Izzy worked at his other boot. She whispered, “I wish I could make a man purr like that.”
Lucifer was so relaxed, so unguarded, he spoke without thinking. “What? Godric doesn’t purr for you? Maybe you aren’t petting him in the right place.”
From the tense silence in the air, Lucifer realized that was far more coarse than was appropriate to speak out loud.
“I beg your pardon.” He opened his eyes. He didn’t know whom to apologize to first. “That wasn’t very gentlemanly. I didn’t mean to imply—”
Abigail’s eyes were sad, looking to her friend.
Lucifer drew his feet out of their hands. He wanted to curl into himself, to hide like a cat in the corner. He kept his voice low, as not to disturb the babies. “It was uncouth and too forward for such delicate ears. Abby, pretend I never said that. Izzy—”
“No, it’s just . . . we haven’t—we can’t.” Izzy swallowed. “Godric said it wouldn’t be right. His parents aren’t going to allow him to marry me. For one thing, I have no title or dowry. For another, it would only make trouble with the Verde Court once they realize I’m here, so it would be wrong to lead me into believing we can be more than friends.” The string stitched into her heart played a sorrowful note.
“Oh,” Lucifer said. “It looked like you were more than friends earlier. I didn’t mean to presume.” He didn’t mention the heartache between them.
“We are more than friends,” Izzy said. “We just aren’t lovers.”
“It’s complicated,” Abby said. “Love usually is.”
A baby gurgled, and Izzy shushed Abigail. “You’re talking too loud. You’re going to wake the babies.”
Lucifer’s respect for Godric grew, knowing that he cared about Izzy enough not to mislead her. He had been unjust to Godric for his past because of the follies of his youth, which truly weren’t that much worse than Lucifer’s—as Abigail had pointed out. Lucifer wished he could undo his rudeness earlier.
Izzy didn’t meet his eyes, her face full of regret as she removed Lucifer’s stocking and kneaded his foot. The stroking motion would have felt nice if he hadn’t been so uncomfortably aware that he hardly knew her, and she was touching him in front of Abigail. Her expression didn’t speak of lust, so he suspected that wasn’t her intention.
More of his unease melted away as Abigail took up his other foot and massaged him. Her hands weren’t as strong as Izzy’s, but tenderness suffused her and passed from her hands into him.
“Have I done something to warrant such pampering?” Lucifer asked.
“No,” Abigail said quickly.
That in itself was suspicious.
“You’re just depleted, and your affinity needs to be replenished.” Izzy rushed on without taking a breath. “I bet you aren’t used to being around so many people. That can be hard for healers. I’m not even a healer, and that happens to me too.”
He sensed the tightness in her chest, a discomfort that either came from a lie—or telling the truth. Perhaps she was still on edge about his comment regarding Godric.
He relaxed into the chair again, unable to fight the complacency washing over him. “I hope it isn’t too cheeky to make such presumptions, but I seem to have an alarming effect on women. The two of you aren’t trying to seduce me, are you?” He eyed Abigail. “This time without a potion?” This time, using his weakness against him.
“You’re the last person I would want to seduce.” Izzy laughed, and a baby stirred.
“Oh,” Lucifer said, trying not to let the sting of the insult affect him.
Izzy hushed her voice. “You do realize we’re related. We’re second cousins twice removed. And you served as my midwife. It just feels wrong to think of you like that.”
“I see.” He did feel better.
Abigail left his foot and went around the chair to rub his shoulders. He sank into bliss as she worked on his tight muscles. He would have been able to melt into the oblivion of touch if it hadn’t been for the quiver in Izzy’s hands as she untied his cravat. The tension in her reminded him something about this situation wasn’t quite right.
Their attentiveness was more distressing than the wood nymphs who had given him a bath. At least with them he could send them away, and he didn’t have to see them again. Whatever game Abigail had in mind was going to leave someone hurt.
