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"And here I thought I'd figured you out after last night. Clearly there's more to you than meets the eye, Juniper Grey."

I fought the blush that threatened to rise at the mention of last night. "I contain multitudes. And apparently, a talent for deception."

"Deception?" He grinned. "I prefer to think of it as creative justice between brothers."

"So you'll help me?" I asked, somewhat surprised by his willingness to prank his own brother.

"Help you give Pride the date from hell?" Lust's eyes gleamed with mischief. "Absolutely. Trust me, I've had centuries to learn what drives him crazy."

And just like that, any lingering awkwardness between us from our night together vanished, replaced by the camaraderie of co-conspirators.

"Tell me everything," I said, pulling out a notepad. "What are his pet peeves? His turn-offs? What would make this the worst night of his immortal life?"

Lust's smile was positively wicked. "Where to begin? He abhors tardiness. Can't stand people who chew loudly. And he has a pathological fear of public embarrassment."

"Perfect," I scribbled notes. "What about conversation topics?"

"He detests discussing bodily functions, obviously. Hates small talk. Can't stand being interrupted. And if someone touches him without permission?" Lust mimed an explosion. "Total meltdown."

I couldn't help laughing at his obvious enjoyment. "You're really into this, aren't you?"

"Are you kidding? Pride's been insufferable for millennia. The chance to see him squirm through a terrible date? It's a gift."

We spent the next hour crafting the perfect nightmare evening for Pride. By the time we finished, I had a list of candidates from our client files, each one possessing qualities guaranteed to drive Pride to distraction.

"What about Meredith?" Lust suggested, pointing to a file I'd pulled. "The banshee with the pet ferret she takes everywhere?"

I considered it. "Promising. But I'm leaning toward Daphne." I tapped another folder. "The nymph who compulsively shares intimate details about her past relationships. In explicit detail."

Lust winced. "That would do it. Pride is remarkably prudish for the embodiment of, well, pride."

"Then it's settled." I closed Daphne's file with a satisfying snap. "One blind date with a boundaryless nymph, coming up."

"You know," Lust said, leaning forward, "most people who sleep with me don't immediately conscript me into their evil plotting."

I met his gaze steadily, refusing to be flustered. "I'm not most people."

His expression softened, something warm and genuine replacing his usual practiced charm. "I think that’s what I like most about you."

I cleared my throat. "I should get back to work. Those compatibility analyses won't match themselves."

"By all means." Lust gestured to the door with exaggerated formality. "Don't let our vengeance plotting interfere with actual productivity."

As I gathered my notes and stood to leave, he added, "You know Pride will never forgive you for this."

I paused at the door, considering. "Maybe not. But I never asked to be reanimated, and I certainly never asked for him to kiss me afterward like he was claiming some prize." I looked back at Lust, finding not judgment in his expression, but appreciation. "He should learn that not everything—or everyone—exists to be his personal achievement."

Lust's smile was slow and genuine. "I couldn't have said it better myself."

Walking back to my desk, I felt lighter than I had in weeks. Revenge, I discovered, was a dish best served with an accomplice who knew all the ingredients.

Chapter

Twenty

SLOTH

Ihated being awake.