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“I don’t think he would’ve been that dumb,” Kylar said. “He might rip off other people, maybe, but not Darkslayers.”
Jack stared at the thin, dark lines webbing away from Darien’s shining black eyes. “Can you see anything when you’re like that?”
“I can switch between regular vision and the Sight.” He pushed off the kitchen counter and turned to look at himself in the reflection of the microwave.
Fuck, he looked like a monster—like the beast forever prowling in his soul. “I don’t want Loren to see me like this.”
“Still no memories?” Kylar asked.
Darien leaned in closer to the microwave and pulled down his lower lid to study all the black. Even the inside of his lid was gray and webbed.
“Why don’t you show her yours?” Tanner suggested. “It might help her along.”
The Hob was watching from the top of the fridge, though she hid behind the jar of coins and cereal boxes, fully ducking every time Darien looked her way.
“I’m not going to hurt you, Itzel,” Darien said. “But I wouldn’t mind if you were quieter tonight.” Loren didn’t know this, but Darien created sound barriers for her every night until she fell into a deep sleep. It meant less sleep for him, but he’d do it for her. Anything for her.
He turned back around and leaned against the counter. Ran a hand through his hair, his rings catching in the strands. “I don’t want to do that,” Darien said, answering Atlas’s question. “Showing her my memories is no better than getting her to watch a movie—there are no feelings involved. I’d rather she remember on her own. Especially anything about me.”
Jack nodded, a new idiotic grin on his face. “You mean the bang sessions.”
The grinding of Darien’s teeth was audible. “Everything.”
“I think she’ll remember,” Tanner encouraged. “It’s only been a few days.”
Darien looked toward the stairs that led down to the pool; he could just barely hear the soft echo of Loren and Ivy’s conversation. “Hopefully.”
The stick of bare feet on the floor pulled his attention toward the hallway that led to the upper floors. Joyce was approaching, her body wrapped up in a pool towel, an extra bathing suit in hand.
Darien said, “Any doctor’s tips for drug abusers?” He smirked.
Joyce noted the black eyes and webbing. “Don’t use them.”
Loren paddled around in the pool on an inflatable donut.
Ivy had put on the bathing suit Joyce had brought down for her and was swimming laps. Joyce lounged in the hot tub, arms spread out on the rim behind her, eyes closed and head back.
This was heaven. That strange, hot feeling in Loren’s throat was gone, along with the stomach pangs. She didn’t want to jinx it, but…she had to admit she was feeling much better.
The doors to the pool room opened, and Darien walked in.
Loren stopped kicking her feet and bobbed in the donut, her arms looped through the center of it. Her long hair was soaked and stuck to her back.
Steel-blue eyes went straight to her; it was like he only ever saw her. “How are you feeling?” His bass voice echoed.
“Better.”
“Not thirsty anymore?”
She shook her head.
Ivy broke the surface of the water and pushed her wet hair back. “You’re a genius, Daredevil. I never would’ve thought of this.”
“I’m sure you would have,” he countered. His focus returned to Loren. “What about the other things?”
Her hand drifted toward her chest—and the lungs that still felt too small.
He was speaking again before she could respond. “Your teeth are still chattering.”
