Bloody Valentine
The full moon shines down on us, casting a glow across the city. People gawk at Luke and push their way closer to him. He doesn’t appear to notice as his eyes light up and a smile takes over his once serious expression. “Let’s dance,” he says, motioning toward a door to a club.
“Umm. No,” I shake my head, walking out of his grasp. “I’m the worst dancer that ever lived.”
“Let me lead. I’m very good,” the innuendo isn’t lost on me. If his words weren’t sexy enough, the way his tongue darts out, running across his lower lip, does the trick of lowering my defenses.
He grabs my hand, interlacing our fingers, and drags me toward the door.
Nothing good can come of me being in the devil’s arms for the night.
I allow him to lead me into what can only be described as a den of turpitude.
The room is packed full of gyrating bodies, the fragrance of the place equal parts sweat and a cacophony of various perfumes and colognes.
The odor is enough to gag a person. My hand comes up to shield my nose as I will my senses to adjust to the onslaught.
We take a seat at a round high-top table at the back of the room, voyeurs to the overt displays of desire playing out like a porno in front of us.
Two fallen angels attempting to not get caught up in the fray—at least I am trying not to.
Lucifer, on the other hand, is basking in it.
This energy fuels him like the storms do me.
I attempt to make conversation to distract me from the lovers entwined in each other. Nothing good can come from any lapse in judgment on my part. This place is sin wrapped up in a dark and musky club located in the underbelly of New Orleans. It’s fitting that Lucifer would simply happen across it.
I’ve lived here for years, but I’ve never stumbled upon this place, yet there is something achingly familiar about it too. It’s as though the devil himself orchestrated the entire happenstance.
Very likely.
“Thank you, Victoria,” Luke says from across the table, placing his hand on top of mine.
“For what?” I ask reluctantly.
“For obliging me.” He smiles. “You’ve been a good sport today.”
I roll my eyes. “You didn’t give me a choice, Lucifer.”
His face falls, but just slightly.
“Please stop calling me that,” he says, looking young and uncertain.
“It’s your name.”
He blows out a harsh breath. “Just for tonight, can I be someone else?”
The sincerity in his voice tugs at my heartstrings.
Could he truly wish to be someone else? Could the side of him that I catch glimpses of be his true nature?
I’ve spent so much time villainizing him that it’s hard to switch views.
It’s not a stretch to imagine that even the ruler of Hell wants a break.
I consider how the request was made too; it was more of a plea than a demand. In a place like this, he’s king. These people would relish walking alongside Lucifer. Yet he just wants to be anyone else.
“They’re not all bad,” he says, reading my mind for the millionth time. “Some of them just want to be someone else for the night. Can you blame them?”
“Are we still talking about these people? Or you?”
“Both?” He huffs. “Doesn’t it ever get exhausting being this divine creature that everyone expects so much from?”
I lower my head, feeling exposed, vulnerable, under Lucifer’s intense gaze. “It’s been a long time since anyone has expected anything from me,” I admit. I say it so quietly, he shouldn’t hear it over the music, but this is Lucifer we’re talking about.
“You’re wrong,” he says, shaking his head as though that should be the most obvious truth. “Do you really think you and that hunter of yours are the only fallen angels on Earth?”
I narrow my eyes at the direction this conversation is taking.
“Are you saying we’re not?”
He laughs at me like I’m adorable, and I glare in response. “Of course you’re not. The only difference is you’re allowed to roam in the open. The others have to hide because if the arcs found them, they’d be exterminated.”
“Why?” I press, wanting—no, needing—him to tell me everything.
For so long, I felt isolated and alone. Until Zeke.
“You’re doing God’s dirty work for him here on Earth.
You fell, yet you’re still working for him.
You’re cheap labor, and it saves his precious angels,” he grinds out the words.
“The others, those who fell to simply enjoy Earth’s trappings …
” He wiggles his brows, but I don’t react.
I want him to continue. He frowns but relents. “You serve a purpose. They don’t.”
“They tried to do the same to me.”
“They were messing with you, and only because you insulted one of them. I didn’t really need to save you, Victoria. God never would’ve allowed Malachi to kill you. He would’ve intervened if I hadn’t.”
“I don’t think so,” I say, shaking my head.
“I know so. You are part of a bigger picture. This war you speak of—” He stops, staring intently into my eyes. “You’re right. It’s coming.”
There are so many questions running through my head, and I want to ask them all, but he puts his finger up and shakes it back and forth.
“This is my night, and I’m done talking about Him.”
I bite my lip, one more question on the tip of my tongue, and I can’t help but spit it out.
“Do you know why Zeke betrayed me?”
He picks at something on the table, averting my eyes. “You already know the answer to that, love.”
“Was anything he said to me true?” I wish I could take the question back, so as to not sound so pathetic. Seeking validation from the devil is a recipe for disaster, and I’m feeding right into it.
He blows out an exasperated breath. “You’ll have to ask him. Though why you’d bother is the greater question. He’s God’s pawn, Victoria. I doubt you’ll get the full truth.”
“I’m sorry I asked.”
“The truth is hard to hear. He stole your innocence and sold you to God as a prisoner of war.”
“Unreal, Luke. Why would you even need to bring that up?”
