I knew that, but it still hurt to feel him withdraw from me as he was doing now. I held on tight and tried to think of something clever to say, something that would deflect the tension. Nothing leapt to mind.
Despite my clingy monkey hold, Brian managed to escape my arms, but he didn’t resume dressing, so I tried not to despair. He sat on the edge of the bed, his brow still furrowed with thought. I wanted to kiss that furrow away, but suspected he wouldn’t appreciate an overture right now.
He didn’t even look up as I dropped the towel and slipped into a comfy, beat-up bathrobe. I gathered the robe tightly around me and climbed onto the bed, sitting with my back against the headboard, giving Brian his space.
“So whenever we make love, he’s, uh … there?” Brian asked.
I blinked in surprise. “Brian, he’s always there.”
He waved that away. “I know he’s always in residence, as it were. I just thought …” He shook his head. “I don’t know what I thought. Maybe that he politely shut his eyes when we were in bed.”
I refrained from pointing out that my eyes were Lugh’s eyes. “I don’t think he could even if he wanted to.”
Brian nodded mutely, and I had a feeling he was going through some of our more … exotic encounters in his mind. I know I was.
“Lugh and I are a package deal,” I said, though why I felt the need to restate the obvious I don’t know. I guess I just don’t do that well with awkward silences.
“Yeah.” He rubbed his chin, lost in thoughts he chose not to share with me.
Hurt stabbed through me, though there was really no reason for it. It wasn’t me Brian was withdrawing from. But for the first time, I started thinking about what my future would be like with my demon passenger. Maybe I should have thought about it before, but since I’d first found out I was possessed, my future had looked so uncertain—as in I was unlikely to have a future—that I hadn’t put much thought into it.
I still didn’t know what would happen between Brian and me, even if I managed to get rid of Lugh somehow. We’d put some jumbo-sized Band-Aids on our relationship, and so far they seemed to be holding strong. But how long would that last? Sure, I was being more open and honest with Brian now than I had been in the past, trusting him when trust had always eluded me before. But my life had taught me a fundamental truth: People don’t change, even if your perceptions of them do. So where did that leave me?
Wallowing in self-pity, apparently.
I shook it off as best I could, forcing a semicheerful smile. “Guess I’m not getting laid this afternoon, huh?”
Brian gave a little huff of what might have been laughter. “Guess not. But I still have high hopes for later tonight.” He reached over and took my hand, squeezing it firmly. “Just give me a little time to get used to the idea, okay?”
I wasn’t sure which idea it was he needed to get used to: Lugh’s desire, or just the fact that Lugh was our silent partner when we had sex, the ultimate voyeur. Maybe it didn’t matter.
I nodded my acceptance, then leaned in for a kiss—the action instinctive rather than planned. Brian hesitated for a fraction of a second before he pressed his lips to mine, giving me a firm but closed-mouth kiss.
Brian is way too perceptive not to notice that his halfhearted kiss stung me, but he pretended not to.
“How about dinner tonight?” he asked. He glanced at his watch. “I’ll pick you up around seven, okay?”
“Sure,” I said as my heart sank a little lower. Something told me a single afternoon wasn’t going to be enough time for Brian to sort things through, and our dinner tonight was going to be an awkward and uncomfortable affair. But I just didn’t have it in me to turn him down.
three
WHEN I’M STRESSED OUT, I CLEAN. THESE LAST TWO months of relative peace had kept my stress level manageable, which meant my apartment was a pigsty. Worrying about what was going to happen with Brian was enough to galvanize me into action, so I got to work practically as soon as the door closed behind him.
I quickly lost myself in the familiar rhythm, my thoughts focused on nothing except the task at hand. Some people meditate; I scrub toilets. What can I say?
At around five, Brian called and told me his boss had suddenly ordered him back to work, so he’d have to take a rain check on dinner. My throat tightened with worry, though I tried not to show it. I gracefully accepted his apology and his offer of a rain check, then hung up the phone before I started to hyperventilate.
