Page 12 of Premonition of Peace

“Why not simply say that and give me the choice? If you’d been honest with me?—”

“You weren’t ready to hear it. I still don’t know that you are, but my patience grows thin. I’m not a creature that is accustomed to hurting and when I do . . .” He looked away, the sharp planes of his face taking on a darker edge. “I care for you enough to want to be better and spare you my wrath.”

“Lucifer . . .” I sighed. Unable to help myself, I wrapped my arms around his shoulders. He grabbed me by the waist, pulling me into his embrace. “I wasn’t lying when I said I’m too tired to deal with this. I need time to process. To think things through.”

“We have nothing but time.”

“And with that,” I started, more cautious in my approach now that I understood where he was coming from. The way he’d gone about it might be screwed up, but the motivation was from a good place. For better or worse, I trusted that, and him. “I need space.”

“I don’t like that.”

Under different circumstances I would have chuckled. Instead, I pulled back to look him in the eyes. “I didn’t think you would. But if you really want me, then give me a second to catch my breath.”

“What exactly does ‘space’ look like? I’m not leaving this apartment unless you are too, so don’t ask it of me.”

“There are going to be ground rules.”

“Rules?” He repeated the word like it tasted bad. “I’ve never been a fan of confinements, little witch. You don’t cage a demon.”

“Be caged or sleep elsewhere.”

“Hard bargain.” He flashed me a seductive smile. “Tell me more.”

I hold up one finger. “First, you sleep in the guest room.”

“The guest room is for guests,” he responded with distaste. “Anyone who has had you in the positions I have is not a guest.”

“Second,” I said loudly, shooting him a glare as I held up a second finger, “you can’t follow me everywhere anymore. Even in the veil. I need to have my own privacy. The ability to choose what I share with you.”

He glared at me, and I stared right back, daring him to protest. “And what if something happens and I’m not there to stop it?”

I snorted. “You mean like you stopped ‘it’ all those times as a ghost?” I cocked an eyebrow.

“I couldn’t then. I can now.”

“Is this coming from a place of worrying about me or wanting to stalk me?”

The thread between us pulsed. Begrudgingly, Lucifer said, “Both.”

I shook my head, a smile threatening to bloom. “Time,” I repeated. “And space. That’s what I need right now. With Not-Sasha and Marcel’s ailing health, I have a lot on my mind, and I can’t just set that aside to deal withus.”

“Baggage hardly deserves your time,” Lucifer griped.

“Lucifer.”

“Fine, but only because it’s a matter of time before you want me back in your room and in your bed.”

“Yeah, right,” I scoffed, but the sound died in my throat as he kissed my forehead. It was oddly sweet and protective, not at all what I associated with Lucifer.

“Oh, I know I’m right,” he said as his breath fanned over my face. “What we share is not so easily ignored, little witch.”

And with those words, he retreated to the guest room. I sat there for a minute, my heart racing and sending pulses to places that were better left unexplored for now. Food forgotten, I drained my cup of tea and tossed my toast into the compost pale, then went to my room.

Centering myself, I slipped into the relief of my own internal thoughts. Instead of the peace and organization I was hoping for, entering my memory loci was like entering a war zone.

Inside, everything was in complete disarray, but I supposed I couldn’t be mad. My memory loci was a reflection of my scattered thoughts. All of the versions of me that existed were agitated, which just made things worse.

Peace was stubbornly refusing to leave the greenhouse, and she kept yelling insults at the others through the door. Meanwhile, Caretaker tried in vain to coax her out. The Warden and Bad Nat were engaged in their usual heated arguments. Annwas flipping through books like mad, tossing them aside when they didn’t have what she was looking for.

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