Maybe he’d learn something.
Maybe he’d fuck off.
All that mattered was Leela and the buzzing connection between her and Balthazar.
And the past he longed to remember.
Chapter24
Balthazar
Luc knew exactlywhat B wanted to discuss. Something he proved by answering the phone with, “Did Patreel tell you about Nythos?”
Their discussion spiraled from there, taking a long visit down memory lane.
Only, Vera had apparently fixed Luc’s remembrance, allowing him to tell B his version of realistic events.
The sensual relationship between Nythos and Balthazar had been real.
But the blood sharing hadn’t been.
That’d been Nythos’s escape plan—a diversion to give her an opportunity to return to the Seraphim.
She’d never drunk from Aidan.
She’d never died and come back.
And Balthazar had never killed her.
His jaw clenched several times throughout their conversation, making his teeth ache. Luc explained that Leela and Nythos shared Adonis for a father. Both females had inherited his gift of sensuality, allowing Nythos to rival Leela’s grace in bed.
From what Luc guessed, Nythos had likely pulled memories that Balthazar possessed of Leela and either re-created them or bent his memories to see Nythos instead of Leela for several of the interactions.
So while he’d slept with Nythos, it might not have been as many times as he remembered.
Or it was exactly that many times, but the actions were all based on his prior relationship with Leela.
Both possibilities had him wanting to kill Nythos.
And everyone else involved in this mental mindfuck.
“How’s Leela?” Luc asked after a beat of silence from Balthazar.
He glanced at the female in question. She sat in the middle of the family area of the inn with a pair of dogs on either side of her. They’d all but mauled her upon arrival, their excitement palpable. Leela had fallen to the floor to greet them, her concerns vanishing beneath the fluffy weight of paws and sloppy tongues.
Apparently, they’d given her the emotional therapy she’d needed to pull the rest of her psyche from the grips of her earlier panic.
“She’s all right,” Balthazar said, standing closer to the back exit of the home. Patreel had chosen to remain outside. Or maybe he’d misted somewhere else. It was partly why Balthazar had kept Leela in his sights, just in case they needed to escape quickly.
Her lips curled as the dog with the shorter snout attempted to sit in her lap. The full-grown boxer mix—or maybe it was a Staffordshire terrier mix with that black-and-white fur—had to weigh sixty or so pounds. It most certainly was not a lapdog, but it seemed hell-bent on trying to claim Leela.
Balthazar understood the desire.
She had beautiful legs.
And she smelled divine, too.
“She’s currently being love-attacked by two dogs,” Balthazar added.
