“What?” Dee shrieked.

Dawson winced. When he opened his eyes, she was standing straight up on the bed, eyes wide and hands shaking. He sat up. “Dee, it’s okay.”

“How can it be okay? Humans can’t know about us! And what about the DOD and—”

“Dee, sit and get a grip. Okay?” He waited until she settled back down. Her whole body was vibrating. It happened whenever she got excited or upset. “I didn’t tell her on purpose.”

Her head cocked to the side. “How did you accidentally let it slip? ‘Oh, by the way, I’m an alien. Let’s kiss’?”

Huh, she had it backward.

“What happened?” she demanded.

“I’m not sure you want to know the details.”

“Did you guys have sex? Because that’s pretty much the only thing you won’t tell me, which I do appreciate, and on second thought, don’t answer that question. It was gross.”

“No. We didn’t have sex.” He choked on his laugh. “Geez, Dee…”

She rolled her eyes. “Then what happened?”

Rubbing his temples, he glanced at the door. “Bethany and I were making out and something happened that’s never happened before.”

Dee leaned back. A look of supreme disgust clouded her pretty face. “Uh, yuck if this is about any kind of premat—”

“Oh my God, shut up and listen, okay?” He dragged a hand through his hair. “We were making out, and I lost my hold on my human form. I lit up like a freaking Christmas tree.”

His sister’s mouth dropped open. “No shit…”

“Yeah, and she saw me. I had to tell her, because it’s not like I could hide after that.”

Dee blinked several times. “Wait. Rewind. You lost hold because you were kissing?”

“Yep.”

“Wow.” Another emotion washed away the disgust. Something he couldn’t place and probably didn’t want to. “You must really, really like her.”

“I do.” Dawson smiled then, unable to help himself. He was such a dork.

“I’ve never been kissed like that.”

There went his smile. “You better not be kissed like that. And I don’t want to hear about it if you do.”

“Hey, it’s caring and sharing time, right?”

“No.”

She waved her hand, dismissing him. “What did she do?”

Dawson explained how well Bethany handled it once she got over her expected shock. Respect filled his sister’s eyes. Any Luxen could appreciate a human’s understanding of keeping this on the down low, and if he believed that Bethany would, Dee seemed to trust that.

“Wait. Is she glowing?” She whispered the last bit, as if saying it out loud was some sort of sin.

Dawson nodded. “A little bit.”

“Oh, man. Daemon is going to kill you.”

“Thanks. That helps, Dee.”

“Sorry.” She lifted her hands. “But once he sees her, yeah, not good.”

Dawson leaned against the headboard, running his hands down his face. Dammit, it wasn’t good. Not by a long shot. Who cared about Daemon killing him? Bethany was glowing. He’d left his proverbial mark on her.

And that would draw an Arum right to her doorstep.

…

Staring at a blank stretch of canvas on Sunday, Bethany held a paintbrush in one hand and her other was busy feeling her lips — lips that had touched Dawson’s. Gosh, he’d kissed her as if he’d been starving, leaving her dizzy and breathless.

He’d left a little while ago, just before supper. They hadn’t kissed again. Explaining that he wanted to wait until the trace faded before he attempted it, their time together had been Disney Channel — approved. But they had cuddled a lot, and that had been just as good as kissing, in her book. Just being next to him, with his arms around her, made her heart race, her nerve endings firing left and right.

Amazingly, the entire time she’d been with him, she really hadn’t thought about what he was. Sure, now that he was gone, she couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Dawson was an alien.

The whole town was populated with them, apparently. It was all so…out of this world.

Bethany smirked.

She placed the brush back on the little table butted up against her dresser and stood. Moving to the window, she brushed the thick curtain aside. Dusk had turned the bare trees gray. Leaning her flushed forehead against the cool windowpane, she closed her eyes.

The room — everything — felt cold without him there. It had to be the heat he threw off. Or it was just him and how he made her feel. Girly melodrama, but it was true.

Pushing away from the window, she resisted the urge to text or call him. But she was worried for him. Tonight he was telling Daemon that she knew. If he didn’t, Daemon would apparently see this trace around her tomorrow. Better to have his brother spaz out in the privacy of their home instead of in the middle of English class.

She seriously hoped Daemon didn’t kill Dawson. She’d grown fond of the boy.

Trying not to obsess over it, she forced herself out of the room, away from the phone. Downstairs, her mom was in the kitchen. Big surprise there. Dad sat at the table, looking over documents while Phillip turned his mac ’n’ cheese into finger food. She steered clear of him and went into the living room.

Her dad highlighted a portion of the document. “Look who finally came out of her room to join the living.”

Bethany made a face. “Ha. Ha.”

At the stove, her mom turned around, a baking sheet full of cookies in hand. “Honey, can you check on your uncle and see if he wants something to eat or drink?”

“Sure.” She turned around and headed into the living room.

Uncle Will was sitting on the couch stiffly, looking exhausted. The days leading up to his treatment were always the worst. From what Bethany gathered, the steroids given along with his medicine wore off fast.

“I heard your mother,” he said before she could utter a word. His voice was weak and raspy. “If I’m thirsty, I know where the fridge is.”

Bethany focused on the TV. One of the Godfather movies was on. “I can get you—”

“I’m fine.” He waved his hand. It looked paper-thin and white. “Sit down. I never really get to talk to you.”

Chatting with her uncle was the last thing she wanted to do, and she felt terrible for that. But she never knew what to say. Uncle Will liked to pretend he wasn’t knocking on death’s door, and Bethany sucked at making small talk. Avoiding his sickness was like ignoring a giant ape climbing the walls and throwing bananas.

She sat in the recliner, tucking her legs under her as she frantically searched for something to say. Luckily, Uncle Will started off the conversation.

“So, how long have you been seeing that boy?”

Her mouth dropped open. Okay, so maybe she wasn’t that lucky. After Dawson had left, her parents had interrogated her about him. Again. “We’re…just friends.”

“Is that so? I haven’t…” His words ended in a body-racking cough. Impossible as it seemed, he was even whiter. When the episode ended, he closed his eyes and cleared his throat. “I haven’t really seen him with any other girls. His…his family sticks together.”

Oh, boy, Uncle Will had no idea. “Yeah, they seem really close.”

“Good kids, I guess. Never really get in trouble.” He fiddled with the patchwork quilt draped over his legs. Their outline was thin. “Can’t tell them apart, though. Which one was here?”

It was funny to her — how no one could tell Dawson and Daemon apart. “It was Dawson.”

He nodded. “Ah, Dawson…good choice.”

She frowned. “Do you know him?”

He shook his head. “Not really, but he seems the friendlier of the two…whenever I’ve seen them in town. Have you been to his house? Met his parents?”

Her frown deepened as she stared at the screen. Of course, her uncle was pulling the protective role, but it made her uncomfortable to be questioned about Dawson. An immediate, almost irrational urge to protect him and their secret rushed to the surface.

“They work a lot out of town, but I hear them on the phone sometimes.”