she selected the only word that could describe him.
“That’s a difficult question to answer.”
“Will you just answer it?” Irritated, she wiped tears away.
“Do you promise not to have an attack of the vapors, if I do?” He asked again, more to assure himself she was thinking clearly.
“I'm not going to faint, damn it!” She snarled.
She pressed her knuckles to the ache forming in her temple. Petulantly, she threw the weight of her body back into the couch, wearily closing her aching eyes. The suddenness of her actions appeared to place Lucien at a loss, and he remained silent for a long while.
When he did speak, his words were soft, as if he were aware of her speedily growing headache.
“You’re the first person I’ve known who has had the otherworld revealed to them.” He cleared his throat, and frowned. She opened her eyes, wondering why it appeared difficult for him.
“Continue,” she ordered.
“You truly amazed me." He admitted ruefully. "You see what is impossible for most to understand, yet known I speak the truth.”
She watched him exhale a slow breath and wondered why the action brought a cryptic smirk to his otherwise placid features.
“There’s so much I want to say, Evangeline,” he admitted. “I don’t know how much you’ll accept.”
His lips tightened while he lowered his hand. He longed to reassure her, but comfort seemed impossible. His gaze lifted to the supernatural being hovering nearby, and there was deep-seated resignation evident in his face.
Uncertain whether she’d bolt from his apartment in terror, he was grateful she hadn’t reverted to the proverbial screaming banshee at the precise moment she’d seen the spectral image.
“If I can accept a disembodied spirit, I assure you I’m not going to freak out with whatever else you have to show me.”
“My name is Lucien,” he began, his words halting.�
“I already know that much,” she snapped irritably, sensing he was stalling.
“I was born Lucien D'Angel.”�
“Fine,” Eva attempted an uncaring shrug at his admission. “D’Angel. I suppose that explains why I couldn't Google you.”
“Except for my books and show, you wouldn’t have found anything under the name Angeles.” He admitted with a chilling smirk. “If you used D’Angel, though, you would have discovered something far more sinister.”
She paused and her eyes narrowed. “Give it a rest, D’Angel. If you had a sinister past, there’d be a mug shot somewhere.”
He shook his head. “I doubt that, dear.”
“Okay, then, let’s go with the obvious,” she retorted, choosing to ignore his comment. “I have to give you credit, mister. Angeles, D'Angel. At least your choice in names bears some similarity, since they both translate into angel.”�
“Don’t mock me, or point fingers, Evangeline,” he chastised, a steel edge creeping into his rebuke. “It appears those guilty of the same sin are the first to condemn it.”
She flushed. Lucien D'Angel wasn't the only person with a pseudonym. Her name, Evangeline Keegan, had always been a mouthful. She’d discovered people had a tendency to remember the simple name she used.
“It wasn’t my intent to mock you,” she responded with forced humility, and he gave her a slight nod. Her lips tightened as she waited for him to continue.
“I am not guilty of any crimes.” He sighed deeply, his expression brooding.
“What do you mean?” She was growing more confused by the minute.
“I was christened was Lucien D'Angel,” she sensed the admission were difficult. “During the era your infant country was being discovered, my father conquered the kingdom of St. Lorraine.”�
“Your father?” Eva questioned with skeptical disbelief.
“My father was known as D'Angel the Destroyer, for apt reasons.” There was an obvious lack of pride in his pensive tones. “You can please yourself and discover all the information you want on your precious laptop. There’s a few sites dedicated to the atrocities he inflicted on the masses.”�
The name he uttered, D'Angel the Destroyer, sent an uncomfortable chill rippling over her and she rubbed her hands over her arms.
“Are you seriously expecting me to imagine you were born four centuries ago?”
He shrugged, though his lips quirked at her outraged tone.
“If you can see a ghost, why can’t I be four centuries old?”
“Fine, let’s suppose you are that old.” Her tone said otherwise. “You couldn't have a father named D'Angel the Good, Lord of Just and Might?”�
�He shrugged. “I can only supply you with the information you request.”�
She released the tight hold on her arms and waved a dismissing hand, gracing him with a sarcastic smile. “Please, continue with this fantastic tale of yours. I'm riveted!”�
“My father had two heirs,” ignoring