Daemon was making just as much sense as Blake, but I went along with it.

“Picture having hundreds of arms.”

I did as he instructed. In my head, I imagined I looked like that Hindu goddess. I giggled.

“Katy.” Blake sighed.

“Sorry.”

“Now take those arms and make them transparent in your mind.” Daemon paused. “You can see those arms; see the books all over the living room. Can you? I know you know where each and every one is placed.”

Knowing that if I spoke, I’d break my concentration, I nodded.

“Okay. Good.” His fingers tightened. “Now I want you to turn those arms into light. An intense, bright light.”

“Like…your light?”

“Yes.”

I took another breath and pictured my Hindu arms as long, slender ribbons of light. Yeah, I looked ridiculous.

“Do you see it?” he asked softly. “And do you believe it?”

Pausing before I answered, I worked really hard to believe what I was seeing. The arms of blinding white light were mine. Like Daemon and Blake had said, they were extensions of my being. I imagined each of those hands picking up the books scattered about.

“Open your eyes,” Blake instructed.

When I did, books floated around the room. I moved them to the coffee table, stacking them in alphabetic order without laying a finger on them. A heady thrill went through me. Finally! Ecstatic, I almost started jumping and squealing.

Daemon let go, his smile an odd mixture of pride and something much more. It tugged at my heart. So much so that I had to look away, and my gaze collided with Blake’s.

He grinned at me, and I grinned back. “I actually did something.”

“You did.” He stood. “And it was pretty damn good. Nice work.”

I turned to say something to Daemon, but there was a rush of warm air and I realized the spot where Daemon had stood was empty. A door opened and then closed.

Surprised, I turned to Blake. “I…”

“He sure can move fast,” he said, shaking his head. “I can move fast, but damn. Not as fast as him.”

I nodded, blinking back hot tears. The one time I actually did something right, Daemon bailed. How freaking typical.

“Katy,” Blake said softly, wrapping his hand around my arm. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” I pulled free, dragging in deep breaths.

He followed me into the living room. “Do you want to talk about it?”

I choked out a laugh, embarrassed. “No.”

Blake was silent for several moments. “It’s probably better this way.”

“It is?” I folded my arms, willing my tears to go away. Crying fixed nothing.

He nodded. “From what I’ve gathered, relationships between the Luxen and humans don’t work out. And before you tell me there’s nothing between you two, I know better. I can see the way you look at each other. But it’s not going to work out.”

If this was supposed to be a motivational speech, it was so not working. Blake picked up the first book, smoothing his hands over the glossy purple cover. “It’s better if you cut ties. Or he does, before someone gets hurt.”

My stomach hollowed. “Hurt?”

He nodded solemnly. “Look at it this way. If he thought the DOD was onto you, what do you think he’d do? Risk his life, right? And if the DOD does find out you’ve been mutated, they’re going to want to know who did it. Their first guess is going to be him.”

I started to tell Blake that it wasn’t Daemon, but that would just sound suspicious, and damn if he didn’t have a point. Daemon was the obvious suspect. I sat down, rubbing the heel of my hand over my forehead. “I don’t want anyone to get hurt,” I said finally.

Blake sat beside me. “Do we ever? But what we want rarely changes the outcome, Katy.”

…

In trig the following day, Daemon tapped his pen off my back. “I’m not going to be at your training today,” he said in a low voice.

Disappointment swelled inside me. Even though Daemon usually wasn’t the most helpful person during these sessions, I truly believed the reason I’d been able to move the books was because of him.

And yeah, I also looked forward to seeing him. Sigh.

I forced a shrug, playing it cool. “Okay.”

His emerald-colored eyes met mine for a brief moment and then he sat back, scribbling along his notebook. Feeling as if I’d been dismissed, I faced the front of the class and exhaled slowly.

Carissa tossed a folded-up note on my desk. Curious, I spread it open.

Why the :( face?

Gosh, was I that obvious? I scribbled a quick message:

Just tired. heart your new glasses.

And I did. They were a rocking zebra print. I managed to toss the note back to her. We weren’t worried about our teacher—it was doubtful he could see all the way to the back of the classroom. The guy made Santa look young.

A few seconds later, the note was back on my desk. I grinned as I unfolded it.

Thank you. Lesa wants me to tell you: “Daemon looks hot today.” I have to agree.

I laughed under my breath and wrote back,

Daemon always looks hot!!!

Stretching into the aisle, I went to drop the note back on Carissa’s desk. Before it could leave my fingertips, it was snatched from my hand. Son of a donkey butt! My mouth dropped open and my cheeks burned. Twisting around in my seat, I glared at Daemon.

He held the note close to his chest and grinned. “Passing notes is bad,” he murmured.

“Give it back,” I hissed.

