“Even though he almost never shuts you out? Which, by the way, is not the same thing as never.”

He shrugged. “He can be a horse’s ass sometimes. But then, so can I. The only time he’s shut me out for any significant length of time was when you told Dominic that Saul wasn’t dead.”

I winced. That had not been one of my most diplomatic moments. As far as most humans knew, demons died when they were exorcized. So when I performed the exorcism on Dominic—whose demon, Saul, had gotten a really bum rap—Dominic had mourned him as dead. Because it was against demon law to tell him the truth, neither Adam nor Saul had told him that exorcism would merely send Saul back to the Demon Realm, not kill him. I’d blurted it out at an inopportune moment, and had caused terrible strife in their relationship.

Adam had made Dom take the whip to him that night in penance, and it hadn’t been for anything like pleasure. Worse, Adam had refused to heal the wounds.

“I told him he was being a dickhead,” Adam continued, “and that he should just heal.” I must have looked horrified, because he hastened to reassure me. “I didn’t feel a thing. He was punishing himself, not me. Anyway, he wanted to wallow and he didn’t want to hear my opinion, so he shut me out until you brought him to his senses.”

There wasn’t much left in my cup, and what was there was lukewarm at best, but I took a sip anyway.

“Did you know Saul wasn’t dead?”

The corner of Adam’s mouth tightened just a fraction. “No. Adam’s let slip a few details here and there that I’m not supposed to know, but that wasn’t one of them. I probably would have been angry at him myself if he weren’t feeling so bad about Dom already.” He ran his thumb around the rim of his cup and sighed. “Maybe I was mad at him, and that’s why he shut me out. But he’s too loyal to Lugh to break demon law, and I understand that about him and accept it.”

“What was it like? Being shut out?”

He leaned forward to put his cup on the coffee table, but I think it was more to avoid meeting my gaze than anything. “It wasn’t fun.” He rubbed his hands together. “It was kind of like sitting at the bottom of a very dark, very deep oubliette. If he hadn’t popped in every once in a while to reassure me he hadn’t forgotten I was there…” He shivered. “I can see how your brother might have had trouble returning to himself if Raphael did that to him for long stretches of time.”

I shook my head. “And yet you still want him back?”

He banished the troubled look on his face. “He shut me out for maybe twelve hours, tops. And even when I was shut out, he made sure I knew it was temporary. In the grand scheme of things, it wasn’t really a big deal.”

Not to him, maybe. To me, it sounded like hell on earth. I sighed. “I don’t suppose I’ll ever understand.” To be so completely under someone else’s control…I had a hard time dealing with Lugh’s control over my dreams. I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be so helpless twenty-four hours a day, knowing it was for the rest of my life. I couldn’t imagine being willing to submit to that.

Adam shrugged. “Maybe not. But then, I knew for almost my entire life that I was going to host a demon one day, and Adam and I are extremely compatible. It all feels very…comfortable to me.”

I suppressed a shudder. “So you don’t mind when he uses your body to torture people? Or to kill them? Or, hell, to hurt Dominic?”

“He doesn’t do anything to Dom that Dom doesn’t want him to do. Dom was into that stuff even before he became a host.”

He was evading the important part of my question, but I thought that was answer enough in itself. He might put up a protest about his demon’s methods occasionally, but the protest was only skin deep. “What about you?” I asked him.

Damn, did I just ask what amounted to a complete stranger whether he was into S&M? Time for more blushing and avoidance of eye contact.

Adam chuckled. “I’ll plead the Fifth on that. Anything else you’d like to ask me?”

I meant to say no. Really I did. What came out instead was, “Does he hate me?”

Note to self: never have deep conversations after drinking unknown quantities of Frangelico in the wake of a traumatic event and not enough sleep.

Adam didn’t answer right away, which gave me a brief moment of hope that he’d ignore the question. No such luck.

“Do you hate him?” he countered.

I met his curious gaze and couldn’t find the voice to answer. I didn’t like Adam the demon. I thought he was a world-class asshole, and I found his morals questionable at best. But in moments of weakness, I sometimes caught myself lusting after him. I was pretty sure that meant I didn’t hate him.

“I think it’s time for me to go home and crash,” I said instead of answering the question.

I went home, slightly buzzed on caffeine, adrenaline, and alcohol, and wanted nothing more than to collapse into bed and sleep peacefully for a week or two. But I wasn’t in the least surprised that I didn’t get my wish.

Despite the caffeine and adrenaline, I think I must have fallen asleep within minutes of my head hitting the pillow, but I “awoke” almost instantly in Lugh’s living room. He’d added a massive stone fireplace to one wall, complete with merrily crackling fire, and the furniture was rearranged to make that fire the focal point. A deliciously soft afghan was draped over my shoulders, and my bare feet were propped on an ottoman, the better to drink in the warmth of the fire. I breathed deeply, taking in the scents of wood smoke, leather, and Lugh.

He was sitting beside me on the couch, his body a second source of warmth that soaked into my pores and relaxed clenched muscles. My lips curled up in a goofy smile, and I reveled in the gentle sensory overload of my dream. Some feeble, paranoid corner of my brain whispered that I was too relaxed, that I shouldn’t feel this at ease with Lugh by my side. I never had before. But I told that part of my brain to shut the hell up. This felt good, and, damn it, I deserved to feel good, if only for a little while.

I let my eyes slide shut, still smiling faintly. Lugh’s fingers traced over my face, caressing from forehead to chin and back again. The leather of his jacket creaked with his movement, and even that sound was soothing. I sighed and turned my face into the caress, my body relaxing even more.

“That’s it,” Lugh murmured in my ear, his breath warming my skin. “Let everything go. Don’t think. Just feel.”

That annoying voice in my brain said, “He’s up to something.” Once again, I ignored it. If he was up to something, I didn’t want to know.

Strong, warm fingers slid around to the back of my neck, digging into the tense muscles there and untying knots I didn’t know I had. I hummed in appreciation, so comfortable I didn’t even think to protest when he planted a soft kiss on my temple.

“How does that feel?” he asked.

I didn’t think I had enough brain cells firing to form words, so I settled for another incoherent hum of pleasure.

“Here with me, you are always safe,” he crooned. “Always protected. Always cherished.”

My body felt heavy, my limbs so limp it seemed like moving even a fraction of an inch would be just too much damn trouble. If it was possible to fall asleep while I was already asleep, I thought I might be on the verge of doing so.

“No one and nothing can harm you here,” he continued. “Not even your past. Do you believe me?”

I couldn’t summon the energy to say anything, but he must have sensed my agreement.

“Earlier today,” he said, and his voice was now so low it was positively hypnotic, “you started to remember something. Something about your stay at The Healing Circle.”

A chill shivered through me, and my muscles tensed. Lugh moved closer to me on the couch, his arm around my shoulders, his body pressed up against mine from shoulder to hip as he cupped my cheek in his palm.