Page 32

KLEOS

I woke 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, a plan . 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.

His butter 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.

Too close. Far too close. I could smell him.

More white musk and leather. Definitely patchouli.

“What’s your cologne?” I demanded.

I wasn’t sniffing, exactly.

“Right now?” he snorted. “Eau de sweat.” His eyes seemed a little hazy, his voice, rough with sleep. “I suppose I’m not fit to be seen—or smelled yet. Sorry, the cupcakes got me up before my shower.”

I returned to beating the icing, for something to do. “Sweat aside, what cologne do you use?” I insisted.

If he was driving me insane, the least he could do was tell me how.

“I don’t have one.”

I was ready to scream. People did not smell like this naturally .

Before I could lose it, he added with another yawn, “I developed a body wash and deodorant formula meant to capture a scent most befitting to individuals years ago.”

“You also have a cosmetics business?”

“Uh-huh. You didn’t answer. Tea or coffee, love?”

The endearment made me realize just how damn domestic the scene seemed. I was baking, and here he was, putting his old-fashioned metal kettle on the stove, first thing in the morning. Half naked.

“Coffee, please.” I needed the caffeine to stay sharp around his general nonsense. “Gideon wants to know your brand of beans, by the way. And don’t tell me you own a coffee roasting business.”

“Of course not. I import them from Colombia.”

By some miracle, I prevented myself from swatting him with the spoon, but it was a close call. “I’m not going to ask how much it costs.”

“Less than buying crap by the bag at the grocery store. I place a bulk order every year. I’ll send a bag up to your cousin, how about that?”

That was the thing with him. Yes, he was a filthy rich, posh bastard, happy to take advantage of capitalism to the fullest extent, but he was also incredibly generous.

“That earns you extra icing,” I told him.

The infuriating man only opened his mouth.

“You want me to feed you icing?”

“You just said I earned it. I don’t joke around with icing, Valesco.” Then, he opened again.

He could have done a number of things, from grabbing a spoon, asking his weird house to give him one, or even dipping his finger into the bowl. Instead, he just spread those lips and waited for me expectantly.

Well, if he had no compunction about playing with my sanity, I decided to return the favor. I dipped my finger into the bowl and curved it in front of his mouth, challenging.

I expected him to laugh and walk away. He was obviously fond of joking and flirting, but it wasn’t serious.

He’d made that clear each time Gideon or even Cassius had suggested he might have designs on me that he found the idea ludicrous.

He’d even told me he certainly wasn’t helping because he was hoping to get into my pants back in his lab yesterday. So, he should have stopped the joke.

Silver flashed into his eyes as he leaned in, and close on my fingers. Then he sucked .

I felt it down to my clit.

Lucian moaned as he straightened, immediately returning to the coffee beans he was grinding, while I was attempting to process the last two minutes. “How the fuck do you make that icing, Kleos? I need the recipe.”

It was an effort, but I made myself snap out of it. “Nope. Remember: you want something I make, you come to me.”

In fact, it was just like any old buttercream frosting, only infused with my magic, hence why no one could produce the exact same thing as mine.

“I have to wonder if your goal is getting kidnapped by a dark wizard.”

“Very much depends on the size of his library,” I quipped back.

Involuntarily, my gaze dipped to his black lounge pants, low on his hips. I made myself look away immediately, but given his smirk, he caught it.

I was certain my skin was tomato red, considering how hot my entire face was.

“You seemed to enjoy your first glimpse of mine. Sugar?”

At first, I was slightly disappointed to have downgraded to sugar. I quite liked being called love. But while I was too busy flushing and gaping, he’d finished the coffees.

The cupcakes were ready just in time, and rather than insisting that we ought to let them sit a little, I plated two, with a generous helping of icing on his.

“So, you do eat your baking, after all,” he mused as I bit into the cupcake. “I wondered. I’ve never seen you actually eat one.”

“It’s hard to bake less than a dozen, and I like them fresh—but I only eat about one per batch, hence why I give so many away.”

“Consider me permanently on the list of interested parties. And I’m not afraid to bargain.”

He knew I owed him far more than cupcakes after yesterday.

“So, what, you save my life, and I bake for you, is that the deal? Let me sign on the dotted line.”

I expected him to laugh. Instead, Lucian stared at me with an intensity that made me fidget a little. I truly didn’t understand that look. “What?”

“I need to tell you something, and I need you to take it seriously.”

I blinked, turning my own words around in my head to try to guess what could warrant such a serious tone.

“Be very careful what you ask of me, love. You might just get it.”

That made little sense. “Sorry?”

“There are some words you should take care to use around me. Deals, promises, vows. People spend those words like they’re worth less than pennies nowadays, but it’s not the same for me. You met my grandfather yesterday. His father was Hypnos; and Hypnos’s mother, Nyx.”

I might have gasped. I knew he’d come from a god, but I hadn’t realized the line was that direct and immediate. What did that make Lucian? Something completely different from me, that was sure. Were we even the same species?

“And Nyx begot more than Sleep and Death. She birthed the Fates and Destiny itself. They’re my great-aunts and uncles.

” He attempted a smile that didn’t reach those eyes, fixed on me, trying to communicate something right into my soul.

“When I give my word, when I promise, when I vow, when I make a deal , it’s binding. ”

That was hard to wrap my head around. “So if I said you save my life and I get you cupcakes, and you agreed?—”

“We would enter into a binding contract I would never let you—or myself—out of.”

All right. But what was wrong with that, exactly?

“So, everything you’ve ever promised?—”

“I don’t make promises I don’t keep.”

I finished my cupcake and my coffee, thinking it through. Finally, I had to be honest. “It’s nice, actually. Knowing that if I ever get a promise out of you, I can count on you.”

Lucian utterly confused me, putting his elbow on the table and lowering his head to his fist with a deep, defeated sigh.

“What did I miss?”

“All my warnings, apparently.”

“That you’re never going to lie to me when you give your word?” I genuinely didn’t get it.

Lucian shook his head, getting to his feet. “I need a shower. We have an appointment in an hour.”