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 mynipples 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 thoughtwhispered.
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.
