by Jenna Black
“Okay. Now tell me about whatever bombshell you’re going to drop.”
I clenched my hands in my lap so tight I heard my knuckles crack. But there was no turning back now. “He wants Saul to be in that inner circle, too.”
Silence descended like a heavy winter fog, dense and thick. Adam’s face closed off entirely, not a hint of expression showing through his impassive mask. But I knew thoughts and worries were pinging back and forth behind that mask. At least, I hoped they were. They sure were having a field day in my head, and my own mask was far from secure. A tear trickled down my cheek.
Damn. I thought I’d managed to suppress them entirely. I wiped the single tear away and willed myself to stay calm as I waited for Adam’s inevitable answer.
This shouldn’t matter to me so much, I told myself. Yeah, I liked Dom and considered him a friend, but it wasn’t like we were super close. He wasn’t someone I’d turn to in times of trouble. But then, who was? I noticed I was grinding my teeth and forced myself to stop.
“The suspense is killing me,” I said, trying to sound dry and sarcastic. It didn’t work. I noticed Adam’s hands had clenched, the knuckles turning white. His mask wasn’t perfect after all. But he didn’t say anything.
Minutes ticked by—at least it felt like it—and the tension grew worse and worse. I suppose I must not have been as sure of Adam’s answer as I’d thought, or else why would I have been such a wreck?
When I finally couldn’t stand it anymore, I stood up and headed for the kitchen. A cup of coffee wouldn’t cure all that ailed me, but at least it would be hot and soothing and delicious. Adam remained un-moving on the couch while I went through the ritual of making a pot of coffee. Not until I’d poured a mug and started to doctor it did he leave the couch and come to join me in the kitchen.
“May I have a cup?” he asked. Whatever he was thinking or feeling, he was still keeping it off his face.
“I wish I knew how to do that,” I said, and I finally saw a hint of expression: bafflement.
“Huh? Do what?”
“Keep my face from showing how I feel. I’ve never seen anyone as good at it as you. I mean, Brian does good lawyer face, but he can’t do it under extreme duress—”
“May I have a cup of coffee, or not?”
Okay, so I’d been babbling. It wasn’t the first time. “Depends on whether you’re going to give Dominic up to Saul or not.”
He blinked. “It matters to you that much?”
I was seriously tempted to throw my scalding hot coffee in his face. I managed to refrain, but it wasn’t easy. “He’s my friend,” I said. “I don’t want to lose him to some demon I don’t know. Hell, I don’t want to lose him at all! He’s a truly good, decent human being, and he doesn’t deserve to be tossed aside!”
“I don’t want to lose him, either,” Adam said, his voice quiet, his eyes haunted.
“But you’ll give him up to your good buddy Saul anyway,” I said bitterly. I almost said something scathing about how he’d be able to practice his more sickening habits in the privacy of his own home once more, but for once I managed to think about my words before blurting them out. I might never understand how demons think, I might never be able to forgive Adam for giving up Dom, but only an idiot wouldn’t see how much the idea hurt him, and there was no point in making it worse.
Adam shook his head, and for the first time since I’d conveyed Lugh’s request, he met my eyes. “Not without a fight, I won’t.”
My jaw fell open, and I put the cup of coffee down before I dropped it. “You mean to tell me you’re not going to do what Lugh wants?”
He leaned against one wall of the kitchen, folding his arms over his chest in what might have been a defensive gesture. “I told you before. I like Saul. I love Dom.”
“Yeah, but you also told me once before that if you were put in a position where killing Dom would be the ‘right’ thing to do, you’d do it and not feel guilty.” And in telling me that, he’d made me see just how foreign demons could be, even though their psyches so resemble those of humans.
“Turns out that’s easier said than done.”
My opinion of him improved exponentially. I even poured him a cup of coffee, which he accepted gratefully. I guess he needed warmth and comfort, too.
