Page 2 of All the Devils are Here

“Of course.”

She shouldered the backpack once more, lugging the suitcase up my thin stairs, and it wasn’t lost on me that she changed the subject.

I tried not to look at her as she went up the stairs, and failed completely. Whenever Meg was near, I wasn’t able to take my eyes off her. She wasn’t my mate—not in the way her best friend Christine was to my friends, but it didn’t change anything.

Her scent lived in my nose even when she wasn’t here, and since the first time I met her, shortly after the opera house incident that had turned Paris upside down, I’d had to hold myself back.

Unlike Christine, Meg was mortal. It wasn’t fair to her to get involved with someone who would outlive her a hundred times. Despite the fact that she was a walking temptation and had made it clear she was interested. We’d made the mistake once.

I shook my head and closed the front door, going into the kitchen to make some coffee for the two of us. She would need some after a long trip, and I needed some to wake me up. And maybe to pretend I didn’t know Meg would jump at the chance to be with me. I was an asshole, but it was for the best.

It wasn’t an accident that my English was much better than it had been three years ago, and that I offered my home to Meg whenever she happened to be here. I wished she were here more.

Apparently, I enjoyed torturing myself.

I heard her footsteps on the stairs. “Would you like some coffee?”

“That would be amazing.” She sat at my small table, and in this small kitchen, her scent filled the room. Only wearing sweatpants, I needed to be careful. Just being around her—

“And thank you,” Meg said quietly. “For letting me stay. I know it’s probably an imposition.”

“You’re always welcome here, Meg. You know that.”

There were flashes in my mind of the first time she’d stayed here with me. Christine and their Majesties had just left the city, and Meg had a few more days. The flashes were dark, breathless, and filled with heat.

Those brief moments in this very kitchen were some of the best in my very, very long life. But they couldn’t happen again. Alex said I was being foolish, and the other two kings echoed his sentiment.

Maybe they were right, but it was self-preservation. Meg was someone—

I cut the thoughts off as best I could, but they were still there. It would be so easy to fall in love with Meg. Despite my fears, I was halfway there already. And I knew deep in my gut, despite the fact that she wasn’t my mate, I wouldn’t be able to live after she was gone. Not if I’d loved her. I had a bleak, brutal, and empty eternity in front of me, and I didn’t want to spend all of it broken and grieving.

And aside from that, I was protecting her. She wasn’t safe with me, and I couldn’t tell her why.

Meg cleared her throat, and we startled out of the tense silence I’d created. “Well, I appreciate it.”

Turning, I took two mugs from the cupboard and began to pour them. “What are your plans while you’re here?”

“I don’t know. I’m pretty open until Christine gets here. I might just do some sightseeing, the way I usually don’t get to. Tomorrow my friend Janelle invited me to a boat party. She was in Joan as well.”

The few times she’d been here before, she’d been here for work. Being in theJoan D’Arcrevival had given everyone in the cast a certain level of fame and notoriety. Not in a bad way, but now there was work in Paris for them when there otherwise might not have been.

“It’s a little cold for a boat,” I said.

Meg shrugged. “Probably, but I don’t have anything better to do. But tonight I thought I might go to Club Spectre.”

I spun, pinning her with my stare, and found her smirking. “You want to go clubbing after such a long flight?”

“You know me, Laurent. I never stop moving. Besides,” she winked. “I need to stay up for the jet lag. I’d rather stay awake while dancing and drinking than sitting in bed desperately trying to keep my eyes open.”

I glanced at the time. It was later than I thought—almost evening. Meg was known in our community now as Christine’s friend. And after the opera fire, no one was inclined to make the Kings angry.

Most people didn’t know how laid back the Kings were, and they preferred to keep it that way, allowing things to quietly rule themselves out of assumed order. So Meg would be safe at the club. But that didn’t mean I wanted her to go.

Because the thought of her dancing with someone else drove me mad in ways I shouldn’t be thinking about. I had no claim to Meg, no matter how much I wished.

“You know yourself best.”

She laughed and came over to retrieve her coffee, and I didn’t dare move from my spot leaning against the counter. Her arm brushed mine, and I might as well have been in my stone form for how much I was moving right now.

---