37. Daemon

W hen I wake early the next morning, it takes me a few seconds to remember where I am, the light pouring in from the windows is almost blinding. Though when I turn over, I find Archer sleeping soundly beside me, the top of his brow set into a frown, as if something is bothering him, even while he sleeps. I know last night was a lot, and I still can’t believe I told him everything about my past. He now knows stuff I have never told anyone, not even Josh, and instead of running for the hills, he held me tighter than ever.

I don’t want to bother him, he must be exhausted, a fact only more evident when I sit up and he doesn’t even stir. I contemplate going back to sleep, but I am already wide awake and desperate for coffee. So, slipping out of bed silently, I pull on some sweats and head downstairs quietly, trying to find my way back to the kitchen in this ridiculous house.

When I finally reach it, I find Archer’s mom already sitting at the counter, staring out of the window with her own cup of coffee in hand, completely lost in thought. She doesn’t look as made up as she did yesterday, her face now bare of makeup and her hair is not done, but still looks beautiful in her cream dressing gown and matching slippers. I almost smile as I see her, so like Archer in every way. She whirls toward me when I step inside, her eyes instantly filling with tears, before she tries to hide them with a smile, but it isn’t the same smile I got yesterday. No, this one is filled with sadness and pity, one that I have seen countless times before from many different people, which can only mean one thing.

“Archer told you,” I say by way of greeting, and her shoulders instantly slump, as if relieved, but I can also see the panic in her stare.

“I overheard him talking with my husband last night,” she replies honestly, and I nod while looking to the floor, but I still hear her push off her stool and move toward me.

When she reaches me, I meet her stare, watching as one of her hands comes up slowly, as if searching for permission, before it gently finds my cheek. “I knew my son had found someone special, the moment he walked through the door when he was home for Thanksgiving,” she starts, and that funny, unfamiliar feeling is back in my stomach again. “He’s always been wild, he thrives on chaos,” she adds with a soft smile, before releasing my cheek and taking my arm to guide me towards the counter. “But I think you might know something about that,” she laughs knowingly, grabbing a cup and pouring me some coffee, gesturing towards the cream and sugar, but I shake my head. Then she sits beside me, turning towards me completely, and I should feel awkward and uncomfortable, I mean, I barely even know her, but for some reason she radiates comfort. “Yet recently, I’ve seen something in him, a change, like he’s more grounded, more focused, truly happy,” she sighs wistfully, like it’s all she’s ever wanted, and my throat thickens with emotion at the clear love she has for her children. Especially when her hand closes around mine and she adds, “You’re important to my son, Daemon, which makes you important to this family, and I don’t want you to worry about anything, you’re safe here.”

Tears burn the back of my eyes, and I swallow down the lump in my throat, taking a deep swig of my coffee to try and chase it away, but it doesn’t work. No one has ever offered me such kindness, without wanting anything in return, and I now see where Archer gets his big heart from.

“He’s important to me too,” I finally respond, and she eyes me over her coffee with a knowing smirk.

“I know, Sweet Boy, I know.”

We share the rest of our coffees in silence and by the time the rest of the house starts to stir, we are standing side by side and flipping pancakes. Aurora is first, her smiling stare still filled with so much innocence, and Everest is quick on her heels, watching her quietly, and when she moves, he follows her like a magnet. I watch them closely, but Aurora doesn’t seem to notice, and when Everest finally looks my way and sees me staring, his glare hardens. I offer him a smirk, knowing that look in his eyes better than he might think, and focusing back on the breakfast I’m making.

When Archer finally appears, he still looks tired, but when he finds me cooking with his mom, he smiles softly, erasing the distance between us in three strides. His lips find mine before I can stop him, and for once the heat inside of me has nothing to do with his presence, but the watchful stares I can feel upon us. For some reason, being watched by his family isn’t as erotic as I normally find voyeurism to be.

“Morning, baby,” he mumbles against my mouth, and as I pull back, I see no pity in his eyes about everything he heard last night. Instead, there is something else entirely, something I’m not sure I’m ready to hear, let alone feel.

“Morning,” I grunt back, pointedly glaring at him as if to say not in front of your family, but all he does is toss me a wink as he steals a strawberry from the chopping board and pulls away.

“Morning Mom,” he drops a kiss to her head, before moving to Aurora and ruffling her head. “Are we all set for the big night?” he asks, and his mom sighs as she passes me the spatula, once again picking up her phone.

