Page 6

Standing in his front doorway the following afternoon, Luka watched one of his sentinels pull up in the courtyard. Beyond it were acres of manicured land, tall trees, and high brick walls.

His estate was expansive, just like the long, stately three-floored home in which he’d lived for many years. Beside it was an annex that housed his bodyguards. The demons who permanently guarded his home lived on the grounds in what was originally a guesthouse.

As the head of his syndicate, he naturally had many enemies.

Luka had been born into this life. He knew nothing else.

He’d been groomed from an early age to step in as Prime when the time came.

He had held the position for years now, which he hadn’t done by taking chances.

So though it was rare for people to give him issues, let alone attempt to trespass on his personal territory, he ensured it was heavily guarded.

His sentinel, Raiden—who’d been sent to collect Iain—exited the car and then pulled open the rear door. Out slid a slender dark-blond male, his compact shoulders stiff, his scarred brow creased.

“He’s looking worried,” commented Mikhail. He and his brother—both of whom Luka had relayed the Naomi/Iain situation to—had planted themselves either side of the front door.

“So he should. I generally don’t have people brought to my home unless they’ve displeased me,” Luka pointed out. It wasn’t as if he and Iain were friends. Having a virtual—and yes, mostly criminal—empire to run, Luka worked a lot and didn’t make much time to socialize.

He waited until both demons had climbed the steps before he said, “Prompt as ever, Raiden. It doesn’t go unappreciated.” Luka was a busy man on a tight schedule. “Iain, we’ll talk inside.”

As they entered the house, Mikhail walked in front of Luka while Nikandr covered his back. They strode along the marble flooring of the circular foyer and then further into the building, passing many doors.

As well as basic rooms such as the den and the kitchen, there was everything from a well-equipped gym to an indoor atrium that featured a large fish tank built into a wall.

It would quickly become clear to any who entered his home that Luka liked the finer things. Everything was top-notch and stylish. Every surface shone or glimmered.

But yes, there was an austere feel to the place. He could admit that he’d forsaken comfort for opulence. Ella had been right in saying that it looked like a showroom, not a home. There were no personal touches anywhere that would indicate who lived here—not even a single picture or portrait.

Finally, they reached the living room, which Luka only used to receive guests. “Drink?” he offered Iain, waving him toward the sofa.

“I won’t say no,” the psi-demon replied, a nervous tremor to his voice, as he sat.

Luka’s guards and sentinel took up positions around the room while he poured both himself and Iain a whiskey.

Taking a tumbler from him, Iain nodded his thanks.

“You don’t look too good,” observed Luka, sinking into the sofa across from him. It was no exaggeration—the demon appeared feverish, just as Luka would expect from someone caught in the spell of a siren song.

Iain’s lips twitched. “Such flattery.”

“What have you been doing with yourself lately?”

“Not much. Just spending time with my newborn nephew; helping my sister with taking care of him.”

“Really? Because that’s not what I heard.” Luka sipped his drink. “In fact, it’s your other sister who’s been helping her. A lot of your time has been spent harassing a siren from Jolene Wallis’s lair,” he stated, disgust bleeding into his voice.

There were plenty of moral lines that Luka would cross—and had done many times—but none involved hurting women or children, either emotionally or physically. Even Belial, who enjoyed inflicting pain, would never cross that line.

Iain went rigid, color rising in his cheeks. “I wouldn’t call it harassment,” he said stiffly, managing to sound both offended and sheepish.

Annoyance creeping over his skin, Luka slowly lifted a brow. “Naomi Chamberlain asked that you cease contacting her, yes?”

The psi-demon pressed his lips tight together. “Yes.” A reluctant whisper.

“Repeatedly?”

“Yes.” Again, it was a mere murmur.

“But you’ve ignored her wishes and continued to reach out to her in numerous ways?”

Iain ground his teeth. “Yes,” he quietly bit off.

“Even though you know she wants you to leave her alone, you keep contacting her, sending her gifts, and showing up at her home uninvited. Tell me how that doesn’t constitute harassment.”

Iain looked down at his glass and then took a gulp of whiskey.

“You’re under the thrall of her song, so I can—”

“No.” Iain’s head snapped up. “That’s not the case at all. I’ve told Naomi that.”

“You’re insulting your own intelligence if you insist on believing that. Look at the facts in front of you. She’s a siren. Her song preys on people and induces obsessions. And here you are, utterly obsessed with her. It’s pretty fucking obvious that you’re not in your right mind.”

