Chapter 9
A familiar tune rode in on an icy wind, skating down the column of my neck and tickling my collar bone before pulling me from the depths of memory.
I groaned as I roused, my body feeling like it had been put through a meat grinder and then pieced back together on a grill. Killing was hard on a girl.
I wiggled my numb, frozen toes that still hung off the bed, and wiped at the massive string of drool strung across my cheek. When I tried to sit up, tiny daggers embedded into my skin through the towel.
“Jesus,” I groaned. “Get off of me.”
Unsurprisingly, he didn’t listen.
“You’re quite hideous when you wake, you know.”
I froze, blinked the coma crust away from my eyes, and tried not to shiver against the ice that had started to cling to my heated skin. Maybe if I ignored him hard enough he’d go away.
Lucifer continued to hum his tune somewhere to my left. A tune that, after crawling back to the land of the living, made me shove up onto all fours, scaring Jesus into a screech of fury as I searched for the intruder in my bedroom.
“Are you singing Purple Rain?”
I honed in on the massive presence suffocating the room. He made the air feel thicker, charged with an electricity that shrunk the room to where it felt like it couldn’t hold us both. It was an awareness that made my skin tingle.
“Lucifer?” I moved slowly, sitting back on my ankles so as not to cause the sparks to ignite and consume us both.
Red light filtered in through my blinds from the stoplights below. In the corner, narrowed eyes glowed like blood diamonds in the dark.
The king of Hell sat in the lounge chair next to my bed with one leg crossed elegantly over the other as if he were sitting on a throne. He continued humming as the weight of his gaze pressed against me, flowing from the bridge into the chorus that made Prince famous.
The sight of him in my room was a heady euphoria that muddled my brain beyond comprehension, stirring a primal sort of need inside that made me want to crawl onto his lap and become the definition of obedient.
That thought, however, snapped his hold over me like a rubber band.
Obedience was never in my repertoire, and I’d be damned if it started now.
“Oh my god!” I exclaimed a little too excited to cover my lapse in bad-bitch fortitude. “You were singing Prince! Oh, Luci.” My deep throated giggle resonated between us. “You literally never cease to amaze me. Who knew you were such a romantic?”
“You test the limits of my patience so recklessly, Dany,” he tisked.
I crawled toward the edge of the bed thinking that maybe if I could convince him I was unfazed by his presence, I’d convince myself too. “Did Prince go to hell?” I gasped a little too enthusiastically.
Yeah, I scoffed and slapped my proverbial forehead at my poor performance. Now he’s really convinced you don’t have a lady boner. Fucking idiot.
Jesus took that moment to jump into his lap and purred as Lucifer stroked his back.
My suspicions of the cat grew. Traitor.
Not only that, but I was maybe a little jealous of him. I watched Lucifer’s long, languid strokes against the cat’s back and, as an icy shiver erupted along my spine, could almost swear I could feel his musician’s expert touch on my own skin.
“All of the greats go to Hell, Dany,” he answered in a voice as smooth and alluring as a Siren’s. “You should know that.”
I pulled my attention away from his hands just in time to meet his pointed, accusatory gaze. Or maybe, it was less accusing and more… laudatory?
Only one way to find out.
“Luci, was that a compliment?” I swung my legs off the side of the bed and leaned forward. “Is God’s favorite angel singing my praises straight from the hymnal? Utter blasphemy.”
I smirked, ready to continue my assault, but something in the fiery pits of his eyes made the words die on my lips. His hand stilled on Jesus’ back and every graceful line of his body was frozen like I was staring at a painting of a man rather than the man himself.
It was then that the chill in the air brushed against my belly. I swallowed, goosebumps pimpling down my skin where the towel had fallen open.
Every. Single. Inch.
Exposed.
Lucifer looked like he could devour each one of them. I was tempting sin in the flesh, and goddamn if it didn’t feel intoxicating. Satan was sitting in front of me and, whatever he saw, he liked it.
My hands flew to the edges of the towel, cheeks blazing as I tried to recover whatever dignity still lived between us.
“Stop,” he ordered, and my muscles seized, no longer acting under my will. “Leave it.” His voice was low and even. Perhaps, a little too even.
“What are you doing?” I asked breathlessly.
He didn’t answer immediately.
Lucifer’s eyes trailed over the dips above my collarbones. My heart was pounding, quickening with my shallow breaths. Could he see evidence of the impact his gaze had on me?
I tried and failed again to close the towel. “Lucifer,” I ground out.
“There is an interesting array of items on your bedside, Dany.”
Irritation set my teeth on edge. He was holding me captive, exposing my nakedness for entertainment, and dared bring up Joe’s gift?
I cut my eyes to the pink box.
“What’s interesting, Luci, is that you think mace falls under that category.” My heart jackhammered, adrenaline lighting up every fiber of muscle that I still couldn’t move.
What was more interesting, was… why?
Why was he here? In all of the years I’d been collecting souls, he’d never taken an interest in my personal life.
He didn’t sit in my room. He didn’t make me bare unless he wanted to see if I’d shiver.
So why paw through my nightstand like a jealous boyfriend?
Why care who I fuck now, after years of not asking?
Was it the note? The chain? Or the fact that it was a nice guy who had taken enough interest to give it to me?
If this was jealousy, it was a tell. If it was possession…
I couldn’t even fathom the consequences.
Anger flared because the answer scared me, and because a traitorous slice of me liked that he cared enough to flip his own script. I couldn’t lift a finger, but I could still bite.
If he wanted a reaction, I’d choose which one.
His smirk was so small that, had I not been able to take my eyes off of him, I may have missed it.
“Get on your knees.”
