Chapter 38
The moment I’m through the door, I lose my grip on Amarah’s hand. I spin so fast I nearly give myself whiplash, ready to hurl myself back through.
Before I even make it one step back, she’s coming through. There’s nothing visible behind her; it’s like she’s emerging from a waterfall of ink held perfectly still.
I let out a heavy breath of relief, grab her by the shoulders, and pull her close beside me.
I tilt her chin up so she has to see me. She looks a bit stunned, and a sharp stab of guilt hits me because this is my fault.
The moment that Grimhorn grabbed her, all I saw was red.
Everything else bled away the instant she vanished.
I ran toward her without a second thought, but it all happened so fucking fast. One second, she was there, the next I was staring into those wrought-iron gates leading to nothing but darkness. And I didn’t hesitate to follow.
I swear I won’t ever hesitate to go after someone I care about ever again.
I ended up thrown into a hallway similar to the one we just left when a door opened, and I scented my little slayer instantly. Again, without a single damned thought, I went straight through.
I’m not usually the type to swing at a woman, but I couldn’t stop myself. I didn’t know who that Azahara person was, and she was the only one near my girl. The thought that she might be tormenting Amarah hit me like a blade to the throat, and all I wanted was to tear her apart.
Obviously, that was unnecessary, and thank fuck for that. Once we’ve got Lucifer, I’m hog-tying Amarah until she explains what’s going on with these Grimhorns.
“Are you okay?”
She pauses for what I feel like is eternity before saying, “I’m fine.”
Her pupils have returned to normal, and the color is back in her face.
I drag my thumb across her cheek and lean in to place a kiss against her forehead. “Good. Let’s go.”
“She instructed me to tell you something. That it should be you that opens the door. Apparently, your intentions on where you want to go will lead you to Luce.”
“Was she, like… a Succubus or something?” I ask. It’s rhetorical—I don’t actually expect an answer.
When Amarah huffs, I raise a brow. “Because she’s pretty?”
I’m not about to admit I barely remember what Azahara looked like. Other than the blindingly bright red hair, I didn’t take in much. But if I say that, Amarah will probably think I’m lying.
“Not quite. I’m asking because how does she know so much about this place?”
She steps away from me, her hand sliding from my arm to my wrist as she pulls me along. The silence stretches, and for a second, I worry my answer wasn’t what she wanted to hear.
“Seems like she has a connection to a God, like I have with Vendra,” she finally whispers.
There are a few people scattered around this room—a place I’d easily classify as a doctor’s office waiting area.
No one pays us any attention, flipping through magazines or scrolling on cell phones.
Honestly, it’s strange. If I hadn’t just jumped straight through the gates to the Beyond, I’d swear I walked from Demour right back into Calysera.
“I trust her judgment on this. Guess that’s what matters.”
“And I trust you.”
She turns her head just enough to look at me over her shoulder. A soft pink dusts her cheeks as she smiles. “Thanks.”
The door we stop in front of is as plain as they come. It even has a sign on it that reads Have a good day. It feels wrong somehow. Like a joke. Or a setup.
Amarah pulls my hand toward the doorknob and steps aside. “Let’s get him and go. I don’t like it here.”
“I couldn’t agree more.”
A heavy breath escapes me, and for the first time, my heart starts to pick up. I’d been so consumed with Amarah’s safety that I hadn’t let the nerves of being this close to Lucifer settle.
What if, right behind this door, we end up in front of Belial because that’s where Luce is—right beside his father.
What if I face him and he really did leave me because he was done with me? And I’m a love-sick fool who chased him into the Beyond and dragged Amarah into danger for nothing?
What if he sees this as me going too far and tries to kill me and her?
My eyes drop to my little slayer, who is staring straight at the door. Her heartbeat is steady, but I can’t trust that alone any more than she can carry me.
No. I trust the bond instead. It hums with purpose. She wants this for me.
I won’t let myself think this is a mistake. The only thing I feel is regret for not coming sooner for him.
Like Kairhyse with Xeraphine, and she with him, I should’ve gone to him the moment he disappeared out of my life.
I twist the knob, and like before, we step into darkness.
The air feels lighter, something I hadn’t realized was different in the room we just left. Immediately, a familiar scent hits me. Rich wood, amber, leather, and a humid breeze. His scent is everywhere.
I don’t see him, but we’re definitely in his bedroom. Amarah’s footsteps sound behind me, and I glance at her before scanning the space again as the door closes on its own.
The room is a blend of darkness and opulence.
Very much a Lucifer kind of space. To our right is a grand, ornately carved four-poster canopy bed, its towering frame engraved with dark woodwork full of floral and infernal motifs.
Heavy black velvet curtains cascade down like shadows.
Fitting, really. The bedding is a mix of black lace and layered textures, and it’s unmade.
Very unlike him.
There are red candles flanking the bed, and when I turn slightly, I see Amarah moving toward them.