“Just so we’re clear,” I said, picking up my own coffee once more, “you’re not going to tell Dom about Lugh’s request?”
Adam’s mouth tightened into a grim line. “I’ll tell him.” He held up his hand to stop the sharp retort that I’d been about to make. “He’s a grown man. It’s not my right to make this decision for him. If he wants to take Saul back, then I won’t stand in his way.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
I was still indignant over what seemed to be a change of mind on Adam’s part, and I was moments away from telling him exactly what I thought of him, when once again I managed to restrain a knee-jerk reaction. This was twice in one day, and I was beginning to think I might be gaining some maturity. What a concept!
Adam wasn’t hiding his expressions now, and I found I could read him easily. He’d give Dom the chance to take Saul back, because if he didn’t, he’d never know whether Dom would have chosen Saul over him. Was there, perhaps, a hint of insecurity under that usually arrogant facade?
“As long as you make it clear that it’s Dominic you want, not Saul, he’ll make the right decision,” I said, and I really believed it. Yeah, Dom was the hero type, but there was no question in my mind that he’d choose love over heroism, as long as Adam didn’t make it sound like he’d rather have Saul.
“Ah,” Adam said, “that’s why you asked whether I’d told him about my visits to Hell.”
I nodded. Better for Dom not to know about that, not to doubt that Adam was completely satisfied with him.
Adam scrubbed a hand through his hair and put his coffee down, having not taken a single swallow. “I’m going to go downstairs and question the security people.” One corner of his mouth lifted in his trademark sardonic grin. The expression was a bit off, but it was a valiant effort. “That’ll give me some time to pull myself together before I talk to Dom.”
“Good idea,” I agreed, though I wasn’t sure he was in the best frame of mind to do any investigative work right now. “Will you call me later? Let me know what happens?”
He nodded, but didn’t say anything. His poker face had definitely deserted him, and he looked worried and unhappy as he headed toward my door. It wouldn’t be at all unusual for him to leave without another word, and it wouldn’t be at all unusual for me to let him. But today I just couldn’t let him walk out like that.
“Adam?” I said before he’d gotten halfway to the door. He turned back to face me. He didn’t speak, just raised an eyebrow in inquiry.
An instinct I didn’t understand made me approach him and, to our mutual surprise, give him a hug. “It’ll be all right,” I said.
I felt ridiculous speaking words of comfort to Adam. I felt even more ridiculous hugging him. I don’t want to know what shade of red my face turned, and I released him so fast I’m sure it would have looked comical to the outside observer. I didn’t have the nerve to look at him, and I told myself that if he laughed, I was going to deck him and damn the consequences. But he didn’t laugh.
“Thank you,” he said softly, but I still didn’t have the courage to face him. He patted me awkwardly on the shoulder, his own unpracticed gesture of support.
My face was still burning, my eyes still fixed on the floor, when I heard the door close behind him.
Chapter 17
Apparently, even in the midst of his inner turmoil, Adam was an effective investigator. He learned that the two goons had gotten in by convincing Mrs. Schwartz, one of my building’s ubiquitous LOLs, that they were insurance agents. She’d met them at the coffee shop around the corner, and they’d followed her into the building like little ducklings. Mrs. Schwartz had then spent a half hour discussing her insurance needs with the two “c
harming” young men. They’d left her apartment at around five in the afternoon, which meant they’d been loitering around the building for hours before their quarry—me—had finally shown up. The security personnel were much more interested in who was coming in the building, rather than who was going out, so no one noticed that the goons had remained far longer than insurance agents would have.
They hadn’t been wearing the dark glasses when Mrs. Schwartz had brought them into the building, but once she vouched for them, neither the doorman nor the front desk clerk paid any attention to them. They barely even remembered seeing them, and certainly couldn’t give a reliable description. Mrs. Schwartz couldn’t either, on account of her cataracts. There was footage from the security camera in the elevator, but the goons must have been aware of it, for they were careful not to show their faces.
