AI Aurora twisted the last deadbolt with a sharp clack. The door swung inward on protesting hinges, spilling the scent of cumin and sizzling onions from the curry house below into the flat's cluttered haze. She gripped the edge, bright blue eyes narrowing against the dim hallway light.
Lucien Moreau filled the threshold. Platinum blond hair gleamed under the bare bulb, slicked back without a strand astray. His charcoal suit hugged his frame like shadow on water, the ivory-handled cane hooked over one arm. Heterochromatic eyes—one amber flame, one void-black—locked onto hers. No smile curved his lips.
"Rory." His voice rolled low, French accent threading through her name like smoke.
She crossed her arms, shoulder-length black hair falling forward to curtain one cheek. The crescent scar on her left wrist caught the light as her fingers dug into her biceps. "Lucien. Eva's not here."
He didn't budge. Ptolemy, the tabby cat, slunk from behind a stack of leather-bound tomes on the side table, tail flicking. The cat paused, yellow eyes fixed on the intruder, then darted back into the shadows.
"I know." Lucien leaned the cane against the doorframe. His gaze traced the scar, lingered. "You are."
Her pulse kicked. Three years since Marseille—nights tangled in his sheets, his demon heat searing her skin, whispers of forever shattered by his sudden vanishing act. Lies about threats from Avaros, half-truths about his world swallowing him whole. She'd walked away, or tried to, back to London rain and delivery runs. Hurt festered, unspoken barbs ready to fly.
"Get out." She stepped back, but the door stayed open. Books towered on every surface—shelves bowed under grimoires, scrolls cascaded across the kitchen counter, notes pinned to walls like frantic spiderwebs. No room to retreat.
He entered anyway, cane clicking on scuffed floorboards. The door clicked shut behind him. Three deadbolts snicked home under his free hand—practiced, precise. Ptolemy hissed from atop a pile of research journals.
"You let me in once before." Lucien straightened, amber eye glinting . The black one drank the light.
Heat flushed her neck. "That was a mistake. Like showing up here uninvited."
Ptolemy leaped to the arm of the sagging sofa, claws kneading faded velvet . Lucien spared the cat a glance, then faced her fully. Five-eleven to her five-six, he loomed without crowding. The suit's crisp lines accentuated shoulders honed by realms beyond human gyms.
"Silas' bar too public. Eva's place—secure." He tapped the cane once . "We need to talk."
She snatched a scroll from the counter, unrolling it with deliberate snaps. Ancient script blurred under her stare. "Talk? You mean vanish again? Leave notes about 'debts unpaid'?"
His jaw tightened. He crossed to the window, parting heavy curtains. Brick Lane buzzed below—hawkers shouting, rickshaws honking. Gas lamps flickered on as dusk bled into night.
"I protected you." The words hung heavy.
Aurora slammed the scroll down. Ink vials rattled. "Protected? You fucked me over, Lucien. Promised intel on Evan—my ex, remember? The one who wouldn't let go. Then poof. Gone. Left me dodging shadows alone."
Ptolemy jumped to the floor, weaving between Lucien's ankles. The cat purred, traitorous rumble echoing .
Lucien crouched, scratched behind an ear. Ptolemy leaned in. Rising, he met her glare. "Evan wasn't human. Cult ties. Avaros blood called them to you through me."
Her laugh bit sharp. "Convenient. Demon daddy's enemies become mine. You could've warned me."
Amber eye softened a fraction. Black held steady. "Words fail against hellfire oaths."
She paced the cramped space, boots thudding past stacks of Eva's occult notes—symbols of binding circles, demon hierarchies. The air thickened, curry spices mingling with his cologne: sandalwood and brimstone faint.
"You speak four languages. Found plenty to say in bed." She halted inches from him, blue eyes blazing. Heat radiated from his skin, unnatural warmth chasing flat's chill .
His cane clattered to the floor. One hand captured her wrist, thumb brushing the crescent scar. Electricity sparked, old fires igniting.
"Rory." Breath ghosted her lips. "Laila, in shadows. You saw me—all of me."
She yanked free, but her back hit the bookshelf. Volumes teetered. "Don't. That name's dead."
He advanced, suit jacket brushing her arm. Ptolemy fled to the bedroom. "You whispered it last. Before I left."
Memories crashed: his mouth on her throat, half-demon strength pinning her to Marseille stone. Pleasure edged with pain, his horns flickering in ecstasy—not fully manifest, but enough to terrify and thrill. She'd clawed his back, demanded more. Then dawn brought silence, his note on the pillow.
"You left because you couldn't stay." Her voice cracked, fists balling his lapels . Silk crushed under knuckles.
Lucien's hands framed her face, black eye swallowing her reflection, amber igniting sparks. "I stayed too long. Avaros pulled. Father's debts—real. But you..."
