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“You’re very welcome, love. More wine?”

Overall, the evening was disturbinglynormal. Both Lucian and Cassius were charming and friendly, if a little too posh, too rich, and too damn entitled for words sometimes.

After all the dishes had put themselves away, Lucian escorted me to a room, not far from his library.

When he pushed the door, it was just like the rest of his floor, but as I stepped in, the dark walls morphed, the red and black theme switching to a dark green with silver filigree runningthrough the walls and furniture. I watched, gaping and in awe. It wasspectacular. Up until this very instant, I couldn’t have pictured my ideal room, but here it was, plucked straight from my mind and made real.

“The house is getting to know you.” Lucian leaned against the doorframe, unsurprised and unbothered. “Don’t tell Ronan it changed for you; he’ll be extremely jealous.”

“It doesn’t do that for everyone?” I asked.

Lucian shook his head. “You should find the usual amenities in the bathroom—the toothbrushes will be new. There are a few clothes in the wardrobe. Should you need anything, I’m right across the hall. Make yourself at home.”

That was just the problem. I feltperfectlyat home.

So much so, twenty minutes later, when I finally sank into the softest, warmest duvet I’d ever touched, into a slightly too-large pair of brand-new, white silk PJs, a purring demon-cat by my knees, I fell asleep before my head hit the pillow.

For the first time in weeks—oryears—there were no nightmares.

26

KLEOS

Iwoke up gradually, to softness, warmth, and comfort. By the time I blinked, there were two bright red eyes gazing straight into my soul.

“Zazel.”

His purr was a veritable engine.

I needed a cat. Which meant I needed out of my parents’ house. It hadn’t feel safe since that day, which was one of the reasons I’d slept so badly. The fear of the terrible slicing, burning pain returning when I had my eyes closed had made me actively avoid sleep for a while, only passing out when I couldn’t help it.

I wasn’t sure whether I’d passed out because of the conjecture that the ritual wouldn’t be attempted again until Friday, or the fact that Lucian was across the hall, within shouting distance. The lack of evil runes on my skin likely contributed, too.

For the first time since the start of all this, I didn’t feel alone or vulnerable. Sharing with Gideon and Silver had helped a little, but it hadn’t given me any peace of mind. Yesterday might have confirmed some of my fears, but it had also given me a purpose, aplan. I could work with a plan.

I showered and looked at the selection of brand-new clothes in the guest wardrobe. There were a number of options for children, men, and women, all with tags. Knowing he owned an entire fashion brand, it was no surprise that every piece felt softer than silk, the quality of the material and design incomparable to anything I usually wore—except the fancy dresses my mother purchased on my behalf for formal events.

But they weren’t my clothes. Purposely, the styles were loose, a bit shapeless, meant to fit people of a range of sizes. I changed into black cotton panties, my bra and jeans from the day before, with a loose forest green top. The bouffant sleeves fell off the shoulders, but I didn’t actually mind, now that the runes I wore were safe. There was no doubt that people seeing me like this would raise an eyebrow, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. Topping off the look with the green shawl given to me yesterday, I set out of the room.

The manor might feel dauntingly huge in its entirety, but I could find my way into Lucian’s wing easily enough. His door, across the hall, was still shut—and no wonder. It was ten o’clock; practically dawn, for an unders.

Tracing the path back into the kitchen, I set to work, intent on keeping my word. Lucian might have been joking when he said I could stay so long as I baked to pay for my keep, but he’d graciously hosted me all of yesterday and last night, and I knew my tin of goodies was empty. The least I could do was refill it. Besides, baking was fun. I’d return to the library when I was done, but for the moment, I needed to wake up.

Snooping around like I belonged, I found every amenity and ingredient I usually used. He even had a proper fridge and oven, all the wiring and doors seemingly coated in iron. Of course, Lucian’s ingredients were fresher, more expensive. Instead of vanilla essence, he had proper vanilla pods in his cupboard. Hisbutter was so yellow and soft, I suspected someone had beaten it by hand.

I’d put a batch of cupcakes in the oven and was finishing off the icing when Zazel hissed, alerting me of Lucian’s arrival seconds before the awareness of his presence sent a shiver up my spine. I turned and, by some miracle, didn’t drop the fancy porcelain bowl in my hand.

Lucian Regis, destroyer of sanity and panties, wasn’t wearing a shirt.

Damn him, the dick must have known what he was doing to me. There was no way he wasn’t aware of the fact that someone cut like a bloody god, each muscle attentively sculpted by the hand of an enamored master, should not walk around half naked due to the risk of causing spontaneous combustion.

He yawned, bringing his hand to his mouth, which only served to flex the piles of lean muscles, before strolling in, dragging his feet a little—noticeable, given how perfect his posture and strides usually were.

“This smell should be illegal,” he drawled.

His abs should be illegal. I was still staring at them wordlessly.

“Tea or coffee?” the man asked, brushing past me.