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Chapter Eighteen
Sebastian
Luciana stiffens against me. “My parents?”
“Yes.” I run one of my fingers along the edge of her collarbone and down over the tip of her shoulder. Her skin is luscious. “You said it was your mother who was a demon, but you lied. Why?”
“What makes you think I lied?” Her hazel eyes fixate on mine.
I shrug. “I’m a demon. I can tell if someone is lying.”
“Did you make me come just so you could ambush me with questions?” she giggles.
“You’re avoiding the question,” I whisper, meeting her gaze as I trace over the curves of her breasts this time.
She sucks in a breath and lets it out slowly, her gaze on mine the whole time. Her expression is conflicted, as if she’s debating something.
“I don’t think you’d believe me if I told you,” she finally says.
I chuckle. “Try me.”
I watch her as she stops and starts several times. “Neither of my parents are demons.” Her eyes flick back to mine and her hesitation falls away, replaced by a strange intensity. “I was actually given an experimental drug that turned me into a demon.”
Now it’s my turn to stiffen. “I—I didn’t know that was possible.” I shake my head. “You wanted to be a demon that badly?”
A crimson flush moves over Luciana’s cheeks, and I realize a moment later when her magic flares that it’s not embarrassment. She’s angry.
“I didn’t choose to take the drug. It was forced on me.”
I can’t find words for a moment, which is not something that usually happens to me. I’m having a hard time wrapping my head around what she’s telling me. “I’m so sorry. That’s terrible, if you didn’t want it.”
“I did not. I was abducted and held against my will for quite some time.” She pauses, her eyes searching mine. “You’re telling me you’ve never heard of anything like that?”
“No.” I shake my head and run a hand along her arm. “I’m sorry I brought it up. We don’t have to talk about it.”
“It’s fine,” she says, but she lowers her gaze and her aura goes distant, as if she’s pulling away from me.
“It’s not fine.” Now that my shock is wearing off, I feel my own rumble of anger. I want to know who did that to her, and I want to hurt them. But I can deal with that later—for now, I want to make up for causing her pain, for clearly having stirred up something traumatic. I sit up, pulling Luciana along with me. “Come on. I want to show you something.”
Her expression is wary, but she takes my hand and lets me lead her out of the room. We pass by one of the bathrooms downstairs, and I step inside long enough to pull two silk robes out of the linen closet. I hand one to Luciana. The midnight blue looks gorgeous against her skin tone and her hair. It makes me want to take it right back off of her again.
But I don my own robe and then take her hand again, leading her up a set of spiraling marble stairs to the second floor of the house. I look back at Luciana a couple times, watching her wide eyes as she takes in the luxurious details of the house. I’ve never invited a lover back here. I always have my trysts in the winery, or a hotel somewhere if I’m traveling. My house is my sacred space, the place only for me. Where I don’t have to put on a show for anyone, pretend to be something I’m not.
I’m not honestly sure why I brought Luciana here. I hadn’t even thought about it before I did it, just an impulse, an urge. But she’s here now, with me, and I don’t regret it.
When we reach the second floor, we head down the main hallway. At the far end is another set of steps leading to the third floor. There’s nothing on the third floor other than my personal suite: bedroom, sitting room, library, bathroom, and closets of course. Plus, naturally, a small temperature-controlled room for wine. I lead Luciana into the library, and then up one final flight of stairs.
We emerge onto the rooftop terrace at the pinnacle of my house. It’s paved with stone tiles in warm colors, and a Mediterranean-style garden runs around the perimeter. Lemon and lime trees, flowering vines, rosemary and succulents in brightly colored glazed pots. There’s a small fire bowl in the center which burns 24-7 thanks to an embedded fuel line. The flames flicker sienna and turquoise against the night sky.
But none of those things are the reason this is my favorite place in the world.
“Come over here,” I say softly, leading Luciana to the far side of the terrace.
We lean up against the stone railing. Beneath us, the vineyards stretch out almost as far as the eye can see. My vineyards. My land.
I slide one arm around Luciana’s waist. “See that?” I wave my hand at the landscape sprawling out before us. “This is the place where soil and sun and rain and time grow the vines that grow the grapes that turn into something people use to celebrate life.”
Luciana turns slowly and looks up at me. Her eyes spark against the night. “You are not at all what I expected, Sebastian Black,” she murmurs.
