“Good to know, but no. It’s far better.”
Please tell me it’s something sexual.Maybe my present is copious amounts of orgasms and him bringing me so close to the edge that I break, begging for him. He stills next to me, pushing my hair off my shoulder so that it spills down my back.
Lucifer’s touch is like nothing I’ve ever experienced. It’s all-consuming as he looks down at me and smiles.
“Maybe some of that later, but this present can’t wait.”
I blink up at him a few times, my mouth falls open before quickly closing again. “How?”
“How could I not know when my soulmate wants me? Now, come on.” He lets out a small laugh at the end, and I swear I nearly expire on the spot.
All thoughts of arousal fade to the background as he portals us to the pit. I’m facing a wall where Toth is standing with his arms crossed.
“That will be all, Toth,” Lucifer says to him with a nod. His right-hand nods back, giving me a half smile and walking out the door. When Lucifer grabs my shoulders and spins me around, I swear my heart stops beating.
Beelzebub sits before me, his lip bleeding, and he’s tied to a chair. His eyes are wide as he looks at me and then to Lucifer.
His touch is gentle on my shoulders and the curve of my neck. It’s a unique feeling having a man fulfill all the promises he made to me. This was the final one. The thing I needed for closure.
Not that a piece of Diana won’t live with me forever. But to make sense of her death and to get revenge against the people who harmed her will make that piece hurt less. Lucifer already killed the angels who tainted her mind, and now I get to hurt the man who took away her afterlife.
“Are you pleased?” Lucifer asks against my ear, and I nod my head, just staring at this gift before me.
“How is he here?”
I can feel his lips near the shell of my ear. “Your friend Kas may have something to do with it.”
I smile, and Beelzebub winces. “I didn’t know she was your sister,” he whines, and I shake my head.
Lucifer’s hand glides down my arm, and I miss the feeling of his flesh on mine until he hands me my dagger. I don’t have to look down to know it’s mine. Its weight and the feel of the handle are ingrained in me at this point.
His palm is wrapped around mine until he lets go. “Give ’em hell, love.” He steps away, and I turn to watch him. He casually props his large frame against the wall, just watching me.
It hits me then that I’ve found someone who truly accepts me and that nothing I can do will scare him. I can be authentically me, and Lucifer won’t think I’m a monster or a bad person. If anything, he embraces this side of me that I’ve always hid away from. I bite my lip, and he nods at me, giving me his blessing.
Encouraging my darkness.
I smile at Lucifer before pushing my shoulders back and looking down at Beelzebub. He’s such an unfortunate demon. His hair is thin and balding, his eyes are beady and filled with deceit. But right now, I watch as his whole body tenses, and I truly can’t wait to make him suffer.
Looking down at the dagger, I remember what Lucifer said about magical weapons and how each possesses different abilities.
“It won’t kill him?” I ask, not looking at Lucifer.
“Just for the evening. Then he will reanimate tomorrow.”
“Hear that, rat? It’s going to be a long eternity for you and me.”
“My lord, I didn’t mean it. Please forgive me. I made a mistake. I’ll do whatever you wish.”
I take two steps forward, my heels clicking loudly against the cement floor as I stand before the demon who took my sister’s life.
“He’s not the one you should be begging,” I tell him, and his gaze travels from my face to Lucifer’s in the corner.
“My lord?”
“You heard her,” he replies, and I have to shake off just how attractive that was to me. I look back to the demon in question, and his terror is palpable. I feed off his fear, it excites me. He should fear me. There’s no holding back, this isn’t just my violent heart seeking a sacrifice. This is years of pent-up and unsatisfied retribution, years lost to grief and guilt. Beelzebub feels like the symbol of everything that has been hurting me these past years.
“Where should we start?”
