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“He’s the Prince of Lies,” Daiman interjected.
I narrowed my eyes. “Why would he lie about something like that?”
“The hell if I know.” Daiman shrugged, his muscles rippling with the movements. He tilted his head, stretching the muscles in his neck. Something popped. He groaned, then repeated the motion on the other side. “Did it sound like Lucifer or . . . ?”
I rolled my lips, sipped the rest of my Old Fashioned, and set the cup on the table beside me. I wasn’t sure now. It sounded like Lucifer, and I’d never heard anyone else speaking in my mind. Only Lucifer could do that.
“I’m not so sure anymore.” And that frustrated me.
“Back to Grace,” Daiman said. “Could it be possible she was brought back to life once Lucifer found out she wasn’t a virgin?”
I pursed my lips and stood up, slipping my hands into my pockets. “Lucifer can’t create life.”
“Was it the ritual that could have done it?”
I glanced at Grace. “I’m not sure. She was the first sacrifice that wasn’t a virgin. Something happened somewhere. The person who spoke in my head called me to her.”
Daiman grunted, peeled off his leather jacket, and threw it on my chair.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
He kicked off his shoes and undressed. “Going to sleep.”
“Don’t wake her up,” I warned.
He shot me an annoyed look. “I won’t.”
Daiman was a tough fallen angel. He slaughtered many enemies and continued to kill ruthlessly in this never-ending war God had waged. When Daiman was around Grace, he might have been rough with her, but I didn’t miss the tenderness in his eyes when he looked at her.
He slipped under the sheets with Grace and pulled her back against his chest. He wrapped one arm around her waist, and with the other, he positioned her head on his shoulder.
Sighing, I gave in and decided to join them. My California king-sized bed would easily fit all three of us. I didn’t want to leave Grace because the mating thread that tied the three of us together demanded I stay by her side. I undressed, slipped onto the mattress on Grace’s other side, and wrapped an arm around her waist. Daiman’s forearm brushed against mine, and we shared a look before we closed our eyes.
68
GRACE
Iwoke up sweating. I turned my head, blinking open my eyes and shifting to get cool. An arm tightened around my waist and dragged me back to the sweltering heat. I peeked over my shoulder and noticed all the tattoos over tanned skin. I recognized one piece that belonged to Daiman—a demonic face, its forked tongue sticking out and a red upside-down cross on the forehead. Its eyes were all black, with dark veins branching from it. Daiman had his head tucked between my back and into the pillow beneath our heads.
I wiggled to free myself from the sauna that was his body, but he dragged me back into him.
“Sleep,” he groaned, his voice husky.
“You’re too hot.” I squirmed away and sat up. “Oof!” I smacked into Daiman as he tugged me toward him and rolled me onto my back. Something warm and hard pressed against my shoulder, and I peeked to the side. Lucien lay on his stomach, his head turned the other way as he slept.
I looked back at Daiman, and he smirked at me, his eyes hooded from being half-awake. My cheeks heated.
“I’ll take that as a compliment to my looks, angel,” he rasped.
“Pfft.” I giggled but quickly covered my mouth as I glanced at Lucien. It was strange seeing him shirtless, exposing all his tattooed skin as he slept. They were like Daiman’s, with all the demonic and horror artwork.
A shit-eating grin spread across Daiman’s face.
Oh, he was up to no good.
Silence stretched between us, and I nibbled my bottom lip before I cupped his cheek. “When did you get here?”
