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He nods gravely. “Understood.”
A car horn from outside distracts her, making her glance sideways. “Ooh, my ride is here! Gotta run.” She gives me a quick hug and whispers—sort of—near my ear. “Your car is fine, I promise. I only did a ride share because of booze. Your new guy seems nice. Not devilishly handsome or anything, but nice. I approve.”
“Glad to hear it,” I tell her, laughing more at her choice of words than anything. “Now go sleep, or that hangover is going to be brutal.”
“Yes, mother,” she replies sarcastically, but her smile is genuine and her eyes tell me that she’s going to want more details later.
She says goodbye to Naamah and gives Lucas one last warning glare before disappearing out the door. I watch her until she’s inside the car, then shut the front door and turn around in time to watch Lucifer’s “meet the family” persona melt away. His cold fury is visible now, although muted. The worry I’ve been desperately trying to ignore all night rushes to the surface.
“So… how did it go?” Naamah asks. From her tone, I can tell that she’s seeing the same thing in him that I am.
“The immediate threat has been put down,” he says evenly.
“Immediate threat?” I repeat in a pensive murmur. He gives a singular nod.
“It’s not over, then,” Naamah concludes.
“No, it isn’t.” He catches my eye, his gaze burning. “Thanks for your help, Naamah,” he says without looking at her. “We’ll be going now.”
“My pleasure,” she replies, her tone mildly admonishing.
I give her a quick hug, rolling my eyes on Lucifer’s behalf. She and I both know that he likes to ride the razor edge between curt and civil, and I don’t think she’s taking it personally. Still, she really came through for us tonight and deserves to be thanked properly.
“I had a ton of fun tonight,” I tell her. “Thanks for hosting, and for talking.”
“Any time. You two be safe.”
Lucas leads me out to his car. I know without asking that he isn’t taking me back to my apartment, just like he knows that I’m perfectly content spending the night with him. It isn’t far from Naamah’s place to his, and the short ride is full of heavy silence. The undercurrent of tension in him grows stronger, a riptide in the making.
That tension explodes the second his front door closes behind us.
The lock clicks into place, and as if the soft sounds has unleashed something inside him, he’s on me in an instant. His mouth is hot and demanding, his hands pulling me against him like he can’t get close enough. Breathlessly, I kiss him back, high on his nearness and his touch. He breaks off the kiss to hold me tighter, his tension wrapping around me like a cable.
“Is everything okay?” I murmur, knowing it’s not.
“No.” His voice rumbles like thunder. “But I won’t let it affect you, Sophia. You’re safe. I’ll keep you safe.”
He speaks it like an oath, a solemn vow, and I believe him.
I nuzzle against him, seeking his mouth, and he gives it. Sealed with a kiss, I know I’m safe. When he pulls away, the storm that’s lived in his expression for days has cleared. Do I mean that much to him? Or is this just the eye of the storm, a moment of peace in his chaotic, violent world?
“Come with me,” he murmurs. “I have something to show you.”
His house is like a dream. Beyond the Escher-inspired front room is a ballroom, three airy stories tall, and topped with a stained-glass skylight. Across from that is a broad, gently spiraling staircase. The carved handrail, intricate and fantastic, tells stories to my fingers as we climb.
The landing opens to a sort of hallway, overlooking and encircling the ballroom. Tall, narrow windows offer glimpses of the city lights outside. Between them, artworks I couldn’t afford to get appraised glow softly in their lighted hollows. On the far side, gilded double doors open onto a balcony. Water glistens in the dark.
Lucas touches a switch on the wall, turning on a ring of unobtrusive lights. The water is filling an infinity pool, its surface even with the balcony, the far wall made of glass. In the distance, Los Angeles swirls and ripples like Atlantis.
“It’s beautiful,” I breathe softly.
“Yes.” He isn’t looking at the view, though. He’s looking at me. His gaze burns into mine as he comes close, touching my face, brushing back my hair. “Beautiful.”
His hands slide down my body to my skirt, which he unfastens with slow, deliberate fingers. It slides to the floor, the cool satin lining making me gasp as it brushes my skin. He unbuttons my shirt, his hands gravitating toward my skin between each button. His eyes roam hungrily over me as he pushes the shirt off my shoulders.
I want him to kiss me, to crush me against him, but he holds back. He’s wholly focused on the task at hand, savoring every layer before it falls away. When he’s finished with my clothes, he strips himself too, efficiently and sensually. Once we’re both standing naked, me in nothing but my shoes, he lifts me out of them and into his arms.
I kiss him, clinging to him as he holds me in his arms and strides toward the pool. I hear the gentle splash of the water before it touches my skin. Warm and inviting, the water cradles me against Lucifer’s chest. He releases his hold on my legs, letting his hands sweep over my body as we kiss, floating weightlessly in the water.
