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I tensed when I saw the five men standing at the edge of the porch, wearing suits and holding champagne flutes in their hands.
Higher demons, and one of them was Prince Paimon of the underworld.
My father.
Each time I was near him, I expected a kernel of recognition, a memory to flash behind my eyelids. A feeling to come back to me.
Nothing. I had nothing.
But he saw Ivy and me returning and he smiled at us. Because he was a higher demon, he looked young for his age—midforties—when in truth, he was thousands of years old.
Since I first laid eyes on him, I had been tense around him. The man was tall and well posed, exuding power and confidence from every pore.
I felt small and silly next to him.
But he had been nothing but patient and caring since I woke up.
I gave him a little wave, and Ivy nodded her head at him, before taking us to the side where a full bar was. This mansion was incredible. A modern structure with lots of white and glass, and some wood and metal details. It had a formal living room, a family room, a formal dining room, a breakfast room, a fully equipped kitchen where ten people could cook without bumping into each other, three sets of stairs, a library, two offices, a dozen suites, and in the basement, a gym and training room. Not to mention the extensive gardens, the pool house on the other side, the six-car garage, and the maids and cooks and employees the mansion required.
Ivy had told me she bought it three years ago. About two years ago, our father moved in, and a year ago, I did.
“Here.” Ivy handed me a flute with champagne. She grabbed another one and touched mine with hers. “Cheers.”
She drank half of the champagne in one go.
Having a feeling I had not been a heavy drinker before, I sipped my drink.
Two maids in black uniforms came out with trays filled with hors d’oeuvres and passed it around. I almost rolled my eyes. There were only seven people here, and two more inside the house somewhere. This was supposed to be a business dinner, but Ivy was right. It did look like a party.
A maid stopped by our side, offered us food, then at Ivy’s request, left the tray on the bar’s counter beside us. She picked up a flaky crust topped with a reddish cream and popped it in her mouth.
“Yum,” she said, her mouth full.
I shook my head, and was about to reach for one too, when a harsh whisper came from the group at the edge of the porch, and the two of us turned to the demons.
My father had a hand up and he spoke in austere tones, but even with my half-wolf hearing, I couldn’t hear each word of what he was saying.
I had asked so many questions when I woke up. Besides the where am I, who am I, I also asked about my mother, where was she, or had I always lived with my father and with Ivy?
They told me everything—it had been a lot in a short amount of time, but I think I got the gist of it.
My father used to be a prince of the underworld. After a long time in power, the king had grown bored and a little greedy, and my father and his brothers—brothers by title, not blood—had been talking about measures they could take to prevent the king from breaking the natural balance of the world, but before they could do anything, King Brikan’s ruthless children attacked. They killed him without giving him a chance to explain or to repent, and with him gone, the former princes grew weak. They had to flee the underworld, or they risked being killed too.
In fact, all demons taking refuge in the underworld fled, afraid of the new king and his sisters. They seemed to have a low tolerance for any kind of demon, even the ones with a good heart.
Weak and alone, my father found Ivy and she took him in.
A year later, when I needed a place to hide, she took me in too.
Seeing the group of higher demons wouldn’t turn on each other, I finally reached for the pastry I wanted to try.
My hand almost smacked someone’s chest. I pulled my hand back. “I’m so sor—” My words died at my lips when I looked at who had walked up to us. I hadn’t even seen him. “Roman, hi.”
He smiled at me and my cheeks warmed. “Enjoying the party?”
“It’s not a party,” I said again.
Roman tilted his head. “We could put on some music and turn it into one.”