On the other side of the bed is a stained-glass window, filled with infernal imagery in deep reds, ambers, and golds. A silver light filters through, illuminating the artwork and casting enough of a glow that I know Amarah will be able to see.
“This room is… insane,” she murmurs, dragging her finger along the bedpost.
The rest of the furniture—a chest, a vanity, a dresser—is the same dark wood as the bed. A red-and-black rug lies beneath it all. It’s very him: clean, meticulous, deliberate. He was always obsessive about tidiness, which makes the unmade bed even stranger.
She moves around toward the window, and as I turn in the opposite direction, I notice a second door. I feel pulled toward it, reaching for the handle, just as it turns on its own.
My heart stops. Not metaphorically, but literally stops. Blood freezes in my veins, my skin turning cold enough to crack.
The door swings open, slowly at first, then violently as Lucifer bursts through and drives a fist toward my face—I’m capable of dodging, his hand-to-hand combat was never his specialty.
I catch his wrist, twist, spin him behind me, and force him down to his knees.
He dissolves into a cloud of shadows and reappears behind me almost instantly. Before he can get an arm around my neck, I duck, pivot, and wrap mine around his waist instead.
He lets out a grunt that turns into a sharp gasp when I shove him back against the dresser.
“Luce! It’s me! It’s Kayn!” I snap, my voice holding steadier than I feel.
His bright violet eyes lock onto mine, and the color swirls. The darkness on his skin retracts, his Vigoro pulling back to reveal the pale flesh I loved marking.
His chest expands with a sharp, trembling breath. “W-What?”
Hearing his voice restarts my heart like a blow to the chest.
“Kayn?”
I’m not someone who cries, but heat burns behind my eyes, and a painful ache blooms in my stomach at the sound of my name on his lips again.
I lean in closer to him, even as his hands press weakly at my shoulders in some half-hearted attempt to push me away.
One of my hands stays steady on him, gripping as though I fear he’ll just vanish again, while with the other, I drag my touch up the side of his neck. My fingers slide into his black, tousled hair and tighten there.
When I smile, a quiet, breathless laugh escapes me. “There you are, little deviant.”
“You can’t be here…” His jaw tenses, highlighting the sharp lines of that perfect fucking face. His jawline is strong, angular, with high, defined cheekbones. “Kayn, how are you here?”
I step back just enough to give him room to stand, and when he straightens, he has to tilt his head back to keep his eyes on mine. It’s impossible not to look at him—brooding brows, that regal nose—he is the definition of male perfection.
And I’ve fucking missed him.
It kills me, the way he looks at me, because it tells me he doesn’t feel the same.
“Can’t even say hi?” I slip back into my playful tone. “It’s been, what, four hundred years?”
His hands move to my chest now, pushing with actual strength behind them. I could counter it easily, but I don’t. I let him go and take a step back.
“How… Why are you—”
“Lucifer?”
It’s not that I forgot Amarah was here, my vision just tunneled to him. But when she says his name, everything snaps back into focus.
I cut a glance over my shoulder. My little slayer is trembling; her eyes blown out, pupils so small they’re swallowed by the indigo hue. She’s staring at him, really hard, and I have no idea why she looks like she’s seen a ghost.
Until he says, “Amarah? Is… is that you?”
Slowly, so fucking slowly, I turn back toward him. He’s staring at her with the same stunned expression.
“Luce… Luce… oh… my… Gods.” Amarah breathes out the words like a chant.
The room stops. Time itself stops. Everything suspends all at once as the reality settles in that I am not about to introduce these two to each other.
Lucifer’s gaze drifts between the two of us before it settles on my little slayer. His mouth parts, but nothing comes out. His double-edged fangs flash as he starts to speak and then stops himself.
When he finally finds his voice, he whispers, “What… are you doing here?”
“Lucifer. Luce. Godsdamn—how was I so stupid not to make that connection?!”
“Bloody Beyond, I hate that damn nickname.” His accent sounds thicker than before. “Did you open the gates for him? Isn’t that against your God’s code?”
“Yeah, alright, and you’re one to talk!”
Her footsteps tap softly across the floor as she closes the distance. She stops just far enough away that I can’t reach her, and I know she’s doing it on purpose.
“Don’t speak to me about codes or laws, Lucifer!”
Her voice breaks with pain at the end, and I don’t know whether I should look at her… or keep trying to understand what I’m seeing reflected in Lucifer’s eyes.
Those same eyes now filled with pain. And regret.
“I didn’t…” His chin drops as shame shadows his face. “I’m sorry—”
“It isn’t your fault, but don’t try to scold me for bringing your partner—”
“Ex…” he murmurs.
“Yeah, well, from the sound of it, that wasn’t established. You just up and left!”
“You know nothing of what happened—”
“Oh, don’t give me that.”
“Stop. STOP!” I roar. “Enough! How the fuck do you two know each other?”