Chapter Twenty-Nine Charlotte
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Charlotte
By the time I see Lucifer again, it’s already early evening. I climb into the Town Car beside him, while Dagon holds the door for me, and we ride from Apollyon to the restaurant together in silence. The quiet is oddly comfortable, reminding me of how it felt when we toured his penthouse the other day.
When we arrive, the host leads us up to the second-floor Les Salons venue, which is empty, except for the two of us. Lucifer likely booked the full room.
A patterned metal structure covers the far wall. The adjacent wall is lined with glass, giving the space a modern, trendy feel. The tables are all decorated with lush summer flowers, and hundreds of floating candles cast a romantic, ethereal glow.
It’s stunning.
“The chef will be with you shortly,” the host says before he turns and leaves.
I sit across from Lucifer at a table for two, staring.
“So, this is how you live?” I ask, making a poor attempt at conversation. “Every day?”
Lucifer quirks a brow. “I’m not certain what you’re asking, Charlotte.”
I gesture around us. “The penthouse. The cars. The clothes. The food. All the luxuries.”
His eyes narrow. “Yes, I am the founder and CEO of the world’s leading luxury conglomerate.” He says it as if he’s suddenly concerned for my intelligence, but I keep going.
“And you’re also the Prince of Darkness,” I say. “Or the king of Hell, I mean.” My brows pinch together. “Is there a difference?”
Lucifer’s expression goes from confused to annoyed. “Where exactly are you going with this?”
I shrug, trying to keep the discussion going. “It’s just ... I have some questions, that’s all.”
“Questions?” he repeats, brow lifted.
“Yes, questions. About how you live. And you know, your role and everything.”
He watches me skeptically. Like he’s trying to assess what’s gotten into me.
“All right,” he says finally, surprising me with how easily he agrees. “Go on, then.”
I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind.
“Do you always have a forked tongue or is it just when you fuck me?”
The waiter chooses that exact moment to appear at our table, and I can’t help but notice his eyes go wide as the previously steady water in his hand wobbles slightly. He clears his throat, resuming the image of professionalism like a mask. “Water for the table,” he says, refusing to look at me. He places the decanter on the table and pours two glasses of white wine, leaving the bottle to chill at the table before muttering, “The chef will be out shortly.” He makes a hasty exit.
Peeking between my fingers from where I’ve buried my face in my hands, I’m still too mortified to say anything as I glance toward Lucifer, only to find his lips pressed into a thin line as he attempts to stifle his snickering. A fresh wave of embarrassment rolls through me.
“It’s not funny,” I snap, flicking my napkin at him. “And you didn’t answer me.”
He sniffs, dropping his hand before he reaches for his wineglass, his expression darkening. “I can be whatever you like, Charlotte.”
My heart flutters.
But that’s the only answer he gives me.
“And do you ... you know.” I gesture toward his back. “Have wings?”
He pauses midway through lifting his wineglass, setting it down again as he looks at me. Clearly, this question is a bit touchier, and Lucifer’s moods are mercurial. Or so I’m learning. “I find this line of questioning to be tiresome. I’d much prefer a different lesson in anatomy.” He grins at me.
“Such as?”
The tenor of his voice drops low. “Come here, darling,” he purrs.
My heart skips. “Yes, sir.”
I stand and cross to the other side of the table where he’s sitting, and suddenly, he tugs me down and into his lap. I let out a surprised eep.
He sits me between his legs, facing me toward the table, my lap out of view beneath the tablecloth. He runs a smooth hand over my hip, then down the length of my thigh before he’s spreading me, his hand doing delicious, wicked things beneath my skirt.
“What are you doing?” I hiss, attempting to cover myself where my skirt’s lifted. “The waiter will be back any minute.”
But he doesn’t allow my wiggling to deter him.
His other hand falls to my neck, gripping me hard enough my breath grows shallow.
I still instantly.
“Unless you have a different idea, I plan to enjoy you along with my meal.”
“You can’t ... I mean, I can’t ...” I gesture to my lower half. “We can’t do that while we’re here, okay?”
“And why the hell not?” he asks, clearly annoyed with me.
Lucifer isn’t used to hearing no.
“Because we’re in public,” I hiss.
He lifts a brow. “And?”
“And it’s ... I don’t know. It’s indecent.”
He chuckles. “Now you sound like my brother, Michael. He was always such a prude.”
“Michael? As in the archangel?” I blink. He plunges a finger inside me, and I moan a little. “How many siblings do you have, exactly?”
