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“Excellent. Shall we make a retreat?”
I downed the rest of the champagne, and felt its effervescence all the way down to my toes. “Let’s.”
He came around the counter and offered me his arm. I slipped mine through his, and he escorted me out of the building and across the road to his apartment. It was one of those grand old Victorians that Collins Street was famous for, and only five stories high, which meant his floor was at treetop level. The old lift rattled and shook as it swept us upward, then opened to reveal a vast room that was filled with building debris and smelled of paint and dust.
“Welcome to my palace.” He grinned as he caught my hand and guided me through the mess of dustcovers and workmen’s tools.
We walked through the remains of a wall into the kitchen area. It was very rudimentary. There was an oven, a fridge, and the bare bones of two small counters—one of which held the sink—but just about everything else had been gutted. Plates were stacked on the non-sink counter and a drawer that held cutlery sat on the floor near it. But the mouthwatering scent of roasting meat filled the air. I breathed deep, then sighed in contentment.
“God, I don’t think there’s a better scent in this world.” I crossed my arms and leaned against the free bench.
Lucian’s smile was wicked. “Oh, I can think of one or two. What would you like to drink? I have wine or champagne in the fridge.”
“Champers again, thanks.” I watched him pour the drinks, then asked, “So how did you actually find Lauren?”
He walked over to the oven and opened the door. Steam billowed, and the smell of roasting meat intensified. My belly rumbled happily. “I asked around, as I said. She was the only one willing to meet me. Us.”
I took a sip of champagne, enjoying the tease of bubbles on my nose. “So you’ve never met her before today?”
“No.” He hesitated, and looked over his shoulder. “Why?”
I shrugged. “It just seemed a little odd that you’d be in a place like that with someone you didn’t know for over an hour.”
“Well, I did have to explain the whole damn situation.” He paused, then said, “As an aside, did you leave your demon sword behind, as requested?”
I blinked at both the sudden change of direction and the fact that he couldn’t sense her. “You can’t tell?”
“I’m not sensitive to her magic, so no.”
I frowned. “I would have thought all Aedh would be sensitive to anything demon-related, given their traditional role of gate guardians.”
For a moment the darkness in his eyes was so intense it almost verged on insanity. It was gone just as quickly, but its mark remained, leaving me cold inside. It made me wonder why the hell I was spending so much time with him—what was the draw, beyond great sex? Why oh why did he have this incredible pull on me? Was it just a matter of Aedh calling Aedh? Or was there something else at work? Something deeper. Darker.
I really didn’t know, but I was beginning to suspect it might pay to find out.
“As I’ve mentioned before,” he said, “many things were ripped from me when they stole my wings and forever contained me in flesh.”
I forced a hand up and lightly caressed his cheek. “That doesn’t make you any less an Aedh in my eyes.”
He grinned, and the final remnants of darkness fled. “That’s because I’m still potent where it counts. Now stop avoiding the question.”
I hesitated. He couldn’t sense Amaya and—given that she was shadow-wreathed and little more than invisible particles right now—he certainly wouldn’t feel her, so I saw no reason not to lie. Especially since I still had that niggling, deep-down chill and more than a small suspicion that he wasn’t being honest with me. “Well, there was much protest from Azriel, but I did do as you requested.”
“I’m glad. And thank you for trusting me.”
A statement that only made me feel bad for not trusting him.
He closed the oven door and walked around to where I stood. His lips brushed the back of my neck, and then he said softly, “Dinner will be another hour, at least. What do you suggest we do?”
His breath teased my earlobes, and a delighted shiver ran through me. “How about we talk?”
“About what?” The sound of my shift’s zipper being slid down seemed to echo through the vast space around us.
“How about why it took an hour to update the dark sorcerer, for a start. We both know that’s a lie, Lucian.”
“Perhaps.” His fingers brushed my spine, and desire coursed through me. “These scars are new.”
“They’re a present from the Rakshasa I killed.” My voice held a slightly husky edge. I swallowed some more champers, but it didn’t do a lot to curb the rise of desire. And whether the fierceness of that desire was natural or not didn’t really seem to matter at this point in time. “Explain what you mean by ‘perhaps.’”
