Page 42 of Cat’s Guide To Romance

I sit beside him, leaving a tiny little space between us. “You don’t have to tell me.”

For a few seconds, he doesn’t. Lucien rubs both hands over his face before letting them fall heavily into his lap. His tail curls around his ankle as he stares at the floor.

“I used to track people for the demon realm. I was very good at finding people who didn’t want to be found.”

Something about the way he says it tells me there’s more. “You don’t do it anymore?”

“Haven’t in more than forty years.”

“Why?”

Lucien shifts against the couch, his tired gaze moving toward me. “I stopped liking what happened after I found them. Tracking was interesting. I liked the challenge. But eventually I realized I was finding people so someone else could drag them back and collect whatever they thought they were owed.”

“Souls?”

“Sometimes.”

I wrinkle my nose, and Lucien gives me a tired smile. “Exactly. So I left. Started The Rot. Built something that belonged to me instead.”

I look around his office, but I’m thinking about everything beyond it, too. The ridiculous club downstairs. The hideous zombie paint job. Ryan and Lars. The supernatural creatures filling the dance floor every night. He didn’t just stop doing something he hated. He built himself something else. A life. A family.

“You did what I did.” I turn toward him and tuck one leg beneath me. “You left the thing everyone expected you to do because you wanted your own life. Then you made one.”

His eyes stay on me long enough that I start getting uncomfortable. “You’re brilliant.”

Heat creeps into my cheeks. “I thought we were talking about you.”

“We were.” A faint smile pulls at his mouth. “Then you said something brilliant.”

I shove his shoulder, but he barely moves. Actually, his eyes close.

I snort and study the exhausted demon slumped beside me. “You need a nap.”

“I need twelve years of sleep.”

I get to my feet and point toward the couch. “Get comfortable.”

Lucien watches me suspiciously, but shifts until he’s stretched along the couch with his back against one arm. I grab a pillow from the other end and shove it behind him, adjusting it until he can lean back without looking like he’s about to snap his neck.

“There. Sleep.”

“And what are you going to do?”

I stare at him, wishing he hadn’t asked. This seemed a lot less terrifying when it was only an idea in my head. I haven’t done this with anyone outside my family in years. But it’s Lucien. And I want to.

“I thought you wanted to pet me.”

Lucien goes completely still. I’ve managed to shut him up, and I almost laugh at the look on his face.

“You...” His throat bobs. “What?”

“You heard me.”

I drop to my knees before I lose my nerve. Shifting comes as naturally as breathing. One moment I’m crouching in front of him, and the next I’m looking up at Lucien from much closer to the floor.

His mouth drops open, and he holds his breath.

I jump onto the couch with a little chirp escaping me and step onto his thigh. Lucien still doesn’t move. His hands are frozen in the air like he has no idea what he’s allowed to do with them, and his expression is so ridiculously sweet that some of my nerves disappear.