He frowned and took a step toward her. “That’s not—”
“No!” She scrambled away. If he neared her, she might fall into his arms and beg. The way she’d begged Hades.
Never again!
“Keeley—”
An unfamiliar male flashed into the center of the room, silencing him.
Bristling with hostility, she faced off with the newcomer. He had shaggy black hair that framed a face tragically scarred by sword and fire, she would guess. His eyes were mismatched, one blue, one brown. He wore a black tuxedo T-shirt and ripped jeans.
Overall, he had a rugged quality she couldn’t help but admire.
That didn’t mean she would spare him.
“You popped in on the wrong girl, Scarface,” she said, flashing a semiautomatic into her hand. A bullet to the head wouldn’t kill him, but it would teach him a lesson. A lesson his damaged brain would probably forget. Oh, well.
All around her, the room shook.
Torin rushed in front of her, spreading his arms wide and saying, “Calm down, princess. This guy isn’t an enemy. He’s Lucien, my friend.”
The name echoed in her mind until she made a connection. Lucien, Lord of the Underworld. Keeper of Death. A by-the-rule-book immortal with a fierce temper—one that might actually rival her own.
When Galen had told her about his personal experience with each of the warriors, she’d been most interested in meeting this one. But no longer. Lucien had just ushered in the change she’d feared. Torin was no longer hers, and hers alone. If he’d ever been hers at all.
“Fine. I won’t slay him.” She flashed the gun to the nightstand as the shaking stopped. “See? I remembered my vow like a good little girl.”
Torin offered her a half smile—of reassurance? or apology?—before turning to face his friend.
Lucien locked eyes with him and grinned, his joy unmistakable. “It’s you. You’re really here.”
“I am.” Torin’s voice held the same note of joy.
Keeley suddenly felt like a voyeur.
With their long, powerful legs, they quickly ate up the space between them. Torin reached out, intending to take the other man’s hand, but Lucien caught himself first and stopped, remaining just out of reach. Pivoting to give both Lucien and Keeley his profile, Torin dropped his arm to his side.
He closed his eyes for a moment, breathed deeply. “Sorry,” he muttered. When next he focused, he was pale but determined. “I need to retrain myself.”
Meaning, he blamed Keeley for his lack of restraint.
Must hide my pain.
“I’m sorry I missed your call,” Lucien said. “Ashamed to admit I was helping Anya hide a corpse.”
Anya? Know that name... From Galen? Or one of her spies?
Torin snickered. “You definitely got the short end of the stick in the bom-chicka-wah-wah department.”
“Speaking of bom chicka wah wah...” Lucien’s pointed gaze landed on her, and his head tilted to the side. Curiosity radiated from him.
“Lucien,” Torin said, suddenly edgy. “This is Keeley.”
Lucien nodded a greeting at her. “Nice to meet you.”
“I don’t doubt that.” But, oh! Why did they have to do the meet-and-greet now? She wasn’t at her best. And she needed to be at her best. If Torin’s friends didn’t like her, they wouldn’t tell him he’d found a keeper. They might even tell him to get rid of her.
Things are over between us, remember?
True. But it was always nice to be accepted.
“She’s going to help us find Cameo, Viola and Baden, and then destroy Pandora’s box,” Torin said, not mentioning the Morning Star. Not wanting to get his friend’s hopes up?
He can’t even do me the courtesy of introducing me as his friend. Or even as his former pleasure-buddy. Search and rescue is all I am to him.
Dance, little monkey, dance.
Irritation sprouted a head and a tail and slithered around her neck, nearly choking her.
Lucien couldn’t hide his disbelief as he asked, “And just how are you going to do all this?”
“Is this an interrogation?” A strange sizzle in her blood had her shifting from one foot to the other. “And who is Anya?” She marched to the desk and sat, then kicked up her feet, quite aware she was flashing panty. Let Torin see what he would never get again.
He flew across the distance and draped a blanket over her lap, effectively covering her from waist to toe.
The action of a jealous lover.
A lie.
Lucien watched the exchange and frowned.
The sizzle drove Keeley back to her feet, the blanket falling and pooling at her feet. “You boys enjoy your reunion.” Her gaze sought Torin before skittering away. He was stiff, angry. Why? Doesn’t matter. “I’ll meet you...wherever later.”
His hand shot out, his fingers becoming a shackle around her wrist.
Lucien made a strangled sound and reached for her. To rip her away from Torin?
She held up her hand, releasing a stream of power to root the warrior in place. Or rather, she tried to release. Torin’s scars stopped her.
He glanced at his friend, and for a moment, his expression was all kinds of tortured. “This is between Keeley and me.”
“Torin,” Lucien said. “Let her go.”
“Don’t talk to him like that,” she snapped. Taking up for him? After everything?
Only this once. Because...because she pitied him. How many times had his friends done something just like this to protect someone from him?