Lucifer doesn’t get the chance to answer, but from the look in his eyes when I glance over my shoulder toward him, the message is clear. I’m doing the annoying human thing.
The chef arrives at our table a moment later and acts like it’s perfectly normal for a couple to eat in the same chair.
Even as Lucifer purposefully licks the finger he just had inside me.
I listen to the chef’s description of our tasting menu, trying to enjoy all the intricate attention to detail, but I can’t help but notice how Lucifer’s hand grips my thigh, how close it is to where I want him to be, and with each passing minute, I’m more ready for him to touch me. The anticipation is killing me.
Maybe I’m a little more daring than I give myself credit for.
When the chef finally leaves, my need must be obvious, because Lucifer chuckles at me, nipping at my ear with one of his fangs as he pulls me deeper into his lap and hikes up my skirt.
“I hate you,” I breathe, my head lolling back onto his shoulder from how he touches me.
“You and most of humanity,” he purrs into my ear. “But I think what you really hate most, little dove, is that you actually love me. In the proverbial sense, of course.”
“I do not love you.”
He chooses that moment to part my pussy with his fingers, finding my clit, and I let out a loud, breathy moan. “Whatever you have to tell yourself to sleep at night, Charlotte.” I can hear the amused smirk in his voice. Clearly, he’s enjoying the way I gently rock my hips to chase his touch.
I let out another needy moan, dying to feel him inside me, before he releases my throat, placing his hand over my mouth.
“No noise. Not here. Your sounds are only for me.”
It takes only a few more strokes, his fingers dipping inside me, in and out, then circling my clit in a delicious, steady rhythm, before I’m coming, the sound muffled as I bite down on his hand.
My orgasm crashes over me, the mix of desire and the fear of being caught heightening everything.
I come so hard that for a moment, I think I see stars.
When I’m finished, Lucifer releases me, allowing me to stumble on now wobbly legs back to my side of the table as the waiter returns with the first course of the tasting menu. A warm scallop caviar that tastes so good that this time it feels like it’s my mouth that’s coming.
“Fuck me, that’s good,” I say, swallowing the single forkful. I glance between Lucifer and the empty restaurant around us. “This is insane. Everything about this is insane.”
He makes a show of licking his fingers clean of me again, which only causes me to bite my lip and feel like I’m ready for round two. I’m not sure I can wait until we go back to the penthouse later, and I’m already so wet for him, I can feel the dampness soaking the crotch of my thong.
“Do you mean me? You? The orgasm I just gave you, or the food that nearly made you have another one?” Lucifer’s wicked gaze darts to my empty plate, and I flush a little. But he instantly makes it better when he says, “I brought you here for a reason, Charlotte.”
“That reason being . . . ?”
“My brother tells me shellfish is an aphrodisiac.”
It takes a moment for me to realize he’s joking, but when I do, I throw back my head and laugh hysterically. I laugh until I’m nearly crying. At the absurdity of this whole situation. At how luxurious I feel eating this food when some people have nothing, and how ridiculous it is that I’m dining with the devil. And, more importantly, that I’m enjoying it. Thoroughly.
We’re boss and employee.
Enemies and lovers.
And now, reluctant friends, it seems.
That thought sobers me, and I fall quiet then, noticing how Lucifer’s studying me curiously. We eat in silence after that, and I try not to make it obvious how I’m watching him from across the table. Each movement is fastidious. Smooth and controlled. But no one’s charm comes that naturally. It’s the image he’s cultivated. Carefully.
But I want to see the man beneath. The true soul. Not what he’s made himself.
The waiter brings the second course a few minutes later, and only then do I finally regain the courage to speak.
“Do you ... have any friends, Lucifer?”
His dark eyes narrow. “What kind of question is that?”
“An honest one. Humor me.”
“Astaroth,” he says. “If you must know.”
“And your sister? Greed?”
“What makes you mention Greed?” His brow wrinkles like he can tell I’m up to something.
And suddenly this whole getting-under-his-skin thing is harder than I expected.
“Just wondering.” I brush off the comment.
He returns his attention to his wine.
“Would you consider ... me a friend?”
Lucifer chokes, nearly spitting some of his wine back into his glass. “What the fuck has gotten into you this evening?”
I scramble for an excuse. “I ... guess I’m just trying to be more relaxed with you, that’s all.”
“Relaxation isn’t my wheelhouse. That’s Bel.”