“Why not? It’s true. He deflowered something that wasn’t meant for him.”
“Yuck. Why don’t you just pee on me now?”
He raises a brow, smirking. “That sounds devilish.”
“One more word and deal or no, I’ll break this arrangement and take my chances in Hell.”
“You know that’s not exactly a threat. I want you in Hell.”
I groan, snapping my attention back to the people swaying to the music.
A cover band plays on stage, the current song something new by MGK. It feels appropriate, considering Luke has dubbed tonight Valentine’s Day. I chuckle at the words, so very freaking fitting.
“Dance with me,” he says, standing and holding out his hand.
“Nope.” I shake my head. “Like I said, I can’t.”
“My night. My rules. Up,” he commands.
I glower back at the devil but concede, knowing that if I don’t, he’ll find some loophole to extend my sentence.
Luke slips right into the fray, bouncing around like every other twenty-something in the joint. He looks like he fits, his youthful features making him look no older than twenty-five. I savor the way his black tee showcases every exquisite muscle underneath. Stop!
He bumps his shoulder into me, the universal sign for get your ass moving.
I roll my eyes and decide to just let go.
This is his night, and I’ll play the game.
The atmosphere is charged, and with the low lighting and deep bass pumping below our feet, it’s easy to throw caution to the wind and get lost in the fun.
It has been years since I’ve allowed myself to get caught up in human traditions. It seems ridiculous, considering the alleys right outside are crawling with demons. My hands come up above my head and my hips sway in time to the beat.
I have to admit it is liberating in ways not much else is.
Letting go and drowning in the lyrics and bass created by the instruments is euphoric.
The space is so tight that Luke takes liberties he shouldn’t, constantly touching some part of me.
I know I should set boundaries, but I need this night.
I’m the queen of doing things for the wrong reasons, and perhaps tonight has everything to do with my need for validation.
Zeke’s betrayal marred a part of me that felt secure.
Luke’s mending those scars with every brush and every glance my way.
Wrong? Probably. But I’m not going to think too much about that.
The music slows and Luke grabs both my hands in his, pulling me in and pushing me out to the beat. My eyes catch on his lips as he mouths the words to me. My stomach flips over itself, the moment so intense. So intimate. My chest swells, feeling like it could burst any moment.
The air shifts, and everything around us seems to go on.
People jump around, pumping their arms in the air and bellowing the words, but in our small bubble, time freezes as if we are in a time warp and nobody else notices.
We stare each other down, two starved people looking for their salvation in the other.
Our bodies inch closer of their own accord, my hands coming to his chest. I lean in, closing my eyes.
As if by divine intervention, the music ends and the moment is broken.
Suspended a measly inch from Luke’s lips, I pull back as if he’s burned me. His face pinches in something akin to pain before he takes a large step back, putting needed distance between us.
“All right guys, we’re going to get karaoke started,” a busty blonde on the stage calls out, signaling a changeup. “Let’s give Rebel Dogs a huge round of applause for knocking us on our asses for the past hour.”
Hoots and hollers rise up to levels that are uncomfortable for my celestial ears to handle. Apparently, Rebel Dogs is a favorite of everyone in the place. I have to admit, they affected me.
No. Luke affected me. Too much.
“Okay,” I call out above the noise to Luke. “We’ve had enough of pretending to be young.”
“And human,” Luke smirks.
“Yeah, that too.”
We’re heading toward the door when the busty blonde from the stage steps into our path, bypassing me and placing a red painted nail to Luke’s chest.
You’ve got to be kidding me.
Can this man go anywhere without drawing unnecessary attention?
Peeking a glance at them, I groan. He’s laying on the charm, thick and convincingly.
The blonde is eating out of his hands. I don’t even want to know what’s being said. She’s practically panting, and his head’s thrown back, laughing at something she said. He’s not even engineering her reaction to him. This is one hundred percent her reaction to his natural charm.
The blonde looks over her shoulder, leveling me with a fierce glare. I give it right back, mumbling under my breath about tramps and bar whores, when she turns toward me.
“You can’t leave until one of you sings, and he says you’re up.”
I scrunch my nose. “Not happening.”
“Come now, Victoria. Take one for the team. You owe me.” He grins a slow, joker-wide smile.
I step toward him, leaning into his ear. “I can’t, Lucifer. I suck at singing. Angelic voice, I have not,” I admit.
He laughs. “Well, you’ll have to make a trade.”
My hands come to my hips and I drill him with a look that says, you’re pushing your damn luck.
“Those are my terms,” he says with a shrug.
“I’ll share my bed with you.”
He lifts a brow. “That’s already been settled, love. You’ll have to do better.”
I huff, “Fine. Breakfast tomorrow. That’s my final offer.”
He nods. “Done.”
“It seems like I’ll be taking one for the team.” He smiles down at the blonde, and she squeals in delight.
“What are you singing?” She claps her hands excitedly.
He puckers his lips, seemingly contemplating his choices. “‘Riptide.’ Vance Joy.”
She nods and runs off toward the stage.
I widen my eyes to say what the hell. He just shrugs.
This night has been so utterly against everything I stand for. I don’t relax. I don’t dance. I sure as hell don’t pretend to be human. Yet I can’t deny that I’ve enjoyed every damn minute of it.