~Lucifer

The internet (and a specially curated selection of romance novels) had taught me that it was sometimes hard to know exactly how the other person was doing. Without getting Nelly to touch my wings, I had no idea what was going on in his stubborn head but telling me to wait in the car was clearly him begging for my attention. He wanted my support as he went into that building where everyone knew him and might wish to talk to him about what it had been like when he'd been taken.

Watching him walk away from the car, I pulled out my phone and called Trony.

“What now?” the angel asked.

“I need the French place where you get the fancy pastry.”

“You need that French place? You don’t like my baking suddenly?”

I checked myself in the rearview mirror to make sure I was looking my best. “Trony, don’t be ridiculous. We both know you outbake the French. I just need something fancy-looking fast to get unwanted attention off of Nelly. I took him to the station, and he was looking very uncomfortable.”

There was a pause. “Did he try to pay you again?”

I smiled at myself in the tiny mirror. There was no reason to be upset over what had begun as a misunderstanding in the first place. “Of curse not. The address, Trony?”

She groaned. “Fine, I’ll text you. But I’m baking Halloween cookies, and you two are going to taste test them and rate them, and I want no bullshit like I guess they’re fine, Trony. I’m attending a pre-Halloween party, and I will not bring cookies that are ‘fine’.”

“Fine. I mean, yes, of course. I’m sure Nelly will love the idea.”

“Just make sure he understands the assignment,” she said and hung up.

The address lit up my screen seconds later, and I teleported to Paris where it was still before noon. The Pâtisserie Le Coq was a generous storefront, at least for Paris standards, and a woman with a blue and white apron quickly packed up a selection of small cakes for me. She barely even glanced at me, but perhaps it was being surrounded by all that creamy goodness that had rendered her immune to my charm, not that I was interested in other people.

Nelly, after all, was shaping up to become a full-time occupation. With my cake in hand, I teleported back to the station and followed the subtle acidic scent of his magic. I stopped once or twice, dispensing cake to underfed and overworked police personnel, but that was an insignificant pleasure compared to feeling Nelly’s eyes on me.

He was watching me as I opened the glass door to the shared office and approached him. For some reason, he was sitting at a desk and looking as if he were working. I hadn’t brought him here to work, we’d been clear on that.

I took my time walking up to him and stopped right next to his desk. “Nelly, I hope I didn’t make you wait long? How are you feeling?”

He looked haunted. Perhaps Trony’s cookies and a glass of hot milk were exactly what he needed. I could take a long bath with him after, and then after that, I could carry him to bed and make sure his thoughts were far away from all this fear. I could give him a nice, full body massage with lavender oil. Hmm.

“What the fuck was so complicated about waiting in the damn car?”

His voice was low, heated. It was oddly erotic.

I turned when I noticed someone else approaching us and quickly found myself face to face with the detective I usually saw at the scenes Nelly went to at all times of the day.

“Hawkes, is this a friend of yours?”

“I’m—”

Nelly very nearly jumped to his feet. “He drove me here. We were just—hanging. And he drove me.”

I smiled. “I also brought cake.”

I opened the box for the detective to inspect, and while she was good at controlling it, I could tell that she was impressed by the French pastry.

“Hawkes, you’re not retiring, are you?”

Nelly flushed. “Nope. No. Just—like you said, you know. Taking time away, and… This is a thank-you. For dealing with everything. Right?”

Nelly looked at me with his beautiful golden eyes, sparking a fantasy in which he was kneeling and looking up at me, asking me for permission to come. It was a very nice fantasy.

“Whatever you say, Nelly.”

“Yeah, cool. Awesome.” He gestured at the cake. “Can you leave that here? I guess I’ll email in everything after all, Christine.”

I put the box of cream on the desk Nelly had been using, satisfied with the outcome. The detective looked from me to Nelly.

“I told you that’s fine. Preferable even.”

Nelly nodded. “Okay, good. Thanks. And sorry for, uh. You know. We’ll let you get back to work. Bye.”

I winked at the detective even as Nelly took me by the wrist and pulled me out of there. I didn’t let him run of course and kept up a normal walking pace, which seemed to frustrate him, going by how hard he was pulling, but an undignified exit wasn’t my thing.

By the time we were in the elevator, Nelly was actually huffing, his cheeks a lovely shade of primrose.

“What the actual fuck, Lucifer.”

“It’s Lucy, babe.”

He rolled his eyes, making me want to slap his ass. “What the actual fuck, Lucy. What was so hard about waiting in the damn car?”

“I assumed you need emotional support. You know, because of the—”

He raised his index finger in my face. “Don’t you fucking say I have PTSD! I don’t.”

This was, of course, fully expected. Avoidance was quite common.

“It’s not going away just because you don’t want to talk about it, Nelly.”

He rolled his eyes again, and this time around, my hand actually twitched. However, the elevator arrived at the parking lot, and Nelly all but ran to the car. He tried the passenger door. It was locked.

He turned. “Can you please unlock the car?”

I looked at him innocently, almost like I was some human who couldn’t time things like opening car doors for their boyfriend.

“Of course, babe. Want me to help you inside?”

I held up the fob and unlocked the car.

“I want you to go fuck yourself, Lucifer.”

I growled. Oh, the sight of him getting in the car and pulling the door shut with all that unnecessary force—he’d be perfect, stretched out under me, maybe with a nice ball gag in his mouth.

I slowed my steps, stopping in front of the hood to bend over and adjust the laces of my right shoe. That would give Nelly an excellent view if he chose to look, and I was reasonable sure that he really wanted to look.

After taking my time with that, I got in the car, saying, “Babe, the other way around, always.”

He pressed his lips shut and crossed his arms. Sadly, he’d already buckled in, meaning I had no reason to lean over to him and get close, inhale the sharp scent of his magic.

I could tell I’d riled him, but despite that, Nelly was silent on the drive home. That gave me plenty of opportunity to plan out the remainder of the day in my head. Feeding him Trony’s cookies was just the start.