The pit of Abigail’s belly somersaulted. Izzy unbuttoned the two top buttons of his shirt. Abigail’s fingers were so slight and deft against the muscles of his neck, he almost missed what she intended.
He wouldn’t have known she was about to steal the vial he’d hidden with her soul inside, except that the anguish carried inside her body gave her away when she saw it. She tugged at the cord holding the vial over his heart.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
As Thick as Thieves
Abigail’s nerves jittered around inside her, giving away her intentions—if the tug on the cord holding the amulet already hadn’t.
Lucifer clamped a hand over her wrist. “No, Abby.” He twisted to see into her face.
Anger mingled with fear in her eyes. “It’s my soul.”
He considered that conversation he’d overheard earlier. “And what would you do with it? Let it go?”
“Maybe.” She drew her hand away.
“I went to the underworld to fetch your soul. Do you have any idea how long I worked for that?” Every moment of his waking life for the last two years had been to improve her situation. First it had been to wake her and then to restore her soul. “Do you have any idea how shortsighted this plan of yours is? If you have enough of a soul inside you to not be selfish, then you might know you’re being unreasonable.”
Izzy hushed him.
“No, you’re the one being selfish.” Her voice rose. “I didn’t ask you to save my soul.”
A wail pierced the silence of the nursery.
“Oh fie!” Izzy rushed to a cradle. She lifted a crying baby just as another one burst into tears.
She uttered a spell, her voice turning into honey and music, the notes a caress against Lucifer’s skin.
He understood why Abigail wanted to seduce him now. It wasn’t about love or lust. She simply had intended to distract him to get the bottle. She’d told Felix it was about survival to her. She was unscrupulous without a complete soul. She would stop at nothing to get her way, just as a child without a conscience saw no moral quandary about lying to get a cookie.
He stood, wanting to leave. He would have if it hadn’t been for the guards posted outside. If he’d had more energy, he would have pushed his way out of the room, or at least transported himself. But he had expended too much energy on shielding himself earlier. He wasn’t ready for advanced magic.
“Fetch my brother,” Lucifer told the guards. “I want to leave. Right now.”
Two men dressed in leather armor inlaid with floral designs exchanged amused smirks.
The taller guard inclined his head at Lucifer. “He said you would say that, but he doesn’t want you leaving until you’ve had ample time to face your demons.”
His demons? Was Abigail his demon?
The other guard shrugged indifferently. “Also, I think he’d prefer you didn’t try to steal any more treasure tonight.”
Lucifer returned to the nursery. Izzy turned her back on him and bounced a baby. Abigail at least had the decency to look apologetic.
“I will not put up with you casting spells, giving me potions, or using my magic against me to try to trick me.” He kept his voice quiet enough not to disturb the babies. “If you want me to treat you like someone with a soul inside her, you’d better start acting like it.”
A pink flush crept up her neck. Her lips pressed into a stubborn line. “I suppose that’s fair.” She unclenched her fists and then let out a long breath.
He didn’t believe her, not when there was that knot still coiled so deeply in her chest, a spring of a feral animal about to pounce.
“Promise me you won’t try to steal the vial from me again.”
She shrugged. “Fine. I promise.”
He didn’t believe her for a moment. “And the weaving we made. You won’t try to steal it or destroy it.”
Izzy cleared her throat, a hint of warning there, though whether it was meant for him or Abigail, Lucifer couldn’t tell. He supposed the other woman wasn’t just Abigail’s roommate and babysitter, but her friend. She wouldn’t have agreed to Abigail’s scheme to steal the books—or to try to steal the amulet—if she hadn’t been so loyal to her.
Abigail looked from him to Izzy uncertainly. Izzy gave the slightest shake of her head.
“Give me your word,” he said.
He had read spells like Wiseman’s Oath in Baba’s books, but they were complex and required incantations. He didn’t have the skill or strength—especially if he botched it up and had to undo a pox he accidentally gave them both. After his hex on Godric, and his well-intentioned plan that had gone askew, he didn’t particularly want to risk something with dire consequences. It was likely Abigail would break her word. He didn’t want to inflict pain on her even if she did.
