Page 105 of Broken Shadows

“Shh, now hold on to me,” she orders, steadying herself on her black heels. A haunting melody grows louder as we descend the grandiose, silver-gilded staircase. I’m about to bring up Ezra again when we reach the bottom, but spot a man across the foyer, waving at us.

Dark curls adorn his head, and a trimmed, salt and pepper beard runs the length of his chiseled jawline. His silver eyes find mine, a gentle smile curves the wicked angular edge of his face. “Bellissima, Evangaline, Rosalia.” His velvet, midnight tux fits his muscular build, the cufflinks shining the same color as his angelic eyes. “I apologize for not introducing myself sooner. I am Lucifer.”

Rosa chokes on her inhale. “You’reLucifer.”

Oh my gods. Or devils. With all the depictions of Satan floating around, I pictured him as something cartoonish with horns and tail, or at least something hellish. But just like his son, he appears human, except, unlike his children, he walks with an ethereal softness that can trick the most well-intentioned.

“In the flesh,” he states with a wide-toothed, affable grin. “Ah, Evangeline, you are beautiful. I have to say, the family resemblance between yourself and your aunt is unmatched.”

“It’s actually Evie,” I correct with a forced smile as he reaches us. “So, where is my aunt?”

“Ah, yes, she will be along shortly. So, you like my dresses,” he states, as if he can sense how we feel. I mean, damn, he probably can. The devil, anempath?

Rosa answers first. “They’re beautiful. Thank you. So, did you sew them yourself or…?”

What the fuck kind of conversation is this? Are we really discussing fashion with Satan?

“No,” he says with a kind smile. There’s not even a hint of condescension in there and I wonder how anyone can think him evil. “It’s magic. You are well suited to my Ezra,” he tells Rosa. “My demons reported your interactions to me,” he admits, answering our unspoken question about how he knows. He extends his hand toward the heavy doors. “Anyway, please enjoy. We shall talk more later.”

“Thank you, Lucifer,” I say, struggling to find the words on how to describe whatever the fuck this is.

“You can call me Dad if you’d like, as you are my son's intended.” My brows shoot halfway up my forehead. I amnotcalling him Dad and I am not Lorcan’s intended. What even is an intended? Like his fiancé?

“I don’t know what you did,” Lucifer continues. “But I could feel my Lorcan’s heart more open earlier. He’s always been so depressed, even when I let him torture all those demons.” His shoulders slump as he huffs out a breath. “Perhaps it’s the Fallenmoore charm. I know it well.”

Rosa shoots me a wide-eyed stare and I shrug.

Lucifer waves us off, walking ahead of us, and the heavy doors creak open with a motion of his hand.

As soon as he disappears inside, Rosa grabs my hand. “Hell fucking Hell,” she exclaims as we walk inside into the large ballroom. “That was insane.”

“So is this,” I confess as I look around. Flickering, violet candlelight dances over the faces of ghostly spirits gliding around the cold, stone walls. I breathe in the scent of rose, lilies, jasmine, and vanilla, each forming a musk that somehow smells like both sex and death.

Rosa's fingers unclasp from mine as we take in the monochromatic tapestries of angels and demons hanging behind a quintet of violinists and a shiny black piano. A building melancholic serenade whispers from the demon hunched over the piano, his fingers gliding over the keys in rapid succession.

I notice most of the demons have taken on a human form tonight, all of them turning to look at us with stares as dark as charcoal, contrasting their pale, chalky skin.

Rosa shudders, whispering, “This is creepy.”

“Yep.” The spirits of human souls slip between the demons, their phantasmic forms swirling like smoke. They hover on the edges of the shadows as if they’re afraid to bring much notice upon themselves.

The doors open and six out of the seven brothers walk inside, all dressed in fitted, black tuxes, all with different color gemstones on their cufflinks to match their sin.

My heart balloons when I see Lorcan appear behind them, standing tall, draped in a midnight blue tux with his normally disheveled hair slicked back, making him appear more gentlemanly than I thought possible. My smile quickly evaporates when I seeheron my demon's arm. My brain falters. Evangaline. Rose tattoos cover her body, just as mine do, and her brown gaze sweeps the room. She waltzes inside, clinging to my demon’s arm, wearing an ivory dress as if she’s his fucking bride.

I’m going to fucking kill her.

Lorcan adjusts the button of this ivory shirt, pausing briefly when he sees me.

Rosa squeezes my arm and pulls me to the side. “Don’t do anything rash.”

What the fuck are you doing with her?I demand through the bond.

Don’t react,he says into my mind, breaking his own rule, then severs our communication.

Rosa’s hand is squeezing mine, grounding me as I watch them make their way through the crowd of demons and spirits.

Lorcan towers over them all, draped in a cloak of shadows, his pastel-green eyes glowing when he extends his hand to Evangeline, the same hand that held me. Her palm slips into his, and she smiles at Lucifer across the room, as if a dance with Lorcan is some bullshit peace-making move. But the three of us know she secretly is loving every second of this. As if he she could ever have his heart.

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