Adam had informed me of these meager details by phone on his way home to Dom. He’d then made a point of telling me he’d call me tomorrow, which meant I’d be spending the rest of the night sweating the results of their conversation.
I thought I’d have a lot of trouble falling asleep that night. I was wrong. I suppose sometimes pain and stress can make you toss and turn all night, and sometimes it can just exhaust you until you can’t keep your eyes open.
I doubt I got more than a couple of minutes of blissful, uninterrupted sleep before I “awoke” to find myself in Lugh’s throne room. I was seated on a short, hard chair at the base of the dais, looking up at Lugh on his throne. I guessed that meant I was supposed to be some kind of supplicant, but I doubt he was surprised that I rejected the role.
I stood up and mounted the stairs to the dais. It was easier this time than last, since he hadn’t bothered to dress me in period costume.
He was dressed once more in crimson velvet with gold accents, though I don’t think it was exactly the same outfit, just a similar one. Naturally, he looked good enough to eat, even if the throne and crown were just a tad off-putting. He sat ramrod straight, his gorgeous, chiseled face set in an expression I couldn’t read. I didn’t think he was happy. But then, neither was I.
“You rang?” I asked when the silence seemed to stretch.
“You’re angry with me.”
I shrugged. Of course I was angry with him. He’d forced me into this lame-ass “compromise” of his. I don’t take well to being forced into anything. But he knew all that, so I didn’t bother to say it.
“And you’re angry with me,” I said instead. “I suppose that makes us even.” I frowned. “Well, as even as we’ll ever be.”
He shook his head. No doubt he was wishing Raphael had chosen anyone else on the planet to host him.
“I won’t explain myself to you again,” he said, and there was a distinctly sharp edge to his voice.
“Ditto.”
He reached up, I think meaning to run his hand through his hair in frustration. At the last moment, he remembered the crown and stopped himself.
“As I’m sure you know,” I continued, “I’m really, really tired. Is there some vital reason we absolutely have to talk tonight? Because if not, I’d rather get some sleep.”
He seemed to think about that one for a while before he answered. “Actually, it’s not you I need to talk to. It’s Raphael.”
I let out a sound that I’m afraid was something like a squeak of alarm as I realized what he meant. I then put as much concentration as I could into trying to close my mental doors.
“Relax, Morgan,” Lugh said in what was probably supposed to be a soothing croon, but I think both our tempers were too brittle for soothing or being soothed. “I’d like us to work together to make this happen. You see, I’ve had an idea as to how we can ease your way into letting me take control when necessary.”
I probably shouldn’t have let him disarm me so easily. Maybe my exhaustion was affecting my mental processes in my sleep as well as during my waking hours. But whatever the reason, I stopped trying to struggle free of him. I didn’t, however, drop my guard.
“All right. I’m listening. Let’s hear this idea of yours.”
He rose slowly from his throne, towering over me. He always towered over me, but those red velvet shoes of his had a considerable heel on them, and I felt like I was straining my neck to meet his gaze. Instinct urged me to take a step back from this dangerous creature, but I fought it. Sure, he already knew he was intimidating me, but that didn’t mean I had to show it.
“I’d like to try staying in control while you wake up,” he said. “Through sleep, you’ve already dropped your guard enough to let me take over. Getting you to drop that guard is the key, so perhaps if you try not to fight me, we’ll be able to make that transition to wakefulness together.”
I realized with a bit of a shock that when Lugh had first started communicating with me, my subconscious had consistently managed to kick him out without any effort on my part. Now, unless I made a concerted effort to fight my way free, he could remain in control of my sleep for however long he wanted. I couldn’t help thinking that wasn’t a good thing, that I was slowly giving him more and more power over me. And I decided I didn’t want to wake up and find myself the passenger in my own body.
I started trying once more to close my mental doors.
“Don’t!” Lugh ordered sharply, and the look on his face now was pure steel. “We need to do this, and what you want doesn’t really matter. If you keep fighting me, you’ll find yourself in the oubliette.”
