So, minutes later, she was on the way to his home, the invitation tucked carefully in her purse.
Lucius studied the invitation, both amused and disturbed. So Cortin wanted Blackfeather to visit for a week, did she? That could be either good or bad, and he couldn't decide which. On the whole, though, he couldn't argue against the visit, since Sara had no valid—no believable, for that matter—reason to turn down such a professionally valuable invitation. "It should be safe enough," he said at last. "She wouldn't dream of hurting an invited guest unless you do something stupid, and you certainly know better than that. You can also find out for me just what the hell is going on."
Blackfeather nodded; he'd made no secret, from her, that he had to be extremely careful about using his "psychic gifts" where Cortin was concerned. "You don't think she knows I'm your mistress?"
"She must—I did acknowledge you as such." Lucius smiled. "By this time I'm sure she has guessed—or been told—my real identity, but that can make no difference to her publicly."
Blackfeather returned his smile. He claimed to be Shayan, and sometimes he used his gifts to assume some of the Hell-King's attributes, but she didn't believe he really was; he was too different from the Shayan she'd been told about while her parents were alive. Her first meeting with him was still vivid in her mind, though she tried to remember only the part where he'd rescued her—something the real Shayan never would have done.
Shannon smiled to himself, reading her thoughts. Rescuing Sara had been little more than an impulse triggered by his respect for courage; a five-year-old who killed one of the men trying to rape her was hardly usual. She'd interested him enough to keep her alive against his men's wishes, taking her home until he could decide what to do with her. She'd proven interesting to have around, and he'd almost immediately discovered that she also added a dimension to his McHenry identity, so he'd quickly decided to adopt her—a procedure his McHenry identity made both fast and simple.
But his then mistress hadn't wanted to be burdened with a child, and hadn't been worth the effort of reconditioning, so she'd left. He really should have replaced her; not doing so, and raising a child alone, had caused a minor scandal. Sara had claimed all his free time, though, and he'd been fascinated by the idea of making her his mistress. She'd agreed, a formality he insisted on from all his live-in partners—except Victor, who'd made himself the exception by his presumption—in spite of the fact that she couldn't possibly know what she was agreeing to. Some simple physical modifications had made her capable of accommodating him, and some judicious conditioning had insured she would enjoy, but never reveal, their "touching games". Even then he'd refrained until her birthday, wanting the first time to be special for her.
It had been, with him changing shapes and techniques to amuse her. She'd enjoyed all of them, not surprising since that was how he'd conditioned her—but he was surprised that she had decided she liked his "classical" shape and technique best, especially that early. And she'd kept that preference through the years. She'd become his mistress openly at 16, causing another minor scandal, but that had only amused her.
He came back to the present, reading her apprehension at the upcoming visit, and held out his arms.