He took her hands in his. “If you love me, then you’ll be honest with me. We can talk our way through our problems and not be devious. Does that seem reasonable?”
She nodded.
He kissed her fingers. “Promise me no more potions, spells, or tricks.” He stared into her eyes, allowing his affinity to slip into his voice.
She sucked in a breath. He had often willed himself to keep the incubus side of himself from influencing Kelsie and bending her to his whims because she had so fervently hated what his magic had done to her. He didn’t like using his affinity on Abigail either, but she had been the one to start this trend tonight.
She leaned forward. “I promise. I’ll promise you anything.” She tipped her chin upward, standing on tiptoes to reach him.
He planted a quick kiss on her lips. “I just want us to be honest and fair.” He would have kissed her again, but he truly didn’t want to use incubus magic on her.
It was bad enough he was a hypocrite, and he knew it.
“Uh-huh. Honest and fair,” Izzy muttered in disgust.
Apparently she understood enough about her own affinity to know what he was doing.
Lucifer ignored Izzy and kissed Abigail more deeply. He tried to cement her promise into his kiss. He knew it could be done, but it wasn’t like spell work with words or infusions of the elements to fuel an oath. It was his affinity magic, powered by touch.
He drew back after a moment, smoothing a curl away from Abigail’s neck. He couldn’t tell if the spell had worked, or if what he had done might even be considered a spell.
She gazed at him hopefully. “I’ve been waiting for you to kiss me like that all night.”
He planted another kiss on her lips. That one wasn’t for the sake of binding her to her word, but because he wanted to show her he was willing to kiss her without magic. He did care about her and want her to be happy. She laced her arms around his neck and kissed him back.
The door opened, and another woman entered, carrying two plates heaped with food. She was dressed in the same gray as Izzy, but she was older. She looked from Izzy to Abigail in surprise.
Lucifer released Abigail, but she didn’t let go of him.
Izzy grimaced. “It’s time you two went to the other room. You can get things figured out without an audience.”
Abigail took his hand, showing him out to a short hall between the nursery and the next room. It was a small bathroom with a changing table and a sink large enough to give a baby a bath. The shower was small and enclosed in its own space. It wasn’t fancy like the guest room he’d been in earlier. There wasn’t even a mirror. This was more like a servant’s bathroom.
Abigail set out a wooden toothbrush for him. She smiled at him shyly. “Let me know if there’s anything else you need to make yourself more comfortable while you’re under house arrest.”
He wondered whether she knew she was the comfort he craved. She left him alone and went in the other room. Lucifer brushed his teeth and refreshed himself. He found Abigail alone in her room a moment later. She sat at a vanity, removing the pins from her hair. Her reflection smiled at him as he hesitated in the doorway. He still felt on edge from earlier about her multiple attempts to deceive him.
Felix was right that they had some sorting out to do.
There were two beds in the room. He suspected the one with the blanket embroidered with pink roses was Abigail’s. Even if Lucifer hadn’t been told this was her room, he would have known. Painted embellishments of budding dog roses decorated the white vanity where she sat and the matching dresser. Bouquets of wildflowers were set out on the nightstand between two beds. Potted plants lined the windowsill. A strawberry plant hung from the ceiling, the vines spilling over the edge like a waterfall. She’d strung up dried bouquets of lavender, rosemary, and thyme in lines along the wall, making her room resemble a hedge witch’s cottage. Woven baskets dangled from hooks on the walls.
So much of the Abigail he remembered was in this room that it felt familiar. At the same time, he wasn’t completely comfortable walking into this alien world he hadn’t ever been part of. They were alone, but there was no door that separated them from the short hallway to the nursery where Izzy and the other nurse remained with the babies.
He nodded to the baskets hanging from hooks. “Did you make those?”