“The caterers are already running late, one of the rides is currently broken, and the florist somehow mixed up red and white hydrangeas for roses.” It’s clear she is stressed that everything is not going to plan, but I watch as all three of her children share a conspiring look.

“Kat has already called in another catering company to help them, an engineer is on the way for the ride, and roses will look just as beautiful,” David purrs, as he strides into the kitchen, still dressed in last night’s suit. He heads straight for his wife, “Tonight is going to be perfect, my love, I promise,” he tells her, and the way she just melts into him is a sight to behold.

It’s clear how much they love each other, a foreign concept to me given how I grew up, but watching not just them, but Archer’s dad and his wife too, well, it’s really something. It’s clear they all have a great relationship with one another, despite the divorce, and I can’t help but wonder what my life would have been like if I grew up in a family like theirs.

When David turns his focus on me, I see something sharp and lethal in his stare, like he knows something I don’t. “Good morning, Daemon, did you sleep okay?” he asks, and I nod stiffly, flicking my stare between him and Archer, the latter watching me carefully.

“Yes, thank you,” I reply, still looking between them, and when I don’t elaborate any further, he smiles with a quick nod.

“Well all right then.” He drops another kiss to Claire’s head. “I need to shower and head into the office for a couple of hours,” he tells her, and she instantly narrows her eyes, as he pulls away.

“You’re not supposed to be working this week, remember? I thought you weren’t back in court until next week?” she scolds him, giving him that look that I presume wives give their husbands, and he smiles grimly.

“It’s just a new prospective client, it won’t take long,” he assures her, before turning towards Archer. “Arch, a word,” he adds, nodding his head toward the door, and Archer looks at me with a soft smile, before slipping off the stool and following his stepfather out of the room.

Everest looks between them and me, before he decides to follow, and I can’t help thinking I am missing something, but before I can ask, Claire is at my side once more. “Let’s get these pancakes dished up, we’ve got a busy day ahead, and it isn’t long before you and Archer need to be at the tailors,” she tells me, stroking my cheek once more making me pull my stare from the men who just left back to her, and I nod with a smile.

It isn’t long before they return, Archer saying nothing as he joins me back at the island, and I serve him up some pancakes.

“You good?” I finally ask him, forcing him to look at me, as he shovels food into his mouth, then I watch as he eyes his mom and sister, before lowering his voice.

“We fucked four times yesterday, and now I’m eating your delicious pancakes, I am more than good,” he tells me with a wink and I roll my eyes.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” I tell him, but he only shrugs, shoveling more of the pancakes into his mouth and ignoring me completely.

After that, we all enjoy a relatively quick breakfast. Claire’s phone pretty much rings nonstop, as she tries to finalize everything for tonight, and I can’t help but feel overwhelmed by it all, but looking at Archer and Aurora it seems they are used to it. Archer eventually clears our plates, throwing them in the dishwasher, before gesturing for me to follow him.

We both quickly get changed, and before I even have a chance to talk to him, we are rushing out of the house and heading to the fitting. The tailor shop is just as over the top as Archer’s house, filled with pretentious workers who seem to sense I don’t belong as soon as I step through the door, but the second Archer gives them his last name, we are ushered to a private room. Then multiple racks are dragged in, filled with a mixture of tuxedos and suits and I appraise them all with a frown.

“I thought this thing was a carnival, why the fuck do we need to wear a suit?” I finally ask, feeling utterly perplexed as I rifle through the racks, and Archer snorts a laugh.

“Trust me, when Claire Gray is involved, you will always be wearing a suit,” he replies, not seeming annoyed by that fact in the slightest.

“And you don’t find that completely over the top? This suit is five thousand dollars,” I snap in outrage. “That’s an absolutely ridiculous amount to spend on a suit.” I’m shaking my head at it all, but Archer only laughs again.

“If you think this is over the top and ridiculous, wait until you see the carnival,” he purrs in response, pulling a suit off the rack and thrusting it toward me. “Take this one, it will look amazing when I peel it off of you later,” he adds with a wink, and I grunt, snatching it from his hands, and readjusting myself as I head to try it on.

“I may have had a terrible childhood, but I’ve been to a fucking damn carnival, Gray, I know what to expect,” I shout over the dressing room door, and once again he snorts a laugh, but remains silent.

It isn’t until hours later, when we pull up at a grand manor with an array of fancy cars waiting in line to attend said carnival, that I understand his laughter.

I guess I definitely didn’t know what to expect.