“I wish,” I sigh. “Seriously, I fucking wish.”
Lucas keeps a steady hold on my hand as we follow Lucifer into the club. There’s a bouncer outside, only letting a few people in at a time. He’s a big and burly looking man, whose brows furrow when he sees Lucifer waltzing up.
“Hey,” he says, eyes narrowing at Scarlet. “You can’t take—” The man stops mid-sentence, face glazing over almost as if he’s been held spellbound. “Go right in, Mr. Morningstar.” He unclips a velvet rope and motions for us to come in.
“How did you do that?” Lucas asks.
Lucifer turns around with a smile on his face. “I’m the devil.”
Lucas’s face tenses, but I don’t think it’s from concern…no, it’s almost as if he’s jealous. The club, thank goodness, is nonsmoking, and we get a table right by the main stage. This place is surprisingly full for how late it is, though I suppose a place like this is probably busiest late at night.
“Three Old-Fashioned,” Lucifer orders.
“Wait,” I say, looking around the club. There’s an interesting mix of men, probably traveling for business, in expensive suits, and men, in worn-out jeans and dirty shirts, who have probably been here since the club opened. “I thought angels couldn’t eat or drink.”
“Why would you think that?” Lucifer asks.
“Another angel told me.” Lucifer knows Michael is my father, but does he know there’s another angel on our side? I don’t want to out Julian or anything.
“Another angel like your father?”
“No, but I’m not telling you anything more,” I say firmly. “I’m still not sure I trust you.”
“Fair enough,” Lucifer says, and for some reason, his lack of badgering is comforting. The waitress, a pretty redhead, walks over to our table carrying a tray with our drinks.
“When do you get off?” Lucifer asks, taking a drink from her. He brings it to his lips and takes a big swig. The waitress is not at all oblivious to how good-looking not only Lucas is, but also my uncle.
“I, uh, work until close,” she says back, obviously flustered. She sets the final drink down and accidentally sloshes it on her hand. Embarrassed, she hurries away.
“Amateur,” Lucas huffs, picking up the cocktail in front of him. He swirls it around in the glass, eyeing it curiously.
“You think you can do better?” Lucifer tips his head, cocking an eyebrow.
“I know I can.” Lucas sets the glass on the bar top and pushes his shoulders back as he stares down the fucking devil without an ounce of fear.
My uncle chuckles. “Wanna make a bet? Whoever gets the waitress’s number first wins?”
“No!” My fist lands on the bar top and Lucas and Lucifer round on me. “We are not doing this.”
“Why?” Lucifer slowly rolls his sleeves up. “Worried your dear old husband will lose?”
“I’m not,” I say with no hesitation. “If Lucas can charm the pants off me, he can charm the pants off anyone.”
Lucifer wrinkles his nose, recoiling. “I could use without the visual.”
“You brought it upon yourself,” I snap, looking around the strip club. “Now take me home.”
“What? You find the setting offensive?” Lucifer quips.
“What’s offensive about women choosing to freely express themselves?” I tip my head, watching a dancer flip upside down on the pole in the center of the stage. “I’m impressed, actually. That takes a lot of athletic ability.”
“Then I don’t see what the problem is,” Lucifer goes on.
“And that’s exactly why this is a problem,” I snap. “He’s my husband, and you are family. I am not going to sit here and watch…this…whatever the hell it is. Now, both of you keep it in your pants and focus. You are my uncle and you are my husband,” I say pointedly to Lucifer and Lucas. “There will be no competition to see who can get the waitress’s number, okay?” The dim lights above us start flickering. “I cannot believe I’m having this conversation…and that I’m having it sober.” Rubbing my temples, I let out a breath. “Anyway, I’d get it first.”
“That’s what I’m talking about!” Lucifer excitedly brings his hand down to the table. “Nothing like some friendly competition to bring the family together, eh?”
“This is so messed up.” I run my hand over Scarlet’s fur and look at Lucas. “Please tell me you see how messed up this is.”
“It’s more than a little fucked up,” he agrees. “Though I won’t object to watching you flirt with one of the waitresses.”
“Which one?” I spit sarcastically.
“The Asian woman with the large implants,” Lucas says fast. Too fast. I cock an eyebrow.
Lucifer laughs and elbows Lucas. “Careful, mate, or you’ll be sleeping outside until sunrise.”
“Enough,” I say, and the light above us burns bright for a split second before going out with a pop. The dancer on stage startles, and Lucifer looks at me with what I can only describe as pride. I cannot lose control of my powers now. Not when he’s around. “You told me I set off an archangel beacon. So how do I turn it off?”