Everything stopped— my too shallow breaths, the fine tremble in my limbs, perhaps even time.
“Lucifer fucking Morningstar,” I growled in warning even as my body obeyed his command. This wasn’t the first time he’d compelled me. In fact, he did a lot, toying with me like he was a bored cat with a mouse.
The difference tonight, though, was that he didn't look at my eyes.
His gaze licked up my naked flesh, making sure each motion was like a private strip tease just for him.
My hands pushed the towel away of their own volition. I forced every ounce of vitriol I could muster through my stare. Anger for what he was doing to me, but worse…
The rage I felt for liking it.
My fingers gripped the edge of the bed as I slowly lowered myself to the floor. Plush carpet cushioned my knees and shins when I was finally seated, positioned like a faithful servant before the greatest fallen angel in history.
When his eyes finally met mine, we stared at each other for what felt like eternity. His darkened gaze trained with such intensity it made my skin burn, the pricks sensual like drops of wax landing everywhere his eyes had been.
A chill swept the room. It brushed my skin with sensuous intent, peaking my nipples for his pleasure. And, if I was being honest with myself…
Mine.
It was like the chill left behind after a lover’s tongue stroked the needy skin and blew a teasing breath. I couldn’t stop the traitorous moan.
“Crawl to me, dearest Dany,” Lucifer purred. His fingers tightened ever so slightly on the chair, but it was hard to focus on anything other than the command in his voice.
How could he be so unaffected when everything in my life had fallen away to cater to him in this moment?
“What are you doing?” I whispered as my hands landed on the floor. Adrenaline fired on all cylinders, fueling the silent protest my mind was screaming alongside the attention my body was begging for.
Serpentine eyes followed my trek across the floor. His influence made sure it was agonizingly slow, giving him time to appreciate every flex of muscle as I moved. It felt like there was no oxygen in the air between us.
When I got close enough to touch, he uncrossed his legs, and I waited breathlessly on all fours at the Devil’s feet.
Lucifer raised one hand to his chin, his elbow propped nonchalantly on the arm of the chair. With the other, he beckoned me closer. An invitation. A demand.
I should be screaming at him, I thought. Throwing insults and fighting against his hold with every fiber of strength I could rally.
I should hate him.
I didn’t, though. Christ on a cross, I didn’t hate him.
My lips trembled as I crawled forward and filled the space between his legs. The next few moments were like a fever dream.
Though his hands never moved, I could feel the brush of icy fingers along my exposed flesh. They coaxed me back onto my legs, parting my knees and running up the line between my shoulder blades until my breasts were pushed outward on full display.
There was no shame in his hungry stare. Lucifer cataloged me, unhurried, as if time bent for him and I was the only exhibit worth seeing.
Do you like what you see? I wanted to ask. Touch me, a traitorous thought whispered.
Just once, I wanted the cold of his fingers because he wanted me, not because my body obeyed his every command.
His right hand lifted, and my reaction was completely my own–chin up, breath held, already feeling where he might land first: the hollow at my throat, the line of my jaw, the valley between my breasts.
Just as I thought he was going to touch me, a delicate silver chain slipped between his fingertips.
Bits of silver glinted off the moonlight pouring from my balcony window. When I saw the bat dangling from the end, my heart stopped.
“It wasn’t the mace I found interesting, Dany,” he said casually. “It was this.”
A wave of emotion rushed through me. The exhilaration was replaced with disorientation, taking effort to remember what we’d been talking about before he tried to ruin me.
The box. The mace.
Joe’s gift.
Why did he care about the necklace? Did he see the note? Would he hurt Joe? I’d fucked plenty of men since our deal, so why would Joe be any different?
I couldn’t bring myself to ask any of those questions, however.
I licked my lips, a nervous gesture I’d never been able to kill, and answered, “It’s nothing. Just some stupid gift from a stalker.”
For a fraction of a second, something slipped in the nonchalance he projected. His nose twitched as if preparing to pull his lip up for a sneer. As quickly as it had appeared, though, it was gone.
Had I just imagined it?
Lucifer pulled Joe’s note from his lap and tossed its charred remains on the floor between us.
Jealousy, my subconscious whispered, but rationality sang a different tune. Distracted, it said. He thinks you’re distracted from his bargain, and the Devil always gets what he’s due.
“Tell me, dearest Dany. Do you think he’s different?”
“What?” I shook my head a little too enthusiastically. “No, I– ”
“Do not lie to me. I can hear it in the flutter of your pulse. I see the way your eyes dart toward the charm when you think I’m not watching.” I felt like he was scolding me, but the easy tone of his voice never changed. “Do you think he’s different?”
I gulped, searching for an answer I wasn’t sure I had. Did I think Joe was different? I never felt disgust sour my stomach when he was near. Joe was funny and didn’t hesitate to put himself between me and harm. While the gift should have come off as creepy, it hadn’t. I found it to be… endearing.
I don’t know what came over me when I answered him. A death wish, probably.
“I think that he could be different. People can be capable of good, can’t they?”
“Are you asking me to prove a point?” Lucifer titled his head and eyed me contemplatively. “Or are you seeking confirmation that you may not end up hurt at the end?”
Yes? No? Both?
For the first time in my life, I was speechless.
The tension in my muscles disappeared as if he’d never had me in a chokehold. I fell back with a flood of relief and scurried backward, snatching the towel to cover my nakedness from his scrutiny.
“I hate it when you do that,” I growled, teeth bared and sneer in place.
“I love it when you pray at my feet,” he countered as he stood. A puff of smoke was the only warning I got before Joe’s note went up in flames between us.
A pang of hurt struck my chest as I watched it burn. “Fuck you, Luci,” I spat.
“In due time, dearest Dany.”