Shaking his head, he unfolded the note much to my—and I’m sure, to Lesa’s and Carissa’s—horror. I wanted to die as I watched those vibrant eyes quickly scan the note. I knew when he got to my part, because his dark brows shot up his forehead.

He grinned, used his mouth to pop off the cap on his pen, and wrote something on the page. Groaning, I glanced at Lesa and Carissa. Lesa’s mouth was hanging open and Carissa’s cheeks matched mine. God, he was taking enough time.

Daemon finally folded the note and handed it back. “There you go, Kitten.”

“I hate you.” I snapped around—just in time, because the teach was scanning the classroom. When he went back to the chalkboard, I handled the note like it was a bomb. Slowly and carefully, I unfolded the damn thing.

And I died a little more.

That note would never, ever see the light of day again. I refolded the paper and shoved it in my bookbag, my movements stiff and my entire body enflamed.

Daemon chuckled.

…

For several days, Blake and I worked alone. Unsurprisingly, things were a lot smoother without Daemon’s threatening presence. With Blake’s coaching, I went from being able to move small objects for short periods of time to rearranging the entire living room with a single thought. Each time I was successful, Blake got all kinds of happy, and I tried to join in the revelry—because this was good—but there was always an edge of disappointment riding each accomplishment.

I wanted to share my successes with Daemon, and he wasn’t there.

Blake eventually moved on to harder stuff, attempting to teach me how to control the more powerful things through a horrible series of trial-and-error experiments. The first time I’d attempted to control fire ended up with what I swore were second-degree burns on my fingers.

He’d presented me with a series of white candles and my goal was to light all of them at once through concentration. I was allowed to touch each of them, and after several hours of staring at them with a seriously empty stomach, I’d managed to light one by picturing the flame in my mind and holding the image.

Once I had mastered that, I could no longer touch the candle. Instead I had to create the fire just by looking at it. Blake waved his hand over the candles, and all the wicks sparked a tiny flame.

“Easy peasy,” he said, and then ran his hand over them again. The flames went out.

“How did you do that—putting them out? Can the Luxen do that?”

He smiled at me. “They can only control things related to some form of light, right? So moving, stopping things, and fire are all right up their alley. They can generate enough energy to create electricity and fuel a storm.”

I nodded, remembering how it had stormed that day Daemon had returned from the lake and Mr. Garrison had been waiting for him.

“And it’s like pulling atoms from the air around us, so yes, they can create wind. We’re just stronger than they are at it.”

“You keep saying that, but I don’t understand how.”

He shrugged. “They have only one kind of DNA.” He paused, frowning. “If they have DNA. But let’s say they do for argument’s sake. We have two different sets of DNA in us. Like the best of both worlds.”

Not very scientific.

“Anyway, try it.” He prodded me with his knee.

I did exactly what I had done while holding the candle, but something went wrong.

My fingers lit up like the Fourth of July.

“Holy shit!” Blake jumped out of the way, pulling me along with him. Shock had set in as he dragged me into the kitchen and shoved my hands under a rush of cool water. It was the first time I’d heard Blake swear.

“Katy, I asked you to light the candle, not your damn fingers! It’s really not that hard. Jesus.”

“Sorry,” I mumbled as I watched my skin turn an ugly shade of pink and then red. It didn’t take long before the skin puckered and blistered.

“You may not be able to control fire or start it,” he commented, gently wrapping my fingers in a towel. “If you could, it shouldn’t have burned you. The fire would have been a part of you. But what that was? That was real honest-to-God fire.”

I frowned as my fingers throbbed. “Wait a sec. There’s a chance I can’t work with fire and you let me do that?”

“How else am I going to figure out your limitations?”

“What the hell!” I pulled my hand free, furious. “That’s not cool, Blake. What’s next? Trying to stop a moving vehicle by standing in front of it, but whoops, I can’t do that and now I’m dead?”

Blake rolled his eyes. “You should be able to do that. At least, I hope so.”

Disgusted with him, I went back to the candles. Needing to prove myself, I tried again and again. I couldn’t light the fire without touching the candles no matter how hard I tried.

The following morning I had to come up with a good excuse for my mom. It involved something stupid like placing my hand on a lit burner, but she believed me, and I even scored some weak pain pills.

Later that night, Blake explained that he’d never been able to heal anyone. When I asked when and why he’d been presented with the opportunity, he didn’t get a chance to answer. Warmth tingled over my neck and then a few seconds later there was a knock on my door.

I shot up. “Daemon.”

“Woo hoo.” Blake exuded so much false enthusiasm he could’ve been an actor.

Ignoring him, I rushed to the front door. “Hey,” I gasped, feeling hot and dizzy when I saw him. It never failed to amaze me how striking Daemon really was. “Are you helping tonight?”