It was true that in Brian’s line of work, it wouldn’t be that unusual for his boss to call him out of the blue at any hour of the day or night. Certainly it had happened before. But with this afternoon’s discussion looming large in my mind, I couldn’t help wondering if this had been a convenient excuse, rather than a genuine need to work.
Just give him a little time, Lugh said, and I snarled softly.
“Easy for you to say when you’re the one who screwed me over in the first place!”
Of course, he didn’t answer. I resisted the urge to throw the phone across the room. There was no point in arguing with Lugh—his ability to rummage around in my head gives him an unfair advantage. But I was sick of cleaning house, and I didn’t think it would absorb my thoughts so effectively anymore. What I needed right now, I decided, was human contact. And what better human was there than someone who could understand exactly what Brian and I were going through?
Dominic Castello is the former host of the demon Saul, Raphael’s son. But what made him singularly perfect as a confidant under the circumstances was that his boyfriend, Adam, was still possessed, making their relationship into a really weird ménage à trois very similar to my own situation.
Among his other sterling qualities, Dominic is also a fantastic cook, and he’d finally taken the plunge and bought a restaurant. Actually, I’m pretty sure it was Adam who’d bought the restaurant, because Dominic didn’t have that kind of money, but Dominic was the official owner. The grand opening wasn’t for another week yet, but I knew Dom was in the process of training his staff right now, so I decided to take a gamble in hopes of combining a free meal with good company.
Dominic’s restaurant was within walking distance, but when I stepped outside, I almost wished I’d called a cab. The air was like a wet, stifling blanket, and I was drenched with sweat by the time I got to the restaurant.
A smile stretched my lips when I saw the newly installed sign over the front door. Apparently, the restaurant was going to be called “Dominic’s.” Simple, and to the point. And probably Adam’s idea, because Dom was way too modest to want to name the place after himself. A handwritten sign in the doorway said, “Opening soon,” but I could see shadows of movement behind the closed curtains.
I rapped on the door a couple of times, and eventually one of those shadows moved in my direction. The door opened, and a rail-thin Italian woman with discreetly graying hair gave me the once-over before saying, “We’re not open yet. The grand opening is in one week.”
She started closing the door before I had a chance to say anything, and I was momentarily flummoxed by her rudeness. If this was the kind of staff Dom was hiring, I had to wonder what he was thinking.
Luckily, Dominic emerged from the kitchen at that moment and saw me.
“Morgan!” he said, sounding delighted as he waved to me from across the room.
The bitch at the door pursed her lips in obvious disapproval, but she halted her effort to slam the door in my face. I wondered what her problem was, then reminded myself that many people her age found my outlandish appearance somewhat disconcerting. Aside from the multiple piercings in my ears and my conspicuously sexy wardrobe, I’m also a five-foot-nine redhead, so I tend to make an impression everywhere I go. She fingered a truly hideous crucifix that was tucked away under the collar of her white blouse, and for a moment I feared she was going to shove it in my face like I was a vampire.
Dominic said something to her in Italian, and she replied with something I suspected wa
s less than complimentary. I don’t speak a word of Italian, but the sour expression on her face was a pretty good clue. She sniffed disdainfully, then spun on her heel and headed toward the kitchen without another word.
I gaped at Dom, who gave me a wry smile and a shrug.
“Sorry,” he said. “She’s my stepmother, and when she wanted to help out with the restaurant I didn’t have the heart to say no. But she’s, uh, rather conservative.” The smile turned into a hint of a grimace.
I knew next to nothing about Dom’s family, except that they were all Italian and Catholic, but I could certainly read between the lines well enough to guess they weren’t happy about his choices in life. They probably adhered to the theory that demons were the Spawn of Satan, and I bet they’d disapproved heartily of his decision to host one. I bet they weren’t too happy about him being gay, either, and they would probably expire of horror if they knew any of the details of his relationship with Adam, which involved S&M.
