Chapter 10
Yvonne
“You stole my money?!” Yvonne’s screeching voice makes me wince.
The vase flies toward me, but I dodge it just in time, watching as it hits the wall and smashes into pieces.
Yvonne pants, her brows narrowed. That damned hair of hers is styled in loose curls.
Her dress is sage green and satin, with a wide, cognac colored belt around her waist. Her gold jewelry shimmers under the soft daylight, and it makes me wonder how much gold she owns.
Clearly, it’s real and given the number of rings on her fingers, and the size of her earrings, it’s fucking heavy.
“Borrowed,” I correct. “I borrowed your money.”
“You took it without permission! That is the definition of stealing, you rotten bastard!”
“Fine,” I roll my eyes, then pull out the money I withdrew from the ATM machine, tossing it on the small table. “There.”
Her brows narrow in suspicion. “Where did you get that? Did you steal it, too?”
“No,” I drawl out. “I took it out of the ATM machine.”
Yvonne frowns. “How do you even know what that is? You’ve been asleep for two-hundred years. Matter of fact, whose card did you use?”
“Since when do I have to explain myself to you?” I scoff. “It’s none of your business, Yvonne.”
“Just making sure you don’t bring cops to my doorstep,” she mumbles, then walks past me to clean up the mess.
Her scent wafts through the air, causing my eyes to snap shut as her smell assaults my senses.
My jaw clenches and I can no longer think straight.
Whenever she’s within breathing distance from me, I suddenly just want to rip her clothes off and fuck her into tomorrow. God, why is she so irresistible?
Yvonne’s my biggest reckoning, sent to test me. And it’s working — because all I can think about is her. I’m already breathing, living and yearning for her, knowing damn well I shouldn’t.
The smell of blood fills the air and Yvonne hisses.
“Damn it,” she groans, sucking the blood off her finger. My instincts are at an all-time high, wishing nothing more than to drain her body off the blood. That’s when images of Martha flash behind my eyes.
The way I drank all of her blood until she went limp in my arms, the way even that didn’t satisfy the blood-thirsty monster inside of me. The guilt starts eating me alive, and I take a step back, forcing the memories to the back of my head. My heart feels like it’s breaking in half all over again.
“What?” Yvonne says flatly, taking the finger out of her mouth. My eyes fall I am yuon her, while she picks up the pieces, walks to the kitchen and throws them in the trash.
“Nothing,” I mutter. “So, how far have you got with your research about our situation?”
“Do you want me to be honest, or to lie to you?”
“Why the fuck would I want lies? Tell me honestly what you’ve found out.”
“We shouldn’t have had sex, for more than one reason. The main one being, it only made the connection stronger,” she explains.
“Damn, I see why you asked if I wanted you to lie,” I sit down on the chair, rubbing my hands all over my face. “So, what now?”
“Now, we hope my little helper finds a solution, because being tied to you for the rest of eternity, is something that I’ll never allow.”
I scoff. “Likewise. The only woman I ever wanted to be tied to forever, was Martha.”
Yvonne snorts. “You weren’t thinking much of your wife while you were balls deep inside of me.”
The silence that follows is deafening. Lucifer’s eyes widen, both in shock at the audacity of me to spew out something so horrible, and disturbed that I dared to bring up not only our night of passion, but his dead wife too.
The air around us shifts, the tension thick with emotions, almost too thick. I swallow, it’s not that I regret the words, just the timing of them. It’s not like I lied, but I don’t think that fact is going to help me right now. Bringing up his dead wife was not a wise idea.
In an instant, I find myself slammed against the wall. Lucifer in front of me, grasping my throat tightly. A sharp, stabbing sensation floods me, the sound of my back cracking filling the room. My vision blurs from the pain, a cry of agony coming from the back of my throat.
“What the fuck did you just say, Yvonne?” he hisses with rage, spittle flying from his lips.
It takes me a moment to register his words because of the pain radiating down my spine. If he had slammed me any harder against the wall, I am not sure if I would have been able to walk. If he broke my back, would that break his back too?
“Y-you heard m-me,” I gasp out, struggling to get the words out. Now that it’s come to this, I no longer regret anything. Fuck him, and fuck his dead wife. Matter of fact, I’m about to ruin everything for him, and make sure that the pain he’s feeling never leaves.
