Page 12 of Exorcise Me
“Then what is it?” I challenged. “Because I’ve broken every vow I’ve ever made. I’ve betrayed my calling, my faith—”
“Have you?” Lucien pushed himself up on one elbow, looking down at me with unexpected seriousness. “Or have you simply discovered that your calling and your faith are more complex than you were taught?”
I blinked, caught off guard by the question. “What do you mean?”
“Your vows were to serve truth, were they not? To protect the innocent? To combat evil?” His fingers resumed their gentle patterns on my skin. “Tell me, in our time together, have you seen me harm anyone? Have you witnessed me corrupting innocence or spreading suffering?”
“No,” I admitted. “But—”
“But nothing.” His voice was gentle but firm. “You were taught that demons are evil by nature. What if that’s not true? What if, like humans, we exist on a spectrum? Some cruel, some kind, most somewhere in between?”
The question struck at the core of everything I’d been raised to believe. If demons weren’t inherently evil… if they could choose, as humans could…
“You’re asking me to reevaluate my entire worldview,” I said quietly.
Lucien’s smile was sad. “I know. It’s a lot to ask.” He traced my cheekbone with gentle fingers. “But is it any different from what you’ve been asking of yourself since I arrived? You’ve been questioning, Noah. I’ve just given you permission to follow those questions to their logical conclusion.”
He was right. The doubts had been there long before him—quiet whispers of uncertainty during seminary lessons, questions I’d pushed down because I didn’t want to disappoint my family, my mentors. Lucien had simply brought them to the surface, made them impossible to ignore.
“I need time,” I said finally. “This is… a lot.”
“Time I have in abundance,” he replied with a small smile. “Though I should warn you—” he leaned closer, his lips brushing my ear “—I plan to spend much of that time doing very unholy things to your body.”
A shiver ran through me at his words, heat pooling low in my stomach. “Is that a promise or a threat?”
“Both.” His teeth nipped gently at my earlobe. “Definitely both.”
His mouth traveled down my neck, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. My body responded instantly, arching into his touch as his hands resumed their exploration from the night before.
“Wait,” I gasped as his fingers found particularly sensitive skin. “Don’t you need to… I don’t know… recharge or something?”
Lucien’s laugh was warm against my collarbone. “Demon, remember? Stamina is one of our better qualities.” He raised his head, eyes dancing with mischief. “Though if you’re too tired…”
I pulled him down for a kiss, silencing his teasing. “Shut up and show me what else demons are good at.”
His smile against my lips was wicked. “Gladly.”
Chapter 7
Hours later, we finally emerged from the bedroom, my body pleasantly sore in places I hadn’t known could be sore. Lucien moved around my kitchen with familiar ease, preparing coffee and what smelled like french toast.
I watched him from my perch on a barstool, admiring the fluid grace of his movements. He’d pulled on a pair of my sweatpants, though they hung low on his hips, revealing the smooth planes of his back and the dimples just above his waistband. His hair was still tousled from our morning activities, and a small mark bloomed on his neck—evidence of my own boldness that made me flush with remembered heat.
“You’re staring again,” he said without turning around.
“You’re worth staring at,” I replied, echoing his words from the night before.
He glanced over his shoulder, flashing a smile that made my heart stutter. “Flattery will get you everywhere, exorcist. Though perhaps not before breakfast. Even demons need sustenance after what we just did.”
I flushed again, memories of “what we just did” vivid in my mind. Lucien had been an attentive and inventive lover, showing me pleasures I’d barely imagined existed. But more surprising than the physical ecstasy had been the tenderness, the moments of genuine connection that felt deeper than mere desire.
“What happens now?” I asked, voicing the question that had been circling my mind.
Lucien placed a mug of coffee in front of me—prepared exactly how I liked it, with too much cream and sugar. “Now we eat breakfast. Then perhaps a shower. Then maybe I bend you over that couch and—”
“I meant in the bigger picture,” I interrupted, though my body responded eagerly to his suggestion.
His playful expression softened. “I know what you meant.” He turned back to the stove, flipping the french toast with expert precision. “The honest answer is: I don’t know. This isn’t exactly a common situation, even for someone as old as I am.”
