I knew that, but it still hurt to feel him withdraw from me as he was doing now. I held on tight and tried to think of something clever to say, something that would deflect the tension. Nothing leapt to mind.

Despite my clingy monkey hold, Brian managed to escape my arms, but he didn’t resume dressing, so I tried not to despair. He sat on the edge of the bed, his brow still furrowed with thought. I wanted to kiss that furrow away, but suspected he wouldn’t appreciate an overture right now.

He didn’t even look up as I dropped the towel and slipped into a comfy, beat-up bathrobe. I gathered the robe tightly around me and climbed onto the bed, sitting with my back against the headboard, giving Brian his space.

“So whenever we make love, he’s, uh … there?” Brian asked.

I blinked in surprise. “Brian, he’s always there.”

He waved that away. “I know he’s always in residence, as it were. I just thought …” He shook his head. “I don’t know what I thought. Maybe that he politely shut his eyes when we were in bed.”

I refrained from pointing out that my eyes were Lugh’s eyes. “I don’t think he could even if he wanted to.”

Brian nodded mutely, and I had a feeling he was going through some of our more … exotic encounters in his mind. I know I was.

“Lugh and I are a package deal,” I said, though why I felt the need to restate the obvious I don’t know. I guess I just don’t do that well with awkward silences.

“Yeah.” He rubbed his chin, lost in thoughts he chose not to share with me.

Hurt stabbed through me, though there was really no reason for it. It wasn’t me Brian was withdrawing from. But for the first time, I started thinking about what my future would be like with my demon passenger. Maybe I should have thought about it before, but since I’d first found out I was possessed, my future had looked so uncertain—as in I was unlikely to have a future—that I hadn’t put much thought into it.

I still didn’t know what would happen between Brian and me, even if I managed to get rid of Lugh somehow. We’d put some jumbo-sized Band-Aids on our relationship, and so far they seemed to be holding strong. But how long would that last? Sure, I was being more open and honest with Brian now than I had been in the past, trusting him when trust had always eluded me before. But my life had taught me a fundamental truth: People don’t change, even if your perceptions of them do. So where did that leave me?

Wallowing in self-pity, apparently.

I shook it off as best I could, forcing a semicheerful smile. “Guess I’m not getting laid this afternoon, huh?”

Brian gave a little huff of what might have been laughter. “Guess not. But I still have high hopes for later tonight.” He reached over and took my hand, squeezing it firmly. “Just give me a little time to get used to the idea, okay?”

I wasn’t sure which idea it was he needed to get used to: Lugh’s desire, or just the fact that Lugh was our silent partner when we had sex, the ultimate voyeur. Maybe it didn’t matter.

I nodded my acceptance, then leaned in for a kiss—the action instinctive rather than planned. Brian hesitated for a fraction of a second before he pressed his lips to mine, giving me a firm but closedmouth kiss.

Brian is way too perceptive not to notice that his halfhearted kiss stung me, but he pretended not to.

“How about dinner tonight?” he asked. He glanced at his watch. “I’ll pick you up around seven, okay?”

“Sure,” I said as my heart sank a little lower. Something told me a single afternoon wasn’t going to be enough time for Brian to sort things through, and our dinner tonight was going to be an awkward and uncomfortable affair. But I just didn’t have it in me to turn him down.

WHEN I’M STRESSED OUT, I CLEAN. THESE LAST TWO months of relative peace had kept my stress level manageable, which meant my apartment was a pigsty. Worrying about what was going to happen with Brian was enough to galvanize me into action, so I got to work practically as soon as the door closed behind him.

I quickly lost myself in the familiar rhythm, my thoughts focused on nothing except the task at hand. Some people meditate; I scrub toilets. What can I say?

At around five, Brian called and told me his boss had suddenly ordered him back to work, so he’d have to take a rain check on dinner. My throat tightened with worry, though I tried not to show it. I gracefully accepted his apology and his offer of a rain check, then hung up the phone before I started to hyperventilate.

It was true that in Brian’s line of work, it wouldn’t be that unusual for his boss to call him out of the blue at any hour of the day or night. Certainly it had happened before. But with this afternoon’s discussion looming large in my mind, I couldn’t help wondering if this had been a convenient excuse, rather than a genuine need to work.

Just give him a little time, Lugh said, and I snarled softly.

“Easy for you to say when you’re the one who screwed me over in the first place!”

Of course, he didn’t answer. I resisted the urge to throw the phone across the room. There was no point in arguing with Lugh—his ability to rummage around in my head gives him an unfair advantage. But I was sick of cleaning house, and I didn’t think it would absorb my thoughts so effectively anymore. What I needed right now, I decided, was human contact. And what better human was there than someone who could understand exactly what Brian and I were going through?

Dominic Castello is the former host of the demon Saul, Raphael’s son. But what made him singularly perfect as a confidant under the circumstances was that his boyfriend, Adam, was still possessed, making their relationship into a really weird ménage à trois very similar to my own situation.

Among his other sterling qualities, Dominic is also a fantastic cook, and he’d finally taken the plunge and bought a restaurant. Actually, I’m pretty sure it was Adam who’d bought the restaurant, because Dominic didn’t have that kind of money, but Dominic was the official owner. The grand opening wasn’t for another week yet, but I knew Dom was in the process of training his staff right now, so I decided to take a gamble in hopes of combining a free meal with good company.

Dominic’s restaurant was within walking distance, but when I stepped outside, I almost wished I’d called a cab. The air was like a wet, stifling blanket, and I was drenched with sweat by the time I got to the restaurant.

A smile stretched my lips when I saw the newly installed sign over the front door. Apparently, the restaurant was going to be called “Dominic’s.” Simple, and to the point. And probably Adam’s idea, because Dom was way too modest to want to name the place after himself. A handwritten sign in the doorway said, “Opening soon,” but I could see shadows of movement behind the closed curtains.

I rapped on the door a couple of times, and eventually one of those shadows moved in my direction. The door opened, and a rail-thin Italian woman with discreetly graying hair gave me the once-over before saying, “We’re not open yet. The grand opening is in one week.”

She started closing the door before I had a chance to say anything, and I was momentarily flummoxed by her rudeness. If this was the kind of staff Dom was hiring, I had to wonder what he was thinking.

Luckily, Dominic emerged from the kitchen at that moment and saw me.

“Morgan!” he said, sounding delighted as he waved to me from across the room.

The bitch at the door pursed her lips in obvious disapproval, but she halted her effort to slam the door in my face. I wondered what her problem was, then reminded myself that many people her age found my outlandish appearance somewhat disconcerting. Aside from the multiple piercings in my ears and my conspicuously sexy wardrobe, I’m also a five-foot-nine redhead, so I tend to make an impression everywhere I go. She fingered a truly hideous crucifix that was tucked away under the collar of her white blouse, and for a moment I feared she was going to shove it in my face like I was a vampire.