“Bel?”
“Belphegor. Sloth. My brother.” He rakes a hand through his hair, leaving it a bit more disheveled than it started. “What the fuck am I even paying you for?”
I ball my napkin in my hand. “To keep sitting here, even when you act like an ass.”
He leans forward, bending over the table toward me. “And what would you have me say to you, Charlotte? That we’re friends? If that’s what you need to tell yourself to feel better about the fact that we’re fucking, then so be it.”
“If not friends, then what would you call us?”
He waves a dismissive hand. “I don’t see the point in entertaining this line of questioning.”
I toss my napkin onto the table. “I think it was a mistake for me to come here tonight.” I stand and head for the stairs.
I almost reach them, and for a moment, I think he might actually allow me to walk out before suddenly, he says, “Charlotte.”
I pause.
“I will answer your questions,” he says tersely. “No matter how frivolous.” He wrinkles his nose at the word before he gestures across from him. “Please. Sit.”
I feel my lungs expand and I stand a little taller. I have to work hard to keep myself from smiling then.
I’ve won.
At least, for tonight.
I return to my seat, and the chef joins us with the third course of our tasting menu. A warm lobster carpaccio with a squash-herb salad and Thai curry-lemongrass bouillon. Lucifer’s face remains expressionless, not showing whether or not he enjoys the food. Meanwhile, I have a hard time not moaning like a cat in heat with every minuscule bite I take from the small, delicate plate.
“Must you do that?” Lucifer says eventually, gesturing toward my face. “Enjoy it so thoroughly?”
I lift a brow. “Don’t you?”
He doesn’t answer. Just takes another sip of his wine.
We’re both quiet for a beat, but then ...
I drop the verbal bomb I’ve been holding.
“Have you ever been in love, Lucifer?”
He goes still for a moment. Preternaturally still.
I tense, fully expecting him to lash out at me, like he always does whenever I get too close, but then something in his eyes softens, and when he looks toward his drink and then me, he appears almost ... lost.
And suddenly I know what I need to do.
I’m going to make Lucifer fall in love with me.
Or learn that he’s capable of caring for someone, at least.
I’ve been going about this whole thing the wrong way, trying to be like him when what I really needed to do all along is to be more like me. Beautifully human and flawed in every way.
To show him we’re worth saving.
“I’m ... not certain I’m capable of it, if I’m honest,” he says softly, the words a low, tormented whisper. He swallows hard, moving his napkin from the table into his lap then, as if suddenly remembering himself. His voice turns cold. “Though I don’t know exactly why I’m telling you any of this.”
“Maybe because you trust me.”
“Or perhaps because you’re one of the few decent humans I’ve encountered.” He swirls his wineglass before he looks at me, and I think it may be the most meaningful compliment anyone’s ever given me. “Take that as you will,” he says. “I find humanity often disappoints me.”
“But I don’t?”
“You wear your desires on your face, Charlotte. Yet somehow, you still surprise me.”
I smile. “Maybe I’m more complicated than you think.”
He huffs. “Yes, well, I’d know if I could see inside that foolish little head of yours.”
“What do you mean by that?” I ask. “You’ve said it more than once now, but I’ve ... never been certain what you mean.”
He sighs, abandoning his fork next to his plate. “It means that when I look at humanity, I can see your greatest sins. It’s what I use to punish you.”
What a sad, awful existence that must be. Always seeing the terrible. No wonder he thinks the worst of us.
“And with me?”
“But with you, I ... find I cannot.”
“What does that mean?”
His nose flares. “It means it doesn’t work with you.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know exactly.” He shakes his head.
My mouth goes dry. “That ... can’t be good, can it?”
The waiter chooses that moment to return with the fourth course of our tasting menu, and our conversation pauses.
“I know you’re not exactly the sharing type, but why not tell me this from the start?” I ask once the waiter steps away.
He shrugs a shoulder. “I didn’t think it was relevant.”
“Lucifer.” I meet his gaze. “Be honest with me. For once. Please.”
Reluctantly, he nods. “I needed to be certain you weren’t involved.”
“Involved in what?”
His eyes darken. “In whatever wicked game my siblings are playing.”
My eyes grow wide. “Why would your siblings plot against you?”
He traces the rim of his wineglass with his finger before he looks at me. “Gabriel’s due to return shortly, and when he does, whoever rules New York City will receive a heavenly get-out-of-jail-free card from my Father. Total redemption. It’s why we’re here.”
