Page 79 of Knight’s Dominion

She stared at him, face flushed with embarrassment, eyes sharp, bright.

He planted his hands on his hips. Fuck. How could he get through to her? How could he get her to trust him? “Okay, yeah, we have an unusual arrangement…but, Grace, you need to hear me, because this is the important part. You. Are. My. Mate. There is no get-out-of-jail-free card here, this is it, you and me for as long as we live. That’s a fucking long time.” His hands dropped to his sides, fists clenched. "So no matter what's going on between us, no matter where you are, even if you're on the other side of the fucking world, if you need something, anything, you come to me. You reach out to me, trust me, and I will be the one to give it to you. Because that’s my job, my privilege. I don’t need payment, there is no barter system between us. I give to you and I’ll keep on giving to you because I want to, I need to. Understand?"

She sucked in a sharp breath. “I made a bad call, okay, I’m sorry but…”

"Do you understand?"

He could see in her eyes that he’d said too much. He was asking for blind trust, and that wasn't something she gave easily or lightly. She depended only on herself, had for a long time, and now he was asking her to put her faith in him, to trust that he wouldn’t misuse it. She wasn’t ready to give it to him.

“Not really. No,” she said, confirming it.

"Don't worry. You will. Let’s go.” He grabbed his jacket, shrugged it on, then headed for the door.

He didn't want to talk anymore. Right now all the things on the tip of his tongue were better left unsaid, for both of them.

CHAPTER 22

Zenon struggled to breathe, his skin crawling, and his chest pumping so hard the bed shook.

Somehow Diemos had found a way into his head, his dreams, and was trying to call to Zenon’s inner demon. The nightly visits hadn’t let up and he wasn’t sure how much more he could take.

He rolled Mia into his side and soaked up the warmth of her body, her soft hair tickled his skin, her addictive scent easing the hurricane building inside him. She made a sweet little sound and wriggled closer, and his heart literally ached with how much he loved her.

She was his everything. His reason for every breath he took.

Diemos was in his head. Not in this room with them, nowhere near his precious mate—still that was too close for Zenon. Far too fucking close.

He struggled to control his breathing, not wanting to wake her. Mia hadn’t been sleeping well either, worried about the future, worried for him. He would do anything to relieve her fears.

Burying his nose against her thick red hair, he squeezed his eyes shut and breathed her in, desperately seeking calm.

But even though Diemos resided in Hell, he wouldn’t leave him. His face, his presence bounced around Zenon’s head. His father had found a way to reach him, just like he’d promised, and the sickening, suffocating sensation wouldn’t leave him alone. It was oily and dark and thick. Made him want to scrub his fucking skin raw.

Zenon didn’t want that evil anywhere near Mia.

Gently removing her arms from around his waist, he climbed out of bed, tucked the covers around her, then shoved on a pair of jeans and left their apartment. He needed to clear his head.

The control room was empty when he walked in, which was a good thing because he didn’t want to talk about this, not yet.

Pushing through the doors, he strode outside to the balcony and gripped the railing. He filled his lungs with night air, and his wings sprung from his back, ready to take flight. A short one, just to shake this feeling.

He saw movement in the shadows and spun around…and stilled.

He knew who it was instantly, the male who stepped from the darkened corner and into the moonlight. Knew deep in his soul.

Zenon took in the other male. They were around the same height, and he had black hair like Zenon’s as well, only the male watching him closely had his buzzed at the sides and longer on top. It was slicked back, revealing pale yellow eyes, also like Zenon’s, only lighter. The male wore a black T-shirt with Prada printed across the front—he obviously had a sense of humor—and his skin was covered with ink, except for his face, which was ink-free. Well, mostly ink-free. Something was written in sloping script above his left eyebrow, which was arched as Zenon’s gaze met his again.

They looked roughly the same age by human standards, mid-twenties. Could be brothers with the similarities.

“Lucifer,” Zenon said, still not moving, not fucking blinking.

A smile curled the former king of Hell’s lips. “No hug for Grandpa?”

Zenon remained still as Lucifer came closer, as the older male circled him slowly. It was pointless doing anything else. Lucifer could click his fingers and turn Zenon to dust if he chose to.

“Your wings,” Lucifer said, hand lifting almost cautiously. “They’re kickass. Can I?”

Zenon’s wings were not like his brothers’. They weren’t feathers; they were leathery, like a bat, all demon. Nothing about them said he was half angel. Inside he recoiled at the idea of letting anyone but Mia touch them, but he found himself dipping his chin, granting Lucifer permission.