“Has she met Adam yet?” I asked, though I figured the answer was no or she’d either have run screaming or be buried in some secret grave. Adam isn’t one to suffer fools, and when he wants to be intimidating … Let’s just say no sane person would mess with him.
Dom shrugged. “So far, I’ve been able to keep them apart. She knows I live with Adam, but I think she’s convinced herself that we’re just roommates. I’ve told her the truth, but she’s developed a case of selective hearing.”
Better and better. Sometimes I seriously wondered if love was worth all the trouble it caused.
Dom ushered me into the restaurant, closing and locking the door behind us. I hadn’t seen the place since he’d first bought it, and I gave a soft whistle of appreciation for the changes. It had been an Italian restaurant even before Dom had bought it, but the previous owners had had delusions of grandeur and had gone out of their way to make the place look like Snob Central, with everything cold and super formal.
Dom had transformed it into a warm, intimate space, retaining all the class while doing away with the formality. Tables for two lined the windows, while tables for four and six dotted the center of the room. There was even a long table that looked like it would seat about twelve tucked into a corner in the back.
“It’s gorgeous,” I told Dom, and smiled as he beamed in obvious pride. He is one of the nicest people I’ve ever met, and I was really hoping the restaurant would take off for him.
“Are you here just to sightsee?” he asked, “or would you mind being a test subject for my staff?”
I grinned. “Well, it would be a real hardship for me, but I guess I can spare a little time to help you out. That’s what friends are for, right?”
“Then let me show you to your table.”
He pulled a chair back from one of the tables by the window. Only Dominic can get away with holding a chair out for me and not get his head bitten off. I’m not big on the whole chivalry thing.
“Shouldn’t your hostess be taking care of this part of the job?” I couldn’t help teasing.
Dom darted a quick, surreptitious glance at the kitchen, then bent to whisper in my ear. “To tell you the truth, I suspect she won’t last until opening day. I can’t keep her and Adam apart much longer, and they’re destined to get along about as well as your average snake and mongoose.”
I grinned. “Sounds like you’ve got a really passive-aggressive plan to get rid of her.”
He gave me a “Who, me?” face while his eyes twinkled with humor. “I’ll send a server out with a menu. They just came back from the printer today.”
He started to head toward the kitchen, excited to show me the menu, but I grabbed his sleeve to stop him.
“Just to warn you,” I said, “I did come here with ulterior motives.”
“Other than wanting a free meal?”
I grinned. “Let’s say in addition to wanting a free meal.”
“Okay.”
“Can I chat with you for a while when you have a few spare minutes?”
He heaved a dramatic sigh. “What’s going on between you and Brian now?” he asked.
I think I blushed, though I supposed I should be used to being transparent by now. “Actually, it’s between me, Lugh, and Brian.”
His eyes widened. “Oh.” He picked up the napkin from my plate and shook it out, laying it over my lap as though I wasn’t capable of doing so myself. “Better order an appetizer and dessert. This might be a long conversation.”
I made vague grumbling noises at him, which he ignored completely. I’ve never been one to share my troubles with anyone, having pretended to be an island for as long as I can remember. But Dom is different. I’ve talked to him about things I’d never dreamed I could talk about. And though the idea still made me uncomfortable, I knew it was good for me.
“I’ll set things in motion in the kitchen,” he told me, “and then I’ll be right back.”
“Thanks,” I said, fighting my usual urge to flee from conversation.
A couple of minutes later, a waiter who obviously had an unhealthy love of hair gel emerged from the kitchen carrying a menu. I politely listened to his spiel while he told me which items on the menu were actually available tonight. Next Wednesday night they were going to have a special dinner service just for friends and family so that everyone got to practice before the grand opening, but tonight they only had a few basics available.
I couldn’t remember ever eating something Dom had cooked that was less than delicious, so I made some snap decisions and sent the waiter on his way.