The psi-demon bristled, his chin flicking up. “I love her, Luka.”

Abraxas rolled its eyes, finding him pitiful.

“No, you think you do,” Luka contradicted. “If you really cared for her, you would respect her wishes and leave her alone. Her song has you all muddled up.”

“It may seem that way—”

“Because it is that way. Denying it doesn’t change the truth.”

The corners of Iain’s eyes tightened. “You’re going to take my word over Jolene’s? It can only be her who asked you to keep me away from Naomi.”

“It wasn’t only Jolene.” Luka sipped at his drink again. “Naomi herself requested that I cut you from her life.”

Iain sucked in a breath, pain flickering in the depth of his gaze. “She . . . she didn’t mean that.”

“Oh, I assure you she did. And you will stay away from her, Iain.”

Anguish seeped into the psi-demon’s blue eyes. “Don’t ask that of me.”

“I’m not asking you. I’m explicitly stating that you’re to leave her alone. You need that distance from her, Iain, or her song will keep you under its spell. In a couple of weeks, it will have worn off and you’ll see I’m right that this is obsession you feel.”

Iain drained his glass and then placed it on the side table. His gaze snapped back to Luka, a hint of challenge there. “Have you ever been in love?”

“No.”

“Then how can you be sure that’s not what I’m feeling?”

Dagon snorted, wondering how someone could be so delusional—siren song or not.

“Have you taken a look in the mirror lately?” Luka asked. “You’re pale. Sweaty. Flushed. Your eyes are cloudy.”

Iain plucked uncomfortably at his collar, his gaze sliding to the side.

“Okay, so maybe her song is affecting me. But my feelings for her are still real.” A stubborn tension tightened his jaw.

“If she could just see that, if she could just realize that I’m not delusional, she’d give me— us —another chance. ”

“You think that Naomi—someone who’s dealt with many obsessed men—can’t tell the difference between siren-induced emotions and genuine feelings?”

Belligerence danced in Iain’s eyes as he leaned forward. “It’s the truth, Luka. The absolute truth.”

“It’s fantasy,” Luka countered. “Even if I was wrong on that, it wouldn’t matter.

Because no one has the right to force their wants on another person.

You’re going to leave her alone, Iain—not only because it’s what’s fair to her, but because I fucking told you to .

” Infuriated by the psi-demon’s persistence, Belial shoved its way to the surface and glared at him.

“If you dare disobey us on this, I will whip you until you are raw and bleeding—and then I will whip you some more.”

Fear falling over his face, Iain eased back slightly in his seat.

Luka regained supremacy over Belial, rolling his shoulders. “Are we clear?”

The psi-demon swallowed hard, his expression souring. “Yes.”

“Then say it.”

“We’re clear.” The words were torn out of him.

Luka finished his drink. “Raiden, take Iain back home.”

The sentinel pushed away from the wall. “Sure thing.”

Iain rose from the sofa and followed Raiden to the door. Pausing, the psi-demon half-turned to look at Luka. “Maybe one day you’ll fall hard for a woman. If you do, you’ll understand how I feel right now, and you’ll know what this will cost me.”

“ Or you’ll discover with time and distance that you’re wrong in what you presently believe, and you’ll be thankful that I directed you to stay clear of Naomi.” Luka flicked a hand. “Go.”

Obediently, the psi-demon left with Raiden.

Mikhail took a few steps toward Luka. “Spelled by a siren song or not, the guy is definitely fixated on her.”

“So it would seem.” It wasn’t something that Luka could relate to. He’d never even developed so much as a remote fondness for any of the women in his past. He’d never experienced obsession, adoration, or possessiveness toward them.

As a child, he had been wildly territorial of what was his. He hadn’t merely refused to share his toys, he’d hidden his favorites from others. His father had handled it by taking any such favorites from him.

Andrey Belinsky hadn’t done it to be cruel. He’d simply wanted to crush Luka’s tendency to form attachments—for the head of a crime family like theirs, attachments could be weaknesses.

There were many lessons that Andrey had taught his son in his efforts to prepare him for a position that, placing him as it would at the top of the hierarchy, would set him slightly apart from the rest of his lair.

Those lessons had paid off, but it meant that Luka didn’t know how not to be alone.

He instinctively shied away from emotional intimacy, as did his inner entities.

“Don’t be surprised if he ignores your order,” said Nikandr, moving to stand beside his brother. “Naomi’s song has him all tied up in knots.”