In his long years, he’d seen countless atrocities perpetuated on humans by each other, but what they’d found in that lair was demon against human. In a showdown of human versus demon, the result was predetermined. Hell princes were meant to control demons and prevent such iniquities from taking place. They’d failed—him, the other hell princes, even the archangels.
Guilt was not an emotion he was familiar with. If guilt was what had him twisted up and was muddling his thinking, he didn’t care for it.
Bianca made that distressed noise again and he moved to her open doorway.
She lay on her back, one arm bent at the elbow and flung above her head. She’d eyed the pajamas he’d bought for her from the hotel gift shop with suspicion when he’d presented them to her. Of course she had. They were pale blue and silk, and her system had probably gone into shock about them not being black and cotton.
She whimpered and turned her head. Her eyes shifted beneath her lids, and she moaned.
He took a step closer. Something was disturbing Bianca’s dreams.
Her head lashed to the other side, and she keened a low, “Nooo.”
Lucifer found himself in a quandary. He didn’t, as a rule, hesitate to do exactly what he wanted, when he wanted. He’d wanted to refill her wine, and it hadn’t given him a moment’s pause that she’d been naked and in the bath.
Hindsight being as infuriatingly accurate as it was, he should have thought that action through. Bianca’s dewy, ivory skin peaking above the water had affected him far more than he was comfortable admitting to himself. Scrubbed free of makeup, her face was vulnerable and much younger than her formidable personality suggested.
“No, no, no,” she murmured. Tears tracked from the corners of her eyes into her hairline. Her face contorted in pain.
Decision made, he sat on the edge of the bed and shook her lightly. “Bianca?”
She tensed and came awake instantly. Lingering pain haunted her eyes. “What are you doing?”
Immediately, her barriers tried to sneak past her inner turmoil, but it was a poor effort, which told him all he needed to know about how bad her dreams had been.
Giving in to the urge, Lucifer scooped her into his lap. “I’m comforting you.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to.” He enfolded her against his chest. “And because I know you need it. Now, stop being a pain in my ass and be comforted.”
Bianca snort laughed against his chest, but she relaxed into his hold. “I didn’t think comforting was your thing.”
“Generally, it’s not.” He ran a hand down her back. The knobs of her spine were prominent beneath the silk of her top. He commended his taste in sleepwear—elegant and comfortable. “How am I doing?”
“Good,” she whispered and pressed her face into his neck. Her breath huffed warm and damp against his skin. She took a sniff. “You smell good.”
“Of course I do.” He rested his chin on her head.
She chuckled.
Her silky, sable hair smelled of flowers and herbs. “What were you dreaming about?”
“Unicorns and sparkly rainbows.”
This haglette of his would be the end of him. “Try again.”
“The bodies,” she whispered.
“Ah.” He had guessed as much. “Would you like to tell me about it?”
“No.”
Lucifer understood. He wasn’t one for jawing crap through either. “Would it help if I told you that wasn’t the end for those witches?”
“Are you going to give me some religious talk?” She huffed and wriggled in his hold. “Because I should tell you right now that I’m pagan.”
“No.” He wrapped her close to him. “But those religions that include reincarnation are as close to the truth as it gets.”
“Huh.” She settled into his hold.
He didn’t want to let her go yet, so he said, “I telephoned the theatre, and Emma and Ethan are well.”
“You phoned?” She pulled her head back and looked at him.
She had the most fetching mouth, almost too wide and full for her fine features, but somehow it worked. He could also tell from the gleam in her eyes that he was about to get some of her impudence. It was so much better than her nightmares. “You find that strange?”
“Yeah.” She rolled her eyes before tucking herself beneath his chin. “Don’t you have some kind of super mind ju-ju or something?”
And there was that cheek. He struggled not to laugh. “No telepathic powers. At least, not across a distance.”
“But you would if you were closer?” She wound her fingers in the hem of her sleep shorts.
“Not as you would understand them.” He didn’t know why he was explaining his powers to a human, and a witch at that, but he did anyway. “We can sense presences and power signatures. We’ve also been around each other for so long that we can sense what the other will do.”
“Hmm.” Her fingers migrated from her shorts to his shirt. “Telepathy would be better.”
“Absolutely not,” he said without a moment’s hesitation. “I have no desire to know what my fellow hell princes are thinking.” He couldn’t suppress a shudder. “Dear hells, Wrath’s thoughts alone would fry my mind.”
