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I cut off with a gasp as Lucifer appears. My racing heart stutters in my chest.
He’s here.
I want to say something, but the look on his face stops me. He’s furious, stone-faced and silent. Glancing back at Cephalus, I see that he’s as pleased as Lucifer is pissed.
Am I about to be executed?
“Fortunately for you, my son appears to agree with your assessment,” Cephalus says. “You’ll be pleased to know that he has conceded to my terms of your release. You are free to leave this cell. You will, of course, be remaining in Hell along with my son, who has accepted my offer to re-assume his position at the head of my armies.”
Oh, no.No, he couldn’t have. Could he? I watch his face darken, his rage aimed at his father like a laser. A deep sense of doom and dismay sucks at my core and for an instant I want to decline, to make them take the deal back. I can’t even imagine what’s going to happen now, but I can’t believe that it’s going to be anything good.
But then Cephalus rattles some keys and the door is open and I don’t have the strength to stay in this tiny, dirty, dank little cell for another moment. I hurry out, the pressure of the decision—a decision which was made apart from me, far over my head—weighing me down with every step. Lucifer and Cephalus both move to give me space.
I want to go to Lucifer, to wrap my arms around him and take my claim in comfort I’ve been longing for, but Cephalus is watching with sharp, dark eyes and Lucifer is a wall. Cephalus already knows how I feel about Lucifer, and vice versa, or this scheme never would have crossed his mind, but the last thing I want to do is give him any more ammunition or confirmation. Even thinking about touching him almost feels like my signing off on this whole deal, which I definitely don’t want to do. But I’m so glad to see him, so relieved to be out of the cell that I almost want to cry. It’s too much. It’s all too much.
So I keep my hands to myself and follow Lucifer down the long hall. Cephalus is walking behind us, and then he’s not. I didn’t see any passages or doorways leading off this hall, but somehow he managed to disappear. That doesn’t make me feel any safer. If anything, it makes me wonder if he could be hovering somewhere, listening in.
The distant screams and other chaotic noises get louder as we reach the staircase. Lucifer puts his body between me and the source of the sounds, which come from somewhere on the other side of that wall, as if trying to block them out. But I can hear more clearly than I could in my cell, and I can tell that while some of the screams are cries of pain and terror, others are pleasure and excitement. Just what exactly goes on in this place, anyway?
I guess I’ll have time to figure it out. According to Cephalus, I’m going to be stuck here. But for how long?
We climb an intricately carved winding staircase past floors of chaos. It’s an opulent place, all rich, polished woods and precious stones and metals. At least they look precious, they aren’t Earthly stones, although they seem similar. Studying the details of my surroundings only keeps the tumble of conflicting emotions at bay until we’re behind a heavy, closed door in a massive, richly furnished room. The mural on the ceiling is so far away it almost looks like real clouds in red and gold. Lucifer locks the door, and he doesn’t move to touch me. I wonder if he resents me for being vulnerable enough to put him in this position. If he rescued me only to cut me away from his heart.
“You shouldn’t have done this,” I tell him. “It’s exactly what Cephalus wanted you to do. He has some big scheme planned, and he thinks I’m the key to it—or you through me, I think. He can’t be trusted.”
Lucifer says nothing, still ice cold and just as hard to hold. His silence slices my heart like rejection and tears well up in my eyes.
“You should have left me there,” I whisper. “You never wanted to get sucked back into this endless war, and now—”
His icy veneer breaks and he whirls to me, pinning me to the wall. All the emotion that he’s been holding back rolls off him, vibrating the air between us. His eyes burn, the amber ring a golden circle of flame.
“How could you think I wouldn’t come for you?” He growls, his voice shaking, a barely contained shout putting pressure on every syllable. “That I wouldn’t do anything for you?”
His kiss steals my breath, bruising my lips with its intensity. I have no idea how long that it’s really been since I got to Hell, but it feels like an eternity since I last felt his lips on mine. It’s surreal, so much so that I’m stunned for a moment. Drawing back, I look deep into his amber eyes and feel some of the numbness inside myself melt away.
This is real. He’s here with me.
My lips crash into his, and our tongues tangle with one another. I can’t tell if desire, relief, or another feeling that I can’t put into words is the strongest emotion in me… but I’m overflowing with it all. Every kiss and touch is charged with the emotions swelling up in my chest.
Lucifer’s fingers dig into my hair, pulling at my roots to keep me even closer.
He hikes my leg up, pinning it to the side as he grinds against me. Moans escape my throat as my body responds eagerly to each sensation. Everything that’s happened starts to melt away, and the only thing left that matters is this moment here with him.
But then his lips leave mine.
My eyes flutter open, my brow pinching with worry as I see the way he’s looking at me. It’s not with longing or passion, but a tender sort of scrutiny; not judgement, but analysis. Suddenly, I’m aware of the oil in my hair, the sweat still clinging to my skin, and all the other indications of my time spent in the cell.
“Sorry,” I mutter, my cheeks flushing. “I know I look a bit