Fuck my vampire hearing. Fuck it right to hell.
The wet sounds of skin-on-skin make me want to bleach my brain. Because,of course,she's getting railed by a shapeshifting demon while my angel's being held hostage.
"You like that, doll?" Brax's voice rumbles with a distinctly Brooklyn accent. "Want me to show you why they call me America's ass?"
No. NO. He fucking WOULDN'T.
"Yes, Captain!" Emily's enthusiastic response confirms my worst fears. "Paint me like one of your French girls—with your star-spangled banner!"
I spin away from the door, gagging.Great. Now I need therapy AND to burn my entire Marvel collection.
"Whatever it takes!" The distinct moan filters through the door, and—sweet fucking Christ—that's definitely not Brax's normal voice. The demon's got a thing for borrowing faces, but this? This is a whole new level of copyright infringement.
"Harder, Captain! Show this witch what that super-soldier serum can really do!"
Nope. That's it.
I slam my fist against the door hard enough to crack the frame. "Hey, assholes! Wrap up your 'Avengers: Infinity Whore' audition and get your asses out here. Some of us have an actual crisis to deal with!"
The symphony of super-soldier sexcapades cuts off like someone hit the emergency brake on the porn train. The door flies open to reveal Emily, looking like she just lost a fight with an electrical socket—her hair standing on end and magic sparking around her like a horny Tesla coil.
"Were you seriously creeping outside my door like some undead peeping Tom?" Her eyes narrow dangerously, promising hexes in my immediate future.
"Trust me, catching the X-rated version of 'Captain America: The First Avenger' wasn't on my bucket list." I bare my fangs in frustration. "But newsflash, genius—vampire hearing plus your decidedlynotsoundproofed room means I get front-row seats to your patriotic booty call whether I want them or not."
A flush creeps up her neck before her face hardens into its default setting of 'done with your shit.' "What do you want, Lucian?"
"Six hours," I snarl. "We've got six fucking hours before Lilith starts her angel dissection project and nothing from Dani. So either you unhex my vault, or I will start using your grimoire collection as vampire toilet paper."
Emily's eyes narrow dangerously. "You wouldn't dare."
"Try me, Sabrina. I'll start with that crusty leather one you keep under your pillow—you know, the one with thespecialsummoning spells?"
Emily glances at her watch, worry flickering across her face before being replaced by her trademark annoyance. "Still radio silence from our realm-hopping bestie, huh?" She runs a hand through her sex-mussed hair. "Fuck. Fine. Give me five to get... presentable."
The door slams forcefully to make Great-Aunt Gertrude's portrait rattle on the wall. Her voice carries through the not-so-soundproof barrier: "And Lucian? If I hear one single 'Star-Spangled Banner' joke out of you, I swear to every god in existence. I will personally relocate your fangs to your ball sack!"
Like, I'd risk that hex. Though I've got to admit, the jokes practically write themselves...
I roll my eyes and head back downstairs, the world's weight settling back on my shoulders with every step.
Damon and Sable are wrapped around each other on the couch, lost in their own little bubble of domestic bliss.Must be nice,I think bitterly,not having your mate's life hanging in the balance.I give them a wide berth, not trusting myself not to say something I'll regret later.
In the kitchen, Rosa is dancing to an upbeat salsa number, her hips swaying in time with the music as she pulls a steaming tray of enchiladas from the oven. The spicy aroma fills the room, but my stomach just twists into knots. Food is the last thing on my mind right now.
"Rosa," I clear my throat, making her jump. "Heads up—your least favorite demon's about to make an appearance. You know, the one you keep threatening to exorcise with your abuela's rosary?"
"¡Ay, Dios mío! ¡Ese demonio del diablo!" Rosa practically throws the pan onto the counter, crossing herself three times in rapid succession. "¡No, no, no! ¡Me voy! The food is ready, but I will not stay here with thatthingwearing faces like Halloween masks!"
She's out of the kitchen like her ass is on fire, probably heading straight for her room to reinforce her protection wards.
The bourbon's halfway to my lips when the realization hits me like a stake to the chest. I nearly drop the bottle, my mind racing with possibilities.
Well, fuck me sideways.
Brax's latest party trick—the one that made evenmyjaded ass do a double-take—could be precisely what we need.
A laugh bubbles up from my chest, dark and maybe a little unhinged. And here I've been, overthinking this shit for hours when the answer's been strutting around in borrowed skin this whole time.