I gasped in shock, the sick sense of horror and betrayal in my gut momentarily derailing my efforts to wrest control from him.
“You promised you would never do that again!” I said, though the sound came out more like a wail.
Lugh’s face remained grim. “And you promised you’d learn to let me take control when the situation warrants it. Keep your promise, and I’ll keep mine. It’s as simple as that.”
At that moment, I think I actually hated him. Not so long ago, I’d liked him, started thinking of him almost as a friend. A very sexy friend, whom I had the reluctant hots for. What had happened to that Lugh, who’d been kind and gentle, and who’d seemed to care about me?
I didn’t say any of that out loud, but Lugh answered me anyway.
“Nothing has changed, Morgan,” he said in a much softer voice. “And I do care about you. More than you know. It’s just…” He blew out a sigh, and the throne room dissolved around us.
I felt a moment of intense disorientation. When it passed, we were no longer in the intimidating throne room. Instead, we were back in the cozy living room where we’d often talked before. And Lugh was back to what I thought of as his usual self. Gone were the crown and the red and gold velvet, and back were the tight black leather pants tucked into knee-high black boots and the plain black T-shirt that clung so appealingly to the muscles of his chest.
“Whether I’m here, or whether I’m in the throne room,” he said, “I’m still a king. As a king, I have to do things that, as a man, I’d prefer not to do.” He sat beside me on the butter-soft leather sofa. He took one of my hands in both of his, and it didn’t immediately occur to me to object.
“Please, Morgan,” he asked, and his eyes echoed that plea. “Please honor your agreement with me. We will disagree at times, and we will argue. That is inevitable given who we are. But we should choose our battles carefully. And this isn’t something we should battle over.”
I had the distinct impression I was being shamelessly manipulated, but there was no doubt he was wearing me down. Perhaps I was just too tired to care anymore.
“All right,” I said grudgingly. “I’ll do my best to let you stay in control as I wake up.” I frowned. “Though to tell you the truth, I’m not sure how to wake myself up without fighting you. The two have always gone hand in hand before.”
“No, not always,” he said cryptically.
“Morgan?” said a voice, one that didn’t belong to Lugh, one that seemed strangely distant.
My eyes locked with Lugh’s. That
sounded suspiciously like…
“Time to wake up,” the voice said again, a little less distant.
And this time, there was no doubting whose voice that was. It took every ounce of my willpower not to immediately start struggling against Lugh’s control as I realized what he must have done.
“Please don’t,” he said simply. “I had to talk to him, and I needed someone to wake you.”
I had a few colorful suggestions for him, but I didn’t fight his control. The living room dissolved, just as the throne room had. Only this time, when I opened my eyes, it was to look up into Andrew’s face as he gently shook my shoulder.
No, not Andrew. Raphael. And unfortunately, this time it wasn’t an illusion or a dream.
Chapter 18
I wanted to reach up and rub the sleep from my eyes, but Lugh didn’t seem to feel the same need. He pushed himself into a sitting position, then swung his legs out from under the covers. Raphael backed up to give him room.
“Am I speaking to Morgan, or Lugh?” Raphael asked.
“Lugh. At least for the moment.”
There was a chair in the far corner of my bedroom. It was too heavy to move easily, but that didn’t stop Raphael from dragging it over to face the bed and then sitting in it. Sometimes, it must be nice to have demon strength. Of course, I currently had it myself, and I’d just as soon have done without. I wasn’t used to letting Lugh control me like this, and all my primal survival instincts shouted at me to fight, to run, to do something to win my way free.
I felt Lugh’s muscles tense, then relax when I resisted the urge to struggle.
Was this what it was like for Andy? Could he feel everything Raphael did with his body, feel the coarse fabric on the chair’s upholstery under his hands while being powerless to move those hands? If so, how could he stand it? Could I really believe my brother was alive and well inside his body?