“How dare you put her name in your damned mouth?”
A small, almost wicked grin tugs on the corners of my lips. My eyes gleam in excitement, and my heart is pounding in my ribcage.
All I’ve ever wanted was to get revenge on Lucifer, and the rest of his forsaken family.
However, considering the things that have happened recently, I’m starting to wonder if we’ll ever manage to detangle ourselves from one another.
If he’s going to kill me, then I need to at least witness the expression on his face when he finds out the truth.
“You didn’t kill Martha,” I breathe out, and his grip on my throat tightens slightly.
I don’t look away from his red eyes, watching as every emotion plays across his face.
“I planned it all, Lucifer. I stalked you two from the day you got married, I learned your routine, so I could use magic on her. She didn’t accidentally cut herself…
” I push my head forward, so I am as close to him as possible and whisper, “I made her do it.”
The shift is immediate.
Pure and utter disbelief flashes behind his eyes. He doesn’t release me, he doesn’t tighten his grip, either. Instead, he stares at me intensely, searching for any trace of dishonesty. Then, it happens.
Everything inside of Lucifer, shatters.
His shoulders tense, his entire body going rigid. He doesn’t blink, he doesn’t move. He just stares at me, his eyes holding hurt of a million people at once.
“You did what?”
The question itself isn’t a surprise — it’s how he asked it. The tone is quieter, his voice filled with doubt. The raw ache, the evident pain in his voice, makes something in my chest tighten.
“You heard me,” I respond, the words shaky.
“It was all me. An eye for an eye. How does it feel, Lucifer? Knowing that it’s because of me, that she’s dead?
That it was me who killed her, albeit indirectly, and that it was me who forced you to dream of that exact moment time and time again, for two hundred years? ”
“Why?”
His hand drops from my throat, and he steps back. He’s still reeling in shock, unable to comprehend anything. No matter what I say, there’s a big chance nothing will register in his brain. Though, I know that as soon as it all sinks in, anger, fury, and hatred will follow suit.
“What do you think?” I gasp for air, my hand immediately rubbing over the sore spots over my throat, as I push myself off the wall. The pain is immediate, and I have to hold myself up using the nearby chair, otherwise I’d lose balance and slump down to the floor.
“She was innocent,” it’s all but a whisper and God, does it piss me off.
My eyes snap to his, narrowing in blazing fury.
“Innocent? I don’t care, Lucifer. My coven was innocent, too.
They never did a thing to you, and until the day you had them burned at the stake, you had never crossed paths with either one of them.
Spare me the innocence bullshit. You’re no saint, either.
And for the record, if given the chance, I’d kill the bitch over, and over again, just to see you in this ugly, pathetic state. ”
That’s what breaks the shock and vulnerability.
Thankfully, I see it before it happens. My mouth works quickly, casting a simple, yet effective shielding spell. There’s a faint, white glow around me, and despite his best efforts, Lucifer can’t break through it.
His jaw clenches tightly, his eyes are in such a deep shade of red, that it sends chills of unease down my body. I’ve awakened the monster inside of him, and he won’t stop until he takes everything away from me, until I’m broken and brought to his knees.
“I will kill you,” his voice is low, menacing, and the threat is clear. “I promise you Yvonne, one of these days, I will kill you and I’ll make sure you fucking suffer.”
“Try it,” I spit. “I won’t just sit back and let you do it, you bastard.”
I turn on my heel, grabbing my black cloak off the chair, leaving the cottage, and slamming the door shut behind me.
My blood is boiling, and I’m in a desperate need to find some answers, or solutions to this whole fucking mess.
Waiting for Octavia is no longer an option, I’ll have to work it out for myself.
So, why do I not feel as good as I thought I would, after I told him the truth?
The image of him breaking so slowly, so steadily in front of me, flashes behind my eyes and I can’t shake it off.
It takes me around an hour and a half to reach my destination, which was just enough to blow off some steam, and calm down. Though I still don’t feel content or happy, that the truth is out in the open.
Why does something akin to guilt start to bloom in my chest, at the mere thought of how deeply my words must’ve hurt him?