“That’s none of your damn business,” Espi counters. There’s a duffel hanging from his shoulder, and he wrenches it higher while descending the steps two at a time. He shoulders past Arno and then approaches the door, his narrowed gaze focused solely on Dante.
The two brothers eye each other, one fallen and one still above reproach. All you’d need is a sheet of glass between them and you would have a twisted mirror. I eye the artist’s wiry frame and the lack of shadows lurking within his blue irises. Was this how Lucifer looked before his tumultuous fall from grace? The thought tugs at something inside my chest, and I have to brush it aside.
They communicate in their own silent language, more ancient than any spoken tongue. I can almost see the emotions that spark between them. In the end, Espi has the last word, and Dante shifts his weight ever-so-slightly to the side in defeat.
“I’ll see you around, Pyro,” he tells me, cocking his head in my direction. “Take this for now. I’ll try to bring you something moregirlynext time.”
“N-next time?”
Without answering, he shrugs the duffel from his shoulder and presses the straps into my hand. I take them, testing the weight that dangles from them. There are more clothes inside it, I suspect. Maybe another case of deodorant. All in all, it’s just one more simple act of kindness I will never be able to repay, but he’s gone before I can even get a thank-you out.
Dante watches him head out of the door, his jaw clenched. “Espi...”
Whether the artist doesn’t hear him or just ignores him...I can’t tell. He disappears into the darkness, and for a moment, my devil almost looks human. Pain softens the intensity of those eyes before even more cold ice replaces it.
“He knew about her,” Arno says, starting forward. “Espi. Heasked about the little bitch.” His eyes cut over to me, blazing with suspicion. “Did you hear what the fuck I’ve just said? Dan—”
“We’ll talk about this later.” Lucifer rakes a hand through his hair, displacing the black strands across his forehead. The look only serves to intensify the hard expression bolstering his words. He’s a wolf, his hackles raised, and the red-haired man knows when to back off.
He chuckles darkly and then waves a hand through the air before strolling to the door. Over the threshold, he hesitates and glances back at Dante. “Let’s say that I want her. Now. Would you give her to me?”
I don’t know what terrifies me more—the thought of truly being at Arno’s mercy or the look in Lucifer’s eyes when he stares the man he called his brother down. It’s completely unreadable. Stone. Once again, Lucifer proves to be a code I’m not adept enough to crack. Arno, however, has no trouble.
He shakes his head suddenly, choking out a scoff. “I thought so.”
He’s gone in an instant, and in his absence, Lucifer switches from stone to...lightning. His gaze is piercing when it finds mine. His fingers flex at his sides, hungry. I know I have a second to save myself, and for some reason, I take it rather than do the smart thing, which would be to let him flatten me beneath his rage.
“I knew him,” I choke out, taking a step backward until the railing of the staircase juts into my spine. “Espi. I m-met him once...before.”
“How?” It’s a simple question made dangerous by the harsh undercurrent of anger it carries.
“A few days before...before I was taken,” I admit. “He was painting in the alley near Vinny’s hotel. When we were at the apartment, I met him again. He made me answer the door for him—”
I hear a sound like something striking wood and the worldsways—my foot, I realize when I glance down. I’ve mounted the first step of the staircase without even realizing it. Unconcerned, the devil continues his slow advance toward me, and I find myself climbing yet another step.
“He told me he’d call the police if I didn’t,” I say, though for some reason, my voice doesn’t hold an ounce of fear, even as my heart threatens to pound its way right out of my chest. “I let him think—”
“What did you tell him?” Lucifer’s demand rivals the insistent howl of the barking dogs I can hear even from here. The blistering rage gives way to the tumult of emotions that lurk underneath. Fear. It’s the strongest, breaking through before he even seems to realize it.What did you tell him?
“I told him...” My tongue shoots out to coat my bottom lip as if that bit of moisture might protect me from the heat he’s giving off through those scorching eyes. “I told him that I was a prostitute and that you were helping me escape my pimp.”
The devil stops in his tracks. He wasn’t expecting that answer, and he frowns as if tasting it against his mouth. Maybe he feels the same why I do: It’s uncomfortably close to the truth. The devil is helping me escape my “pimp,” but he doesn’t particularly seem to relish his newfound shining armor.
I flinch when he takes another step toward me, his posture hunched and loose like a predator’s right before it’s poised to lunge. His gaze sweeps along my body, but I don’t cringe backward this time. I stand still as he mounts the first step, his bulk dominating the narrow stairwell, his heat consuming me in waves.
Tilting my head back, I face my devil head on and allow him to search my expression for any hint of a lie. “I didn’t know he was your brother,” I say. “Not until he told me.”
“So, you talked to him?” The words hiss from him like sparks from a blaze. Wherever they land, my flesh burns.
“Yes.”
Suddenly, he mounts my step, bracing his feet on either side of mine. His size forces me to lean backward and cling to the railing for balance.
“He told me not to tell you.”
The devil’s mouth quirks into the twisted semblance of a smile. My breasts graze his chest as he reaches for my chin and traps it between his fingers. There’s no real strength in his grip—I could break it if I wanted to. His gaze holds me in place, however.
“Don’t...don’t keep shit from me,” he tells me in a voice that grapples to maintain control over its low, raspy baritone. In some places, it slips, and the hint of a growl licks through. “Ever. You tell me everything...or I’ll—” He breaks off and glances down at his hands. They flex, and when he glances back up to meet my gaze, Lucifer doesn’t bother to hide the murderous impulse he literally has to swallow down. “I’ll fulfill my end of our bargain on a much quicker timeline.”