“Total redemption?” I breathe. “What does that mean?”
“Access to Heaven. Our wings, of course.” Lucifer swirls his wine. “Among other things.” But he doesn’t elaborate further.
“But why here?” I gesture to the window, to the city that waits below. “Why New York City?”
“If all the world’s a stage, New York City is the center spotlight. It’s simply the arena, the haven of vice we’ve been given.”
“And Gabriel’s message,” I say uncertainly, “you’re ... you’re certain it’s true?”
He quirks a brow. “You think I wouldn’t have done my due diligence?” I blush slightly at the insinuation, but continue to hold his gaze until finally, he sighs. “Only my Father is capable of opening the gates of Hell, and Gabriel is bound to the truth as his messenger.”
“And the reason? That ... that God let you out?”
I’m almost too terrified of the answer to ask, honestly.
“For fun? The apocalypse? Who the bloody fuck knows?” Lucifer snorts. “Your guess is as good as mine, darling.”
I suck in a harsh breath, feeling more than a little unhinged that even the Originals don’t know what God’s plan for all this might be.
They’re just as in the dark as the rest of us are.
“Okay, so that’s ... a ... much bigger deal than I was expecting. But I’d say you basically have that in the bag, wouldn’t you?”
“The winds of public opinion and celestial battles shift quickly, and I can’t afford to lose.” Hellfire sparks in his eyes. Bright and terrible.
Though this is the most unguarded I’ve ever seen him.
I mean to ask him why, but the waiter returns to refill our water, and I ... think I already know the answer. I would give anything to have my father’s love. His approval. It doesn’t matter what he did to me, or how much I hated him, then or now. When that’s something you’ve never had, a part of you will always crave it.
And Lucifer would move Heaven and Earth to reclaim even a piece of it.
The waiter returns shortly with the fifth course, and when he leaves, Lucifer catches me unprepared when he says, “How about you, Charlotte? Have you ever been in love?”
I pause, lowering my eyes toward my plate.
“Once,” I answer honestly. “Or I thought I was. But that ... dream came crashing down quickly.” I set down my fork a moment later, the darkness of my own past catching up with me. “I’m sorry, but I’m not hungry anymore.”
“Come.” Lucifer beckons me.
He takes me by the hand and leads me from the restaurant then, leaving the waiter a more-than-generous tip before thanking the chef personally.
It isn’t until we’re alone in the car and he turns that handsome devilish grin on me that I finally ask, “Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.”
When we pull up outside 172 Madison Avenue, the building that includes his penthouse, my heart sinks a bit. But then he grabs my hand and, instead of heading to his penthouse, he leads me to a separate part of the building. One I haven’t seen previously.
A few minutes later, we’re standing on the rooftop, the stars overhead twinkling above the lights of the city. The view is breathtaking, and it feels as if I could reach my hand up to the heavens and scoop some of the stardust from the sky to keep.
“It’s gorgeous,” I say, staring out at the stars and the night sky, the city laid out at my feet. “Is this what you wanted to show me?”
Lucifer smirks. “No, Charlotte. Have a little faith.”
He turns his attention toward the sky, and the shadows around us move suddenly, and then, before I can draw my next breath, the sky above us is bursting with color. Green. Blue. Purple. Pink. The aurora borealis. Over New York City.
I gasp, momentarily speechless, and then I’m laughing, laughing with all the joy that fills me as the lights sweep over us, painting me in their glow.
I turn toward him, breathless and uncertain what to say.
“You asked about my role,” Lucifer says, stepping toward me, an amused, sad grin on his lips, as if the massive upheaval in nature and magnetic physics he created doesn’t even faze him. “I’m the Lightbringer. Or I used to be.”
I’m uncertain what I say in response, or if I even say anything at all. If I do, I don’t remember, at least. I’m too shocked by the revelation that it isn’t the shadows Lucifer’s been moving.
It’s the light.
God, it’s so obvious now.
It bends toward him in every room. Seeking him, almost naturally.
A short while later, he drops me back at my apartment for the evening, having reluctantly agreed to let me go when I insisted that I needed to go home. As soon as I close the apartment door behind me, I go straight to the bedroom, trying to be quiet so I don’t wake Jax, but also because I need to be alone. I collapse onto my bed, unable to stop myself from crying.
I cry for him first.
For myself second.
And then for the world.
For the secret, buried parts of him. This beautifully broken divine being that no one else will likely ever get to see.