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He’d saved me from Russians, but would he save me if Raphael wanted my Brennan head on a platter?
“How are you even carrying me?” I mumbled, refusing to answer his question. “I saw you get shot. Don’t tell me it takes a special kind of bullet to take out the devil.”
The glint in his eyes from earlier that evening in the church returned. “It takes more than a flesh wound.”
He left me longing to decode every nuance in his expression as he carried me back to the mansion and through the doors. The warmth inside helped ease the tension in my body, and I felt myself melt in his arms.
He dipped his head, his breath kissing my temple. A different kind of shiver shimmied down my spine.
Lucifer’s Irish brogue thickened. “If Raphael knew ...”
My eyes found his, bringing our mouths hazardously close to each other.
A sigh flittered through my lips, and for a fleeting moment, I wondered if we were still talking about my contraband.
A loud throat cleared. Lucifer’s head reared back, and his feet came to a halt.
“Either this is the second time you’ve had my fiancée in your arms tonight or I’m mistaken.” Raphael tsked without humor. “Which is it? You’ll need to refresh my memory. Though I’m fairly certain it’s the former. I seem to recall Sosanna saying something about you carrying my betrothed to her bedroom earlier this evening.” Raphael’s eyes were charged with confrontation and something else—something like hurt. But that wouldn’t make sense. He prowled toward us. “Perhaps you shouldn’t make a habit of it.”
Dread lined my stomach.
“Perhaps your future bride needs a map ... and some proper clothing.” The words of rebellion rolled off Lucifer’s tongue. He extended his arms and severed whatever had just existed between us.
And just like that, I was in the embrace of the man who’d been mistaken as the celestial twin. Given the circumstances, it was the right decision, but that didn’t mean I had to like it.
Raphael took a long moment to study me, then pressed his lips to my forehead. “Did Lucifer warn you about being careful at night, darling?” he murmured against my skin.
I looked up through my lashes to find a mask of superiority. He flashed a smile that was all teeth, and I was pretty sure I noticed some canary feathers stuck in there. Raphael’s objective was clear, and I wasn’t about to indulge him or his sick mind games.
I lifted my chin. “I’ve never been afraid of the dark.”
“You may want to rethink your naive sense of bravery, dear Willa ... especially if you venture near the staircase at night.”
I couldn’t bear to be in the same room as Lucifer while Raphael reveled in his brother’s pain. I squirmed, but he held me tighter.
“Enough,” he ordered with enough bite that my body stilled. Fighting was useless. I had to ride this out. He turned to Lucifer. “I’ll tend to my fiancée’s needs from here. Wait for me in the study.”
Despite all my bravado from seconds ago, anxiety found me. Katarina hadn’t given me enough drugs to endure an antagonized and spiteful Raphael alone with me in my bedroom.
Unarmed.
The next few minutes passed in a blur of dissociation until I heard Raphael’s cool voice washing over me again. “Our mother died right here on this very spot when Lucifer and I were seven years old.” He searched my face for a reaction.
I blinked twice, crawling out of my fear stupor.
Raphael’s fingers dug into my thigh and arm, but I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing how badly it hurt. I’d just add the bruises to my collection. Between Aiden, Cillian, some recently departed Russians, and my charming fiancé, I’d be decorated in shades of blue for weeks.
He lowered his gaze to the three-foot-high Virgin Mary statue I passed every time I traveled the main stairwell. “My beautiful, perfect mother, the love of my father’s life, took a devastating fall down these stairs one night, Willa.” His Adam’s apple flexed against the tight knot of his tie. “My mother wasn’t afraid of ... the dark ... either.”
I knew Lucifer had been on the tip of his tongue.
“So, you see,” he continued, “given my personal experience, I’ve come to realize the disadvantage of growing up motherless.”
My breath stuttered.
Raphael Flynn was a monster on a mission tonight, revealing himself in the process.
“It’s an unbearable pain that I wouldn’t wish upon my worst. Fucking. Enemy,” he bit out, barely above a whisper.
