Page 4 of Exorcise Me (Hotter than Hell)

Five days later, Lucien was still on my couch.

“This isn’t working,” I announced, standing over him with my arms crossed.

Lucien looked up from my laptop, which he’d commandeered to watch cooking videos. “You’re right. Your wifi is atrocious. How do you live like this?”

“That’s not what I meant.” I ran a hand through my hair, a habit that had increased exponentially since his arrival. “You said one night.”

“Did I?” He tilted his head innocently. “How time flies when you’re having fun.”

“Fun is not the word I’d use,” I muttered, though it wasn’t entirely true.

Despite my initial panic, the past five days had settled into a strange but not unpleasant routine.

Lucien cooked meals that made me question everything I thought I knew about food.

We talked—about theology, philosophy, history (which he corrected with alarming frequency, insisting he’d “been there”).

At night, he sprawled on my couch while I retreated to my bedroom, both of us pretending we didn’t feel the strange tension that seemed to fill the apartment after dark.

“What word would you use, then?” Lucien closed the laptop and sat up, giving me his full attention. The movement caused his black t-shirt to ride up slightly, revealing a slice of toned stomach that I definitely did not notice.

“Inconvenient,” I said firmly. “Inappropriate. Dangerous.”

“Mmm, now we’re getting somewhere.” His smile was slow and deliberate. “Danger is far more interesting than fun, don’t you think?”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “I have a job, Lucien. A calling. I’m supposed to be banishing demons, not… not…”

“Hosting one for an extended sleepover?” he supplied. “Making breakfast for one? Watching one reorganize your bookshelf by color rather than subject because ‘aesthetics matter, Noah’?”

Despite myself, I smiled at the memory of finding him arranging my books into a rainbow pattern, insisting that my organizational system was “an offense against beauty.” He’d been wearing reading glasses at the time—completely unnecessarily, he later admitted, but he thought they made him look “scholarly and sexy.”

They had, which was beside the point.

“I got a call today,” I said, sobering. “From Father Finnegan. There’s another case.”

Lucien’s playful expression vanished. “Ah. And now the moral crisis arrives right on schedule.”

“It’s not a crisis,” I insisted. “It’s my duty.”

“And where is this alleged demonic activity?” He made air quotes around ‘demonic activity.’

“An old Victorian house in Parkside. The family reports strange noises, objects moving, cold spots—”

“Sounds like a drafty old house and a radiator that needs replacing,” Lucien interrupted, standing up. He moved with that strange fluid grace he always had, like gravity was merely a suggestion he occasionally honored. “But by all means, go perform your holy magic tricks for the scared humans.”

His dismissive tone stung more than it should have. “This is what I do, Lucien. It’s my purpose.”

He stepped closer, into my personal space as he so often did. “Is it? Or is it what you were told your purpose should be?”

We’d had this conversation before, circling around it during late-night talks that stretched until the early hours. Lucien questioning, me defending, both of us pushing at the edges of beliefs I’d held my entire life.

“I need to go,” I said, stepping back. “Father Finnegan is expecting me.”

“And we can’t disappoint Father Finnegan, can we?” There was an edge to Lucien’s voice I hadn’t heard before. Something ancient and bitter. “Go then. Banish whatever poor spirit is trapped in that house’s walls. I’m sure your mentor will be very proud.”

I grabbed my exorcism bag—a worn leather satchel containing holy water, blessed salt, my prayer book, and other tools of the trade. “I don’t need your permission.”

“Clearly not.” Lucien turned away, his shoulders a tense line. “I’ll have dinner ready when you return. Something comforting for the conquering hero.”

The sarcasm was thick enough to cut. I hesitated at the door, feeling like I should say something else, but no words came.

With a frustrated sigh, I left.