Not wanting our first encounter to be awkward, I immediately grab a blanket and tuck it around her body. She doesn’t stir, and I’m not sure how long it will take her to wake up. I’ve never turned a soul this fresh into a demon before.
I want to hold her as she makes the transition, but I don’t know how she would handle my touch when she comes to. So I sit at my desk and drink. I drink, I stare, and I wait.
Her chest rises and falls under the blanket while every scenario runs through my head. Will she know immediately that she’s mine once she wakes up? Will she be thrilled to no longer be held by mortal customs? Will she be grief-stricken over her twin?
I swirl the whiskey in the glass, intermittently looking at the amber liquid and the pools of golden hair lying on my couch. Rubbing my chest from excitement and fear, I haven’t felt this alive in—I don’t even know how long.
She stirs, and I immediately put the crystal glass on top of the desk as I watch her blink open her beautiful blue eyes. She stares at the ceiling for a few moments before clutching the blanket and sitting upright. The bare skin of her side catches my attention as she sits up, and I try to not stare.
“Who the fuck are you, and where am I?” she asks. I swallow, not having been spoken to like that in—well, ever. I insight fear and loyalty; if someone is out of line, it’s not to my face.
“Lilith,” I say in a tone that is far more aggressive than I intended. She narrows her eyes at me, and as adorable as it is, I feel frustrated. I don’t know if I expected immediate recognition of what I am to her, but it’s clear that that’s not what I’m getting from her.
“Did you do something to me?”
I stare right back at her. “What do you remember?” I don’t even answer her question because where would I even start? I didn’t take advantage of her, but I have turned her into something else entirely than what she was a few hours ago. Something I should have done centuries ago, and all I’ve done is suffer from that choice since. When I look at her and see how confused she is, I realize that my idea of her remembering anything is all for naught. Of course, they are. I sigh in frustration and look at her, waiting for her to speak.
She glares at me, and I can see the gears in her head turning. It must hit her then. “My sister,” she says softly. I pick up the whiskey glass and down the rest of the liquid. It doesn’t even burn anymore when I drink, I miss that feeling. “She’s dead?”
“You both are.”
She looks around the room. “Where’s Diana? I want to see her.”
I sigh and stand. Lilith’s gaze tracks me, and when I stand to my full height, her eyes widen. I know that my presence can be intimidating, and I considered altering my appearance, but I wanted her to see the true me during our first meeting.
“Diana is in Heaven,” I try to say gently, but she winces at my deep tenor.
“So that means I’m…”
“In Hell,” I finish her sentence.
“I’m in Hell, and you’re what?” she scoffs. “The Devil?”
I keep my eyes fixated on hers. “I believe that’s one of the terms mortals use for me. I’d prefer for you to call me Lucifer, however.” Or sir, or any number of delicious things.
She laughs, full-out laughs so hard that she can barely hold onto the blanket covering her chest. “This is great. Great joke. Where’s Diana, and can I go home now?” She looks around the room, and my patience grows thin. It’s like she doesn’t feel the same bond that I do.
“Lilith, you’re dead. You’re in Hell, and you’re—”
“I’m not,” she denies as she stands up, the red material pooling around her body as she stands. Her head reaches my chest, and she looks up at me defiantly. “Take me to Diana, now.”
I look down at her in frustration, this was not the initial meeting I had planned. “I’m sorry, but you can’t see her.”
She holds onto the blanket with one hand and shoves at my chest with the other. “Listen here, you big motherfucker. Take me to see my sister right now.” Her blue eyes look glossy as she pushes her small little hand against me. No doubt she’s stronger now as a demon than she ever was as a human. She must notice her strength at some point as she pulls away her hand and inspects it.
“Where… where’s my scar?” she asks, looking at her hand and then back up at me. She pulls her leg out and looks at her ankle. “And my tattoo.”
“I didn’t know about those, I tried to make you look the same,” I say, but she just blinks owlishly at me.
“This… this can’t be real. You die, and that’s it. There’s no Heaven or Hell.”
“There is, and you’re here with me in Hell.”
She blinks at me a few more times. “Am I going to be tortured for all eternity?” she asks.
“No.” I would never hurt her, but I guess she wouldn’t automatically know that.
“Why not?” she asks, as if she believes that’s what she deserves.
