A Darker Past (The Darker Agency #2)(22)

“Aww. But I like your hands and lips.”

He shook his head and slid off the couch and extended a hand to help me up. With a smile that set the air on fire, he whispered, “As I said, dangerous.”

…

Mom and Dad got back around ten, just as Die Hard was ending. Lukas had a thing for action movies. Typical guy. Sadly, he was the perfect gentleman the entire time. He said good night—under the watchful eye of my dad—and promised to be back in the morning. We’d both been excited about the prospect of him moving from the office couch to an apartment of his own, but at times, like in the middle of the night when I couldn’t sleep, I wished he hadn’t left.

Sleep had been elusive lately, and when Lukas was still on the couch in the office, I used to go downstairs and sit up with him. Just talking. Add that to the stress of this new demon thing hanging over my head, and I could have used a good talking session.

Or maybe something else…

God. I needed to get my brain out of the gutter. The physical aspect of our relationship had taken leaps and bounds lately, and more and more, I found myself thinking about them. No. Not thinking. Obsessing. Daydreaming about what it’d feel like to peel away Lukas’s shirt and get a peek at the chiseled abs I’d only felt through cotton. Wondering how it would feel to have his hands skimming up my bare thigh. How I’d react if he removed my shirt…

Cold shower alert!

I pushed the covers aside and swung my legs over the edge. Smokey was snoring softly at the end of the bed, and when I hopped off the mattress, he shifted and started the subtle wiggle I knew would eventually land him on my pillow. I’d given up trying to stop him, and had a pile of extras stashed away in the closet. Just in case.

I made my way down the stairs and into the small kitchen area in the office. The one up in the apartment was too close to Mom’s room. I knew any noise I made wouldn’t wake her up—the woman slept like the dead—but I didn’t want to chance waking Dad. He hadn’t been around long enough for me to learn his sleeping patterns. As it turned out, though, it didn’t matter because he was up anyway.

“Can’t sleep?”

I whirled around. Dad was standing by the doorway, fully dressed. “Nah.” I grabbed a mug from the cabinet above the sink and wiggled it. “Was hoping some hot cocoa would help.”

Dad shook his head and stepped up to take the cup from me. Studying me for a moment, he said, “It won’t. Trust me. This happening a lot lately?”

“The not sleeping thing? Yeah, actually. I can’t seem to stay in dreamland. Probably doesn’t help that I’m failing math, either.”

He sank into one of the blue metal folding chairs at the table and gestured for me to do the same. The small card table we’d put in there took up a lot of space, but with Dad sitting in one of the chairs, the room looked even smaller. The guy was massive, with a close-trimmed goatee and several badass tattoos. Definitely not your typical Dad look. I secretly wanted him to join the PTA. That would have started chatter for sure.

He tapped the side of his head. “I’m sure stress is playing a part, but I think it’s more complicated than that. I think with some work, you can control that.”

“Control that? My insomnia is a that?”

“There’s not much to go on since, as far as I know, there’s never been someone like you, but I think your ability to shadow is what’s keeping you awake at night.”

“And that makes sense?”

“It does,” he confirmed. “Demons don’t need sleep. We can sleep, and while I personally find it enjoyable, it’s not necessary for our bodies to function. But that doesn’t mean our bodies don’t have other needs.”

“Oh my God.” I gasped. Nearly fell out of my chair, too. “Please tell me we aren’t going to have some twisted demonic sex talk.”

Dad blinked, then paled. “I—you can’t—really? That’s where you went with that?” His expression darkened, and he leaned forward, thumping both elbows on the small table. It wobbled and shook beneath his weight. Oh yeah. Dad had menacing down perfectly. I needed to take notes. “No. We weren’t, but I’m wondering if we need to?”

I cleared my throat. “Um, no. So, needs?”

Slowly, he leaned back. “As in, you’re half Shadow demon. You’re able to shadow, so I think your body wants to shadow. Needs to. At night when you’re trying to sleep and the lights are off, I believe it’s your body’s way of trying to get you to do something you should already be doing. How often are you shadowing?”

“Um, not that often.”

“What’s not that often?”

“Once a week, maybe?” He didn’t look impressed. “Why do I get the feeling that was the wrong answer…?”

“This is my fault,” he said, running a hand over his face. “We should have talked about all this before now. I’ve missed out on so much with you and your mom, and I’ve been trying to make up for lost time—”

“It’s okay, Dad.” A jolt of happy shot through me right then. I was sitting in the kitchen in the middle of the night talking to my dad. Not a rushed phone call or a five minute visit squeezed in between jobs. An actual no-limit conversation. We could sit here until dawn if we wanted, and there was no one stopping us. The giddy teenage girl in me took over for a moment, and before I could overthink it, I was out of my chair and wrapping my arms around him.