I’d never considered Dom a control freak—and I’m an expert on the subject—but he remained ensconced in the kitchen until the waiter arrived with the bowl of minestrone I’d ordered. Dom took the seat across from me as the waiter laid a second bowl of soup in front of him. Dom cast a wistful glance at the kitchen door as the waiter retreated, and I had to smother a laugh.
“It’s just me, Dom,” I said as I inhaled the fragrant steam that wafted from my soup. “I promise I won’t be writing any scathing reviews.”
He laughed, and some of the tension eased from his shoulders. “I know, I know. I’m just getting a head start on being nervous for the grand opening.”
I tasted the soup and sighed in contentment. “Trust me, you have nothing to be nervous about.”
“Do you have any idea how many Italian restaurants there are in this city? Or how many restaurants of any kind fail in their first year? Adam’s sunk a lot of money into this place, and—” He cut himself off with a look of annoyance. “But never mind all that. You came here to talk about what’s going on with you and Brian. And Lugh.”
I was tempted to spend more time reassuring Dom about how great his restaurant would be, but I doubted it would do any good. Despite the confidence I had in him, I couldn’t blame him for being nervous. Only a successful grand opening could hope to calm his jitters.
The bowl of piping hot soup in front of me made it easier for me to tell Dominic all about this afternoon’s … complications with Brian and Lugh. No, I didn’t give him a play-by-play recounting, but I did tell him that Lugh “liked” Brian, and that he had made that known today.
By the time I’d finished talking, my entrée—a seafood risotto that looked so rich it was probably illegal in some states—arrived. I hadn’t finished the soup yet, and Dom scolded the waiter for serving the entrée too early. It was a gentle scolding, though, and I figured Dom was probably a really great boss.
I waited until the waiter was back in the kitchen before I resumed talking. This was not the kind of conversation I wanted strangers overhearing.
“So,” I asked in a conspiratorial whisper, “how do you deal with it? Knowing that there are two different people in Adam’s body? Do you just … I don’t know, pretend that the human Adam isn’t there?”
In a usual demonic possession, the demon has total control of its host’s body, but the host’s personality is still alive and kicking inside. Which meant that even though Adam’s
human host couldn’t interact with the outside world, he was always there, just like Lugh was always there in me.
Dom looked thoughtful. “I think our situation is pretty different from yours. Adam … that is, Adam’s host … and I knew each other before we both volunteered to host, so I’ve known both the demon and the human. I think it’s easier for me to remember that they’re two separate people that way. And having been a host myself, I’ve always known how intimate the relationship is. Brian’s never really known Lugh, so while he might understand in theory that you and Lugh are different people, it might be hard for him to really absorb. At least not if Lugh isn’t shoving it in his face.”
I cocked my head at him. “Don’t think I didn’t notice that you didn’t answer the question.” It wasn’t like Dom to be evasive. He was a hell of a lot more open and honest than I was.
His mouth tugged down in a hint of a frown. “I guess it’s because I don’t like the answer,” he said softly. “I suppose I do sometimes kind of forget about the human half of Adam. I know the two of them talk a lot and that they get along very well, but the human Adam never … talks to me, like Lugh talks to the rest of us.”
Except for the rare occasions when Lugh ended up in control, all other communication between him and his council came through me. I guess that made me something like Lugh’s mouthpiece, at least some of the time.
“If you were friends before you became hosts, why doesn’t Adam’s host talk to you?”
Dom thought about that for a moment before answering. “When I was hosting Saul, I never felt the need to communicate with anyone else. He was the only person I could interact with directly, and I guess it seemed like too much trouble to reach out to other people. Especially when Saul could give me everything I needed.” He shrugged. “It’s easier than you think to just kind of … let yourself fade into the background.”
I snorted softly. Easy for Dom, maybe. There was no way in hell it’d be easy for me. “So you think Adam’s host just kind of sits behind the scenes twiddling his thumbs and has no feelings one way or another about your relationship with Adam?”