Lucille
Chapter
Seven
Selfish. Disobedient. Avoidant. A pain in his ass.
I didn’t care what he thought or called me; I wasn’t seeking Ronen out, and I wasn’t training.
Instead, I marched through the red-carpeted halls with a permanent glare fixed on my face.
The castle staff scurried out of my way, avoiding eye contact, which I was fine with.
They barely acknowledged me anyway. Luckily, I had enough control to keep the whispering menace at bay, but damn was it hard.
My Infernus wanted to come out. It thrived on the new tune in my emotions.
Anger always fueled it, while grief seemed to deplete it.
He thought I’d train the day after my mother’s funeral? I didn’t know which he I referred to. My father, who gave Ronen the orders, or Ronen for even thinking I’d comply.
Since I had already interrogated a castle maid coming out of my father’s rooms as to his whereabouts, I knew where he’d be, and I knew he’d most likely be alone.
My pace slowed as I drew closer to the greenhouse’s double doors.
Frost patches usually peppered the black wrought-iron frame sparingly, etching decorative designs across the glass.
I could always admire the icy flowers on the other side of the fern-like patterns.
But that wasn’t the case today. Thick ice coated the entire surface, hiding the black frame, swallowing the twisted iron handles, and concealing the frozen flowers.
My father was here, alright.
The cold handle stung my hand as I pushed open one of the doors and stopped.
It was destroyed.
Every ice-coated, preserved flower lay scattered across the frozen ground in shards. Roses, hydrangeas, peonies—all the flowers my mother carefully cultivated—were ripped apart into a glaring, colorful mess.
The stinging cold from the door handle no longer registered. Neither did my shivers from the deadly chill.
“What have you done?” I breathed.
Lucifer sat on the heated bench, hunched over, clutching his head as he muttered to himself.
“The Eternal Forest is the way.” He shook his head. “Was the way. It was supposed to work. Why didn’t it work?”
Plant remains and ice dirtied his once nicely pressed gray suit. Red streaked through his white-blond hair, most likely from the blood dripping off his hands.
How could he? I had nothing left of hers. This was it. Right here!
I stepped further into the greenhouse, wincing as ice crunched beneath my feet. My father’s power crept along my skin, leaching blood from my extremities. It reminded me of the time in Elora when he invaded my mind, testing and pushing my limits. But this felt different.
Unpredictable. Unstable. Vengeful.
“What have you done?” I said again, my voice cracking.
I called to my Infernus to coat my skin, giving myself a sliver of warmth.
He stiffened. “Why are you here?” he demanded, slowly standing. He dusted off the evidence of his destruction and turned to meet my accusing stare. I had thought the greenhouse appeared desolate and heartbreaking. But it didn’t compare to his empty, bloodshot eyes.
His blatant suffering cooled my anger. How could it not when it mirrored my own?
“I asked you a question.” His lifeless tone had me stepping toward him.
Was it foolish of me to hope that we could comfort each other? That the only two people who loved Saraqael as much as we did could grieve together? He was still my father—the only parent I had left.
“Searching for you. I wanted to make sure you were okay. I thought you may have been bitten.”
He tilted his head, exposing his neck. “Does it look like I was?”
Pale, healthy skin stretched across his neck. No bitemark, not even a blemish marked it.
I frowned. “But I heard and saw—”
“Nothing that mattered. Now get out of my sight.”
My Infernus shuddered, and I had to remind myself he was hurting as badly as I was. We both just needed time.
He glared at the dark ring wrapped around his bloody finger. It looked like he’d tried to pry it off and failed. But why? Now that Lilith was dead, the ring was done serving its purpose. She no longer had to be confined to her kingdom. He no longer should be bound to her.
“Why can’t you take it off?”
His head snapped up. “Did my words fail to reach your ears? Isn’t it enough that I’ve had to look upon the face of the one who murdered the love of my life?”
“Love of your life?” The words tore out of me. “You made it seem like she was just any other angel that died! You acted like she was insignificant!” I screamed.
“The council forced—” My father cut off his reply, confusion flashing in his gaze before he composed himself and straightened. “I owe no explanation to the one whose recklessness condemned her to never find peace.”
“What—what do you mean?”
“My cordistella is a disembodied soul, restlessly wandering Hell’s Circles until she ceases to exist.” He let that sink in, then finished with a sharp, “Because of a daughter I never asked for.”
I jolted back. The lingering lightness from this morning and my anger snuffed out like the purple flames flickering on my skin.
An ocean of pain filled my chest, vast and unending.
