Chapter Text
Lucivar runs through the house, down the stairs, and along the corridor when he hears the sound of the front door opening and feels a wave of power that tells him the one who wears the Black is once more present in SaDiablo Hall.
Daemon looks at him from where he's standing just inside the door, lifting one perfectly groomed eyebrow.
"In a hurry, Prick?" he asks calmly, but Lucivar can see his eyes glinting with amusement and more.
Heedless of Beale or anyone else who might be lingering, Lucivar crosses the entryway and drags his brother into a desperate clash of a kiss. For all his outward calm, Daemon meets his intensity.
"You're safe," Lucivar breathes, drawing back to rest their foreheads together, hands restlessly running over Daemon's body.
"Did you doubt me?"
Lucivar shakes his head.
"Not you. Sometimes it's hard to believe Dorothea and her entire court are gone."
Daemon reaches up and grasps the back of Lucivar's neck. His long nails press in, the tiny bite of pain making Lucivar shiver.
"They'll never touch us again."
"I know," Lucivar says. "I'm still glad you're back, Bastard."
"Me too, Prick," Daemon says, drawing him into another kiss.