Page 129 of She Who Holds My Wrath

“Daze?” Ezra says softly, his burnt orange freckles stark against skin that’s gone too pale, green eyes wide with confusion and hurt. “What’s wrong?”

My throat is desert dry “You…” I swallow hard. “You feel wrong, Ez.”

His face falls for a second before he tries to school it, his sharp jaw tightening.

Lucifer groans dramatically and throws himself onto my bed like he owns the place. He sprawls out with his back resting against the headboard, one leg crossed over the other, acting entirely bored with this reunion. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him like this. No polished, untouchable perfection. Just loose black trousers hanging low on his hips and a soft dark maroon cotton shirt, his dark hair mussed like someone had been tugging at it recently.

When he catches me looking, he grins. “I was summoned just after fucking the life out of the Shadowtongue,” he says casually, winking with a menacing look on his face. “Terrible timing, honestly.”

A startled laugh escapes me despite everything. It bubbles up, obnoxiously loud and hysterical, half-stress, half-disbelief. And then awareness hits me hard. I’m wearing Korithax’s shirt and nothing else. Bare legs with no panties. And Korithax is standing beside me in nothing but boxers and a murderous expression.

Lucifer’s gaze flicks between us, delight brightening his crimson eyes. “I see someone else is freshly fucked. Good job on not killing her, Kori.”

Korithax doesn’t reply. Instead, he grips my wrist and drags me towards the closet.

“What are you doing?” I hiss, stumbling after him.

“You don’t have any fucking panties on,” he mutters, already rummaging through drawers with aggressive purpose. “And I know that fucker has been trying to rope you into a threesome.”

I laugh so hard it turns into a cough. “I promise you, I’d rather be in Kaelith’s dungeon again.”

Pain flashes across Korithax’s face, his hand stilling and shoulders locking, instantly making me regret my words. “Gods,” I rush. “Korithax, I’m sorry. Humour, it’s⁠—”

“A coping mechanism,” he says stiffly, not looking at me. “I know.” He shoves a pair of panties into my hands. “It’s just not how I deal with things.”

“Yeah,” Lucifer calls from the bedroom. “You prefer trying to strangle people to death instead, asshole.”

There’s a beat of silence. Then to my immense relief, the corner of Korithax’s mouth twitches. It’s small. Barely there. But it’s enough to loosen the guilt from my chest just a fraction.

When we step back into the room, dressed and marginally more presentable, Ezra is still standing near the door, gnawing nervously at his thumb with a deep frown set between his auburn brows. Lucifer, meanwhile, looks far too comfortable lounging on my bed.

“Great, now I have to burn those sheets,” I mutter.

“Oh, please. You’ll be sniffing them the second I leave.” Lucifer grins, all bright white teeth and menace.

I don’t even bother looking at him. Instead, I flick my wrist, a sharp line of white flame following to race across the sheets. Lucifer yelps and launches himself off the mattress, barely avoiding the sparks as they snap and hiss across the fabric. I giggle under my breath, deeply satisfied.

“He’s rubbing off on you, bitch,” he mutters, wiping out the creases from his shirt with wounded dignity.

I finally turn to Ezra, though I still can’t make myself cross the distance between us.

“Daisy, I swear,” he says, hands lifting a little in surrender. “I’m not a threat to you. Never.”

His green eyes shimmer with hurt and confusion, making my heart ache for him. I take him in properly. Since the last time I saw him, some of his spark has returned. Faint glitter dusts his eyelids like stardust. His bright ginger hair has grown long enough to be twisted into a thick, messy bun high on his head, loose strands curling around his beautiful face. He’s wearing colour again too—the jacket I made him for Christmas last year, bright and loud and very Ezra.

“I know,” I whisper. And I do know. Gods, I do. But something is seriously… off.

“Oh yeah, about that,” Lucifer cuts in, brushing invisible lint from himself. “He summoned me. And I’ll give credit where it’s due, he used every trick in the book. That call was strong enough I couldn’t have ignored it if I wanted to.”

Ezra beams like he’s proud of himself. It’s so purely him that a reluctant smile tugs at my mouth.

“When I arrived,” Lucifer continues, and his tone shifts into something I’m not used to hearing from him—seriousness. “I knew something was off immediately. Luckily, for my little pony over there, I recognised him.” His eyes slide to Ezra “Otherwise, I’d have snapped his neck before he could blink.”

My stomach twists as an image of him doing just that flashes through my brain unbidden.

“Tell her,” Lucifer says. “She deserves to hear it from you.”

Ezra swallows hard, refusing to meet my eyes. “I was at home,” he says quietly. “In my kitchen. Just... normal. Everything was normal.”