“Most of them. I’m afraid they aren’t very good.” She turned in her seat, her gaze flitting across the wall of baskets. “Clarissa said I had too many, and I was crowding Izzy out of our room, so I had to get rid of some. Clarissa told me a true artist wouldn’t give people the ones with blemishes, but I couldn’t bear to throw them away, so I kept the ugly ones.” She frowned at that.
He examined one on the wall. The gaps were slightly uneven, but it was a perfectly usable basket. He didn’t think she sounded completely selfish and heartless if she was willing to give away her best pieces, but that might have been Clarissa’s influence.
She lifted a small woven cup made of cherry bark from the vanity containing hair pins. “This is my best piece. I had to keep this one.”
The strips of bark were so slender and uniform he would have believed it had been manufactured rather than created by an artist. Even the lumpy ones had a certain charm, but this one was perfect.
“You’re very skilled,” he said.
She beamed at the compliment.
“And you’ve always been generous.” In the Morty Realm, she had grown zucchini and picked blackberries to give them to the neighbors. She canned tomatoes and cucumbers and shared them with family and friends.
Her smile faltered. “Me? Or her?”
He could better understand her earlier—and current—resentment now that he’d eavesdropped on her conversation. He tried to remember if this Abigail was as charitable as the old one. “You always shared your cookies with me, even the good ones Kelsie made that didn’t have to be dunked in tea. I never made you give flowers to Baba, but you did. You have a generous soul—the new you and the old one.”
He sat down on the bench beside her. She scooted over and made room for him.
“I know you don’t think you’re the same person as the other Abigail, but I think you are.” He placed a hand on her back, drawn to her warmth.
She continued to unpin her hair. She didn’t look at him. He supposed he’d said the wrong thing.
One of the pins fell to the floor. He stooped to pick it up and placed it into her woven cup. “Do you need assistance with your hair? I can get the back.”
“I don’t really need your help.” She batted her eyelashes playfully. “But I won’t object.”
Lucifer plucked hairpins from the remaining curls. Auburn locks tumbled down her back in waves. He’d always been fond of the autumn colors of her hair and her personali
ty of springtime.
He kissed the top of her head and massaged her scalp. She closed her eyes and leaned against him as he worked. The serenity that flooded through her couldn’t have been stronger if it had been his own. He wanted to luxuriate in the feel of her body reveling in his touch, but there was so much that needed to be said. Tonight had been unexpectedly difficult for them both.
“Felix wants us to sort things out between us,” he said by way of introduction. Felix wasn’t the only one. Lucifer wanted to resolve things.
She lifted a hairbrush and ran it through her hair. “There isn’t anything to sort out.”
“I think there is. You did try to drug me.”
“Felix said the right thing to do would be to apologize.” Heat sparked in her tone. “I suppose you expect me to feel bad. You’re waiting for me to beg for your forgiveness.”
“No.” He was surprised by her sudden anger. “There isn’t much use in demanding an apology from someone who doesn’t want to give one. I’d rather have your sincerity than a lie.”
“I’m not going to apologize. I didn’t do anything wrong.” She waved her hairbrush at him. “It was the only way you would forget I wasn’t her long enough that we might have a nice evening together. I just wanted to know you would be honest with me. I wanted to help you let your guard down long enough for you to show you’re capable of loving me. If you do.”
“I do.” He thought he did, but he was more uncertain than ever. After the events of the evening, he didn’t know whom he loved more. The memory of Abigail or who she was now? “Magic isn’t the only way I’m capable of showing you my feelings.”
She tossed her hair in his face. “Getting you drunk seemed far less honest. At least I could control the effects with a potion.”
“I didn’t mean alcohol. Or drugs. Or magic.” He leaned down and kissed her cheek. “I meant, talking about our feelings. Being honest with each other can be very . . . sexy.” He trailed his mouth across her jaw, tasting the sweetness of her skin. She was more intoxicating than wine. He hoped he wasn’t making a mistake. He didn’t want to reward her for her earlier bad behavior. At the same time, he understood that craving to be loved and cherished through touch.
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