It skimmed the surface, stinging my eyes and threatening to pool over.
With every ounce of will I had left, I held back my bitter tears and fled.
The halls blurred. Faces, voices, they all faded in the echo of his stabbing words—in his reveal. I ran, trying to find a place to hide away from Hell’s judgmental eyes. I ran, with the words wandering Hell’s Circles, daughter I never asked for, and ceases to exist, playing on repeat in my head.
My mom would just be gone? I wouldn’t even be able to see her in the afterlife?
My knees buckled as I rammed into a firm chest. Hands latched onto my waist, keeping me from dropping to the ground. I knew who it was the moment we collided. His presence wove around me, balsam and spicy clove soothing my heaving lungs. It reminded me of my home on Earth, but that home was gone.
The reminder was the last drop to break the cresting wave.
I didn’t want to break down in front of him.
I didn’t want to come to him at all. Back on Earth, I imagined what it’d be like to find my cordistella.
He’d fill the aching gaps in my chest. He’d hold me without the intention of letting me go.
I’d be precious to him. Loved. He would say things just to hear my laughter or see my smile.
I’d dreamed of romance, devotion, unfailing love.
Instead, my cordistella belittled me, lied to me, and despised me for something I couldn’t control.
But I didn’t push him away or storm off.
His Dreads were behind him, and I had no strength left.
I lifted my head, meeting fathomless, soul-consuming golden eyes, and whispered, “Please.”
I hoped his Dreads didn’t hear the broken begging in my voice or see the shaking in my body as tears completely blurred my vision.
“Find Alexei in the pit. I’ll meet you there.”
His Dreads withdrew, boots clapping down the hall as they continued to the arena. Once they left, shadows pooled out of Ronen, filling the entire space.
My head dropped to his uniformed chest, my hand trying to muffle my cries.
He scooped me up, sank to the ground with me cradled in his lap, and removed my hand from my mouth.
“No one will hear, Hellion.”
Except him.
I didn’t want that. There was a lot I didn’t want, like the stupid hope that Lucifer might’ve grown to love me. Like my tattered remains yearning for comfort and relief—not more pain. When did I start wanting his acceptance? When did I start wanting a father? I was such a fool.
The only parent who ever cared about me was my mother.
I cried into Ronen’s neck, and he brushed his thumb back and forth over my hand. His shadows caressed my face, absorbing every tear and damp trail as if they could take it all away. It helped. He helped. But I’d never tell him that, not that I had to. I bet he could feel it.
We sat in the pitch-black hall, quiet, until my shaking cries died to sniffles and I gathered the strength to stand.
The moment I pulled away, a part of me ached for him.
I wanted to grab his hand, to feel that soothing touch.
I wanted to be enveloped in that soul-aching scent.
Was it the bond? Was it my need for comfort? Or something more?
Ronen reined in his shadows and stood. I blinked into his black-and-gold leathers, unable to meet his gaze.
“Is it Oliver?” he asked.
I shook my head.
“Your father?”
I stayed silent.
“Your mother?”
My head lowered, and my heart twinged.
Did he know what I did to her? What she had become?
Ronen took my chin and forced me to look at him. He searched my face, his attention lingering on my puffy eyes, before sighing and releasing me.
“Spend time with Oliver today. I’ll have MJ lead your squad until you’re ready.”
Lead your squad. How had I forgotten that I’d killed Moira and earned her position? Did he truly believe I was capable of leading them?
“And tomorrow?”
“You’ll lead and train.”
A protest surged to my lips. But it froze when he removed the block on the bond for a split second.
Challenge, determination, and desire speared through my pain just as he brought his tingling finger across my cheek to tuck a stray wave behind my ear.
His essence wove through my mind and body, easing my aches and filling an emptiness I never knew I had.
The sensation was magnetic—irresistible.
It drew me closer and made me crave things I shouldn’t
“You have more to learn, Hellion.” He drilled me with his searing gaze. “Lots. For one, I’m not indulgent. My orders stand.” Dropping his hand, he reestablished the block, cutting me off from him.
I inhaled sharply, feeling like I’d lost something important. I wanted it back and hated myself for the weakness. Digging my nails into my palms, I turned to head toward the healers’ wing.
“And Hellion,” Ronen said softly, warmth threading through his voice.
And something more. A whisper of an emotion that halted me, that made me question if I was hearing an unspoken truth or making it up in my head.
Regardless, his tone did dangerous things to my heart.
“The night will always be a safe haven for the stars.”