right, of course. Sitting here wouldn’t do them or me any favors.

I chugged enough water to chase away the scratchiness lingering in my throat before rising from the sofa.

“What about him?” I recapped the bottle and nodded in Dion’s direction.

“I’m only here for you.”

Our height difference forced me to tilt my head back to maintain eye contact. I peered up at him, finding nothing. It was beyond frustrating.

His penetrating stare was as cryptic as ever. I might as well have been studying a wall of stone covered in hieroglyphics. It seemed to be the opposite for him, despite my best efforts to remain guarded. The way he looked at me, it was as if he could see all the truths I was trying to keep hidden, everything I wasn't ready to confront or reveal.

I took a few steps in the direction of the table and then paused when he remained exactly where he was.

“Aren’t you coming?”

“I’ll be right behind you,” he retorted in his usual tone, a combination of ice and grit.

I withheld a sigh and moved past him, ignoring the heat that seemed to jump off his solid frame. Like a shadow, he followed without a sound. I should’ve known better than to bother asking. Ever since we’d been dumped in this forsaken place, he always seemed to be no more than an arm’s reach away.

Lana looked up from whatever she was studying as I approached, flashing me a brief smile. Kyrous moved from behind me and wordlessly took position on the other side of the table, right beside his brother.

“Are you okay?” she asked, concern evident in her brown eyes.

“I’m fine,” I replied, offering her a brighter smile in return.

I couldn't tell if she remembered anything simply by looking at her. She had a remarkable ability to compartmentalize her thoughts and push through any challenges without missing a beat. I had always admired that about her. And it wasn't just Lana--Melantha who shared the same strength of will. As I thought about it, I realized this was something we were trained to do. In a way, it helped us survive in the dangerous games we were forced to play.

I looked down at the table and saw the impressively detailed map Brody had produced an hour or so ago. “Where did this come from again?”

He ran a hand through his thick mass of brown curls. “I’ve had this bad boy for a while, was just waiting for the right moment to bring it out.”

“This lovely group of gentlemen had a plan this entire time and now they’re letting us in on their elaborate scheme,” Mel suddenly spoke up.

I looked over just as she opened her eyes—the grey in them a little darker than usual--and tossed me a pained smile. “Don’t quote me on that. It’s the gist of what I’ve gathered while in and out of sleep.” She swung her legs over the side of the loveseat and stood up. Even with her colorful hair in a messy ponytail, and swimming in Maverick’s hoodie she was strikingly beautiful. My heart clenched as she made her way toward us. It was obvious she was in pain. There wasn’t anything any of us could do about it. I quickly masked my emotions and focused on the map before she could see them.

Mel hated being fussed over regardless of how warranted it was.

“What’s the big building you circled?” I asked partially to distract myself, but more so because of genuine curiosity.

“That’s where we need to go,” Maverick explained. “It’s a town hall of sorts.”

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