Demon King (Claimed By Lucifer #1) - Elizabeth Briggs Page 0,45

afternoon nap. Today was about sloth, after all.

Sleep came easily for a change, but it wasn’t peaceful. I woke up curled in a ball and wrapped tightly around a pillow, as I often did. Tense, with my muscles sore and stiff, like I’d spent the day in the gym rather than at the spa. And the dreams… I never remembered specifics, just fear and darkness, pain and death. Only snippets, but always violent and tinged with terror and grief.

This nap was no exception. I was fairly sure my inability to sleep peacefully had gotten worse since I met Lucifer. It was probably being out of my element, in a strange place and a deeply unsettling situation, but I longed to just close my eyes and wake up hours later with no memories of anything at all.

Sometime during my fitful sleep the sun had set, and I sat up to look out my window at the night sky lit up by all the Vegas lights. The sound of piano music drifted through the crack under my door, luring me toward the living room like a siren’s call. Where Lucifer was no doubt waiting for me.

I checked my spa-teased hair and makeup in the bathroom, glad to note they had survived my nap pretty well. I fluffed my hair and dabbed on a bit of lip gloss before stepping inside my walk-in closet and marveling at all the gorgeous clothes inside. It was still hard to believe they were mine, at least temporarily. I wasn’t sure what Lucifer had planned for tonight, but I guessed my yoga pants and t-shirt weren’t going to cut it. Instead, I selected a long black dress, the fabric soft and airy and with a gentle shimmer. Then I grabbed the first pair of black heels I put my hands on, and there were many, as if they were breeding in there. As I buckled the straps, the music escalated into a crescendo. Was Lucifer the one playing?

Curiosity drove me out of the room. Not just about the music, but about a dozen other things. Demons. Brandy’s kidnapping. The attacks on my life. And most of all, how I’d swung that sword around like the world’s mightiest warrior instead of a florist from Nowheresville.

Okay, and a big part of me wanted to continue what we’d started last night too.

Peeking into the living room, I watched Lucifer from behind as his fingers flew over the ivory keys of the grand piano. He seemed to be one with his music, and the effect was pure magic. I was completely entranced by the way he played, not to mention the slant of his shoulders in his black suit and the way his dark head bent over the piano. I’d never seen a man more gorgeous in my life, and I’d never wanted anyone more.

I didn’t recognize the piece he played, but it was haunting, full of minor keys and slow melodies. The room was lit by dozens of red candles, and the ambient lighting turned low so the city’s neon backlit the flickering flames. The shadows created by the effect were beautiful rather than scary, and I was drawn to them.

And to him. Always. Impossibly so.

The question was…why?

Lucifer must have sensed I was there because he cocked his head. “Please, come in.”

“What’s all this?” I rounded the piano and gestured at the candlelight.

“I thought we could stay in tonight. Nice and quiet. Safe.” The music faded as Lucifer reached the conclusion of the song. He nodded toward the windows. “I’ve posted guards everywhere to ensure your protection.”

I turned my gaze to the tall windows and focused on the darkness around the Vegas neon. It was almost like looking with my peripheral vision, but eventually I saw them. Dark-winged Fallen, circling the building, with shadows clinging to their feathers. I had no doubt Azazel was out there, and probably Gadreel too.

“All to protect me,” I said slowly, still finding the situation unbelievable. “Why?”

“I won’t let anyone harm you.”

I nearly replied that he hadn’t really answered my question, but then he rose from the piano bench and took my breath away. The flickering candlelight played across his face and only made him more alluring. A mixture of dark and light. A reminder that the devil was once an angel.

Lucifer stepped toward me and offered his hand. “I hope you’re hungry.”

I hesitated, not because I didn’t want to take his hand, but because I so desperately did, and because I knew I’d feel