She steps back, and her eyes shift up so she can see my face. I’m not the praying sort. I was born in Hell, so that sort of thing is frowned upon, but I know I will worship at her altar. My instincts are demanding I wrap my arms around her and slide my tongue up the side of her throat to make her forget what’s making her heart ache, but thankfully, Harlow taught me there’s more than carnal pleasures.
“I would like to offer my services.”
“Your services? What would those be?” Lore questions, and even through her heartache and confusion, I sense her interest.
“Anything you need.”
* * *
Lore
Havingthe Prince of Lust offer his services might be welcome to many on most days, but call me cynical. I’m more worried about the price those services might come with. “Do you know where Harlow is?”
“I do not, but I want to help you find him,” Modeus answers smoothly. His voice is deep, with a raspy edge that makes me think of cool sheets and scorching nights.
“Salvador mentioned you’ve been spending time with him. Tell me what that was about.” I don’t want to give away that I was already aware of this, that I noticed Modeus from the first moment he showed up in Obsidian Angels’ territory.
“He was—”
“Was?” I interrupt, my blade already palmed.
He looks down at me with milky blue eyes the same color of the Blue Lagoon in Iceland, his roguish black hair sweeping across his forehead, and something inside my chest shifts. What the hell was that?
“Forgive me.Ismy mentor.” He drops his head and his eyes infinitesimally, as if he’s yielding to me, and his black horns catch the light. Again, I think, what the hell is going on here?
“What kind of mentor?” I don’t know if I trust him. Harlow told me I could, so is that why I want to trust him, or is it just because I’m desperate? Modeus shifts his gaze, peering at Salvador behind me.
“My bonds to Hell have been broken,” he admits and then turns that arctic stare back on me. “Harlow offered me guidance.”
“Then you owe him loyalty?” This is something I understand, something tangible, and his continued presence makes more sense now. One would assume being freed from Hell is a good thing, but it would still be a massive upheaval. I’m bound to my home, and without it, I would be lost, floundering for my sense of power and belonging. Eventually, I would become so weak, I would turn to stone and cease to exist, which is why it’s so important to find my dad.
Harlow gave him a chance, a place to belong, and that’s a big deal. Not everyone would welcome a prince of Hell into their midst, then offer him a place in his club.
“Allegiance, fidelity, and devotion,” he agrees, and his voice grows a little deeper with every word, as if he’s pledging the truth of his vow right now.
“Good, but if you cross me, you’ll pray for the devil himself to take you back to Hell before I get through with you.”
Modeus blinks slowly, seductively. The tipping of his lips could be called a smile, but only by someone who has no understanding of the word. He lights up, even his eyes seem to glow, and he somehow becomes more attractive.
Salvador clears his throat, and I’m more than grateful for the excuse to look away from the temptation in front of me. “Did he tell you he was leaving?” he asks Modeus.
“He told me he would be away, but not for how long,” Modeus answers, responding to Salvador, but he continues to watch me.
“He didn’t tell you where he was going?” I ask, wanting to know what kind of relationship they really have, or maybe it’s to prove I’m not the only one who didn’t know what Harlow was up to.
“Not directly, but I assumed he went to see hisbashert.”
“Bashert?” I question. I’ve never heard the word before.
“His mate,” Modeus clarifies. Well shit, it looks like I might be the only one who didn’t know what the hell was going on.
“The tomb was the first place I checked. It didn’t look like he’d been there in a while,” Salvador informs Modeus.
“That’s where I would start,” he suggests, disregarding Salvador’s insistence that he already checked my mother’s resting place. I would have wanted to check for myself anyway.
My stone exterior melts away, leaving me much more vulnerable. The shift catches me off guard. It wasn’t a conscious decision, but it is proof I don’t feel threatened by Modeus, not in the usual sense.
“What about Sabastian?” My question is directed at Salvador, but it’s not him who answers.
