And speaking of comebacks, who had 'traitorous brother returns from the dead' on their supernatural bingo card?
Why the meltdown, you ask? She's got it in her head that Adrian's death is her fault.
Classic Dani, collecting guilt like Pokemon cards.
And don't even get me started on her soft spot for that backstabbing bookworm. My dear brother may have had the personality of a wet library card, but he still betrayed us harder than Loki on a bad day. Death by heart removal seemed pretty damn fitting if you ask me.
But nooooo.
That's our Dani—heart bigger than her common sense and twice as stubborn. She's got that look in her eyes that says she's about to adopt another lost cause. Mark my words. She will turn this into her personal redemption project faster than you can say "terrible life choices."
"¡Mis amores! ¡La comida está lista!" Rosa's voice carries through the mansion like a warm breeze. Then switches to her 'don't-test-me' tone: "And tell that demon if he comes near my kitchen, I'll beat him with my chancla!"
Ah, Rosa, the only person who can threaten supernatural beings with a sandal and make it sound endearing.
I start to stand when—holy mother of angelic pheromones—Phina's right there, hitting me with that heavenly aroma that makes my undead parts feel very much alive. My arms automatically wrap around, and I can't help the moan that escapes me.
Someone should bottle this scent. We'd make billions. 'Eau de Angel: Make Your Vampire Purr.'
But beneath her sweet exterior, I feel the guilt eating at her like acid. My perfect angel actually believes she's responsible for Lilith harvesting her blood like some twisted supernatural juice cleanse.
Right. Because getting vampire-napped by Fashion Week's Worst Nightmare is totally your fault, baby girl.
Under my sass and snark, I'm plotting murder with extreme prejudice. That couture-wrapped succubus stole my angel's essence and used it like some performance enhancer.
Nobody. Takes. What's. Mine.
My grip tightens around Phina like a protective cocoon of Christmas spirit and sass. "Hey, angel face. None of that sad stuff." I gently tilt her chin up, forcing her to meet my gaze. Those golden eyes, usually brighter than a supernova, now glisten with unshed tears.
Fuck me. Seeing her like this is like watching a unicorn cry. It's just wrong on so many levels.
"This is why we stayed in Atheria," she whispers like she's confessing to starting the Spanish Inquisition. "Why Elysium kept us hidden." Her voice catches like she's trying to swallow a holy hand grenade. "I let her take what we've worked so hard to keep hidden, to—"
"Stop." I thread my fingers through her silky hair, gentle but firm, like handling the world's most precious piece of divine art.
I'll be damned (again) if I let my angel carry this guilt. That's my job, along with making inappropriate jokes and looking fabulous in leather.
"You didn'tallowher to take anything, Cupcake. That's like saying Iallowedmyself to fall for an angel who's too good for my undead ass." I stroke her cheek with my free hand. "And we both know I was powerless against your celestial charms."
Look at me, being all romantic while maintaining my carefully crafted badass image. Somebody give this vampire an Oscar.
Phina's lower lip trembles and I have the overwhelming urge to kiss away every ounce of sadness. "But Lucian, I—"
"Nuh-uh. No buts, baby girl. Unless we're talking about your perfect angelic ass, in which case, I'm all for it."
There's my girl—that little eye roll means the sass is coming back.
"You're impossible," she huffs, but I catch that hint of a smile.
"Impossibly charming? Devastatingly handsome? Supernaturally gifted in the bedroom?"
Mission accomplished: Operation Make Angel Smile is a success. Now back to our regularly scheduled programming of being hopelessly whipped by a celestial being.
"But now she's using my essence to—" Seraphina starts, a hint of sass breaking through her sadness.
"To dig herself a deeper grave," I finish, pressing my forehead against hers. "Because she just pissed off the wrong vampire and his angelic gorgeous girlfriend."
Who, by the way, looksabsolutely edible even when she's sad. Is that wrong? Probably. Do I care? Not even slightly.
