“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 takenan 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.