She shoved him. He rocked back one step, cane forgotten. "But me what? Collateral damage?"
"No." He seized her waist, lifted her onto the counter. Scrolls scattered. Her legs parted instinctively, jeans-clad thighs bracketing his hips. "You burned brighter than hellfire."
Breath mingled. Her fingers threaded his platinum strands, tugging hard. Hurt twisted with want—three years of lonely nights, delivery routes blurring Evan’s threats into nightmares. Lucien’s intel had surfaced weeks later, anonymous drops at Golden Empress. Yu-Fei’s suspicious stares.
"Why now?" She nipped his jaw, tasting salt and stubble.
His groan vibrated through her. "Tracked you. Eva's notes—same symbols haunting me. Cult rising. Needs your mind."
Romance curdled with necessity. She pushed his chest, but hands lingered. "Always business. Even when you fuck me."
Fingers dug into her hips. "Not always." He claimed her mouth—fierce, no gentleness. Tongues clashed, old rhythms resurfacing. She bit his lip, copper tang blooming. He hissed, demon edge sharpening teeth.
Ptolemy yowled from the hall, ignored.
She broke free, gasping. Blue eyes searched his mismatched gaze. "Truth, Lucien. All of it."
He traced her scar again, lips following. "Evan's cult summoned me once. Bound you as leverage. I broke it—paid in blood. Left to draw them off."
Her heart stuttered. "You never said."
"Couldn’t risk you hunting them." His free hand slid under her shirt, palm scorching ribs. Gooseflesh rose.
"Idiot." She yanked his tie loose, knot unraveling like their past. "I think outside boxes. Pre-Law dropout, remember? Cardiff grit."
Laughter rumbled from him, rare. "Brendan’s daughter. Sharp as your mother’s Welsh tongue."
She froze. "How do you—"
"Know your family?" He nipped her earlobe. "Information broker. Checked when obsession started."
Obsession. Word hung, electric . Her nails raked his neck. "Mine or yours?"
"Both." He hoisted her higher, counter digging into her ass. Suit pants strained against arousal. She rocked forward, friction sparking.
Door buzzer shrieked—Eva's code, probably. Ignored.
"Prove it." Aurora unbuttoned his shirt, exposing pale chest marked with faint infernal runes, glowing faint under her touch.
Lucien's cane rolled underfoot as he kicked it aside. "Flat's warded. Eva out till dawn."
His mouth descended collarbone-ward, teeth grazing. She arched, black hair spilling across notes of demon pacts. Hurt thawed in waves—his absence a shield, not abandonment. Attraction roared back, primal.
"You smell like London rain and takeout." He inhaled at her neck, voice muffled.
"Delivery girl charm ." She freed his belt buckle, metal clinking. "Your suit's ruined."
"Buy ten more." Fingers popped her jeans button. Heat pooled low.
Ptolemy scratched at the bedroom door, insistent.
She halted his hand. "Past isn't gone. Trust fractured ."
He stilled, forehead to hers. Amber eye pleaded; black vowed. "Repair it. Together."
Words unsaid tumbled. "I hated you. Missed you more."
"Same." His kiss softened, exploratory . Tongues danced slower, rediscovering.
Jeans slid down her thighs. She kicked them free, boots thudding. His slacks followed, pooling at ankles. Bare skin met scorching flesh—half-demon pulse thrumming against her core.
Counter dug sharp, but she pulled him closer. "No vanishing."
"Never again." He thrust home, filling her in one claiming stroke. Gasps echoed off book-strewn walls.
Rhythm built—hips snapping, scrolls fluttering to floor. Her blue eyes locked on his, mismatched stare anchoring. Scarred wrist encircled his neck, pulling deeper.
Ptolemy battered the door harder.
Sweat slicked skin. Runes flared brighter on his chest, illuminating cramped chaos. Pleasure coiled tight, past hurts fueling urgency.
"Lucien." Her whisper broke on his name, walls of the flat trembling with their union.
He drove harder, breath ragged. "Aurora. Mine."
Tension peaked, bodies shuddering. Release crashed—hers first, clenching around him. He followed, growl demonic, spilling heat.
They slumped, panting. His arms caged her, cane forgotten amid debris.
Buzzer wailed again, persistent.
She laughed, breathless. "Eva's timing."
Lucien withdrew, smirking. Grabbed his slacks. "Wards hold."
She slid down, legs shaky. Pulled jeans on, eyes gleaming . "Now talk symbols. Cult details."
He nodded, retrieving cane. Leaned it nearby, buttoning shirt. Ptolemy slipped in, rubbing her calf.
Door rattled—Eva's key in first deadbolt.
"Together?" His hand squeezed hers.
"Always was." She squeezed back, scar pulsing under his thumb.