The demigod didn’t answer.
Instead, his hand slid from my chest, fingers tracing a brief, reassuring line along my collarbone before he straightened to hisfull height at my side. The loss of his touch was immediate, but the protection wasn’t—if anything, it sharpened.
He reached to his hip as if drawing from a hidden pouch, then brought his hand back into view, palm open to reveal a small sling bullet resting there. Smooth. Pale stone. Etched with faint spirals that caught and held the candlelight.
I was certain it hadn’t been there a heartbeat ago.
He rolled it between his fingers like it weighed nothing at all.
The demon snorted. “What is this, a child’s game? You plan to flick a pebble at me and hope I vanish in a puff of smoke?”
“You never asked for my name,” the demigod said mildly.
“Seems as unimportant now as it did when you arrived,” the demon replied.
The demigod’s mouth tugged up at one corner. “Suit yourself.”
He moved so fast I didn’t actually see the shot—just a blur of his arm and then the sharp snap of air parting. The stone whistled past the demon’s head and slammed into the far wall.
The explosion rattled the castle.
Stone detonated like glass under a hammer. A section of wall cracked outward in a spiderweb, dust and grit raining down in a choking curtain. I stumbled, throwing an arm over my face as pebbles skittered and bounced across the floor.
Heat and power rolled back in a wave.
When the sound finally died, a jagged crater yawned in the ancient masonry. Dust fell between us. For a moment, the only sound was grit skittering across stone. My ears rang with the echo of it.
Lugh stayed planted beside me, close enough that his boot nearly touched my knee. The demon stood just off-center, a few stray bits of rubble clinging to the shoulder of his coat.
Lugh’s stance was loose but balanced, hand slowly lowering from the throw.
“It’s Lugh,” he said, his voice carrying a faint reverb. “Demigod of the Sun.”
The name rang somewhere deep in the back of my mind, tugging at half-remembered myths—of a warrior-king with too many gifts, of battles won with both blade and brilliance, of a god who never missed his mark. A slayer of evil everywhere.
The demon brushed a smear of dust from his shoulder, then looked from the crater back to Lugh. Slowly, a grin spread across his face.
“All right, fine,” he said, sounding genuinely entertained. “You’ve got some tricks. I’ll give you that.” He considered Lugh for a moment longer. “I mean, I really don’t want to like you…but that was actually kind of cool.”
Lugh’s answering chuckle slid warm down my spine. “I killed my own grandfather with a throw like that,” he said conversationally. “And I’ve got a bigger weapon that’s even more unstoppable than this. Would you like me to take that out next, or have I driven thepointhome?”
I was almost certain he meant a spear or a sword. My traitorous brain, however, chose a different interpretation entirely and promptly stopped behaving.
The demon barked a laugh. “For the love of the pit, you’re so full of yourself.” His gaze cut to me, sharp again. “Just let our delusional little plaything speak for herself.”
Lugh’s jaw flexed. “Fine,” he murmured. “Let’s see what our leadin’ lady wants.”
He took a step closer, making everything else feel far away. He moved into my space and lowered in front of me, so I had to look at him instead of the demon. “Look at me,” he said, softer than a command and somehow more unyielding. I tipped my face up until my back arched for him.
From this angle he had an unimpeded view straight down, and the way his gaze dipped—lingering for a heartbeat before finding my eyes again, darker and heavier—told me he noticed.
“Angel,” he said softly, “d’ye want me to get rid of him?”
The demon hissed, affronted.
Lugh ignored him. He leaned in until his breath washed warm over my mouth and jaw. “You want to be used and degraded?” he asked, voice a low rumble that settled in my bones. “Are you sure that’s what you want?”
The demon’s earlier words still clung to me—filthy and mocking, all sharp edges and promises of being taken apart piece by piece. Part of me wanted to sink straight through the floor, to escape the intensity of both their gazes. Part of me wanted exactly what he’d threatened. Part of me wanted to be held so gently it hurt.