My gaze drifted to my bedroom door.
Did my mom know about the Arum and healing?
The moment that question entered my thoughts, I squirmed with unease, because of course she did. I knew she did. She worked for the Daedalus, but she conveniently left out the whole part about healing humans and a whole other alien race when she’d told me about it.
What else was she keeping secret?
I snatched a thick bobby pin off my nightstand and gathered up my hair, twisting it into a bun and then shoving the bobby pin in. I started to grab my laptop again when a text came through.
Are you awake?
It was that unknown number again, and my lips parted on a soft inhale. It was Luc. One of these days I just might add him as a contact. I sent a quick yes back to him.
I jolted. Incoming? What the hell did that mean? I lifted my head, clutching my phone—
A rapping came from my bedroom window.
“No way,” I whispered, eyes wide.
The sound came again.
I scurried off the bed, then briefly glanced at my closed door before I rushed around the bed. No way was Luc outside. It was impossible to get up to my window. No trees and only a small roof over the bay window. The only thing that could’ve gotten up there was a pterodactyl . . . or someone who wasn’t exactly human.
Which would be Luc.
Or the psycho Origin.
I drew back the curtain and gasped.
Crouched on the small roof was most definitely not a pterodactyl.
Luc grinned like he wasn’t perched outside my bedroom, and when he spoke, his voice was muffled by the thick glass. “Knock, knock.”23
I gaped at him through my bedroom window in a state of suspended disbelief. This had to be a weird dream, one induced by psychotic Luxen and weird Internet searches.
Luc lifted a hand. “I brought you a Coke. A nice, fresh Coke.” And he had. He was holding a red-and-white can in his hand. “Not a Pepsi.”
My heart sped up. What in the world?
Luc waited, his face lit only by the moonlight. Mom was going to flip out if she came home and caught him here. Wait. Was I seriously considering letting him in?
Which meant I’d officially taken a left turn into Baddecisionville, population: Evie. Cursing under my breath, I unlatched the window and shoved it open since I hadn’t set the house alarm yet. “Are you out of your mind?”
“I like to think I was never in my mind,” he replied. “Can I come in?”
I stepped back and extended an arm. “You’re already up here.”
A wide smile broke out across his face and then he came through the window, landing gracefully and silently. I, on the other hand, would’ve fallen right through the window, likely face-first. He straightened, offering the Coke. “I’m a very special delivery boy.”
I took the can of soda, careful that our hands didn’t touch. “Yeah . . .”
Standing as close as we were, it was hard not to acknowledge how tall he was, how he seemed to take over. My room wasn’t small, but with Luc in it, the space didn’t feel big enough. His presence overwhelmed the room as he turned in a slow circle.
Thank the Lord I was wearing a pair of leggings and a super-baggy shirt, because I was amazingly braless at the moment.
He plucked up my left hand and lifted my arm. “How is it feeling?”
“Almost perfect.” I slipped my hand free and stepped back. “I know you said not to thank you, but thank you for . . . fixing my arm.”
Luc didn’t say anything for a long moment. “It could’ve been worse.”
Knowing that was true, I folded my arms across my stomach.
“He hurt you because of your . . . association with me,” he continued, his eyes churning restlessly. “He will pay dearly for that.”
I was chilled by his words; I knew that was a promise.
Luc turned and walked away.
“What are you doing?” I whispered as he headed to his left, running his fingers over the spines of the books haphazardly stacked on the built-in shelves next to my dresser and TV. “If my mom catches you here, she will shoot you. Like legit whip a gun out of a pillowcase and shoot you.”
He grinned. “She would.”
My mouth dropped open as I threw up my hands. “And that doesn’t concern you?”
“Not really.” He pulled an old, tattered book off the shelf. His brows rose as he read the title. “Claimed by the Viking?”
“Shut up.” I stalked over to him and snatched the book out of his hand. I put it back on the shelf. “My mom is—”
“If you were so worried about your mom, you probably shouldn’t have let me inside.” Luc picked up another book, this time a thin hardcover on photography. He quickly grew bored with that, and placed it back. “But alas, your mom isn’t home.”