Page 4 of Dark Prince

A barrage of burning butterflies invade my stomach. He winks at me and walks away, strolling casually across the street and into Rinata—my restaurant.

Damn. I stare after him, biting my bottom lip.Maybe I should go back and offer to work a double.

I’m trying to remember why that’s a bad idea when Cassidy pulls up in front of me.

“Hey, Soph. Where’s the food?” she asks with a frown. Then her eyebrows rise. “And why are you only wearing one shoe?”

Chapter2

Lucifer

After fifty yearsin this town, I thought I’d run out of firsts. First drive-by, first movie set, first mob encounter, first gang war. However, “first shoe thrown at a reckless driver” didn’t even make the list of potential firsts, as it never even crossed my mind as a possible occurrence.

It’s been a long, long time since a human has managed to surprise me.

“Mr. Hale! It’s a pleasure to have you in. I have your reservation for two. Is that correct?”

The petite hostess is trying very hard to keep the excited nervousness out of her voice, but she can’t quite manage it. I wonder if she’s like that with actors too, or if she has a particular fascination with wealthy businessmen.

“Yes,” I confirm curtly.

Her eyes light up, and she leads me back to the private table, surrounded on three sides by sound-proof walls and separated from the rest of the restaurant by a few strategically placed decorative plants. I watch her bounce proudly through the restaurant, glancing this way and that to make sure that her coworkers see who she’s leading.

“Anything to drink?” she asks as I sit.

“Bourbon, neat.”

“Right away, sir.” She nods before scurrying away as fast as her little feet can carry her.

Humans. So slow.

The thought passes idly through my head, and as it does, my mind returns to Sophia Gallo. Saving her was a stupid thing to do. Displaying supernatural speed—well, supernatural by human standards, anyway—on a public street could very easily have undone everything I’ve been working toward for the last fifty years. I don’t flaunt my true status or abilities. As a rule, I stay under the radar. No human needs to know that demons live and walk among them.

If anyone saw me zip across the street and get her out of harm’s way, they will have questions. Dangerous questions, the answers to which would put many lives—every life, perhaps—in danger. I accept my drink from the hostess with a smile, then shake my head at myself in disgust as she turns away once more.

I should have let the car hit her. What do I care if some woman gets flattened on the pavement?

In my mind’s eye, I see her there again. Her auburn hair a fiery halo around her pale face, her big green eyes reflecting her imminent demise, the harsh headlights illuminating her curves against the evening gloom in a stark silhouette.

For some reason, I couldn’t bear the thought of watching her be injured or killed so gruesomely—not that I’m weak stomached by any standard. I’m no hero, not even in the stories. I’ve watched plenty of people die and felt nothing. I’ve arranged deaths without a second thought. I’m Lucifer, damn it. The actual devil, evil incarnate, and I was just suckered into exposing myself to the world thanks to a damsel in distress.

“You keep thinking that hard, you’ll give yourself wrinkles.”

A voice draws me out of my thoughts, and I look up to see the man—well, demon—I came here to meet.

Havek’s grin is a little too wide, and he reeks of fear, adrenaline seeping from every pore. He should know better by now. If you follow the rules and make all the little demons in your territory follow the rules, you never have to have dinner with the big guy.

He didn’t follow the rules.

“Have a seat,” I tell him coldly.

Obediently, Havek sits. His human form looks vaguely Russian, slightly shorter and bulkier than I am, with a bald head and plenty of tattoos and piercings. He fits right into his chosen territory, but not so well in the upscale restaurant. That’s why I brought him here. I don’t want him feeling too comfortable when I call him out on his horrific management.

“What’s this about?” Havek asks nervously as he shuffles himself into the booth.

I give him a long, flat look as I take a sip of my drink. I savor it, tasting it thoroughly, letting him stew in his own discomfort as I take in the oaky, smoky notes of the alcohol.

“I’m having a problem,” I tell him. “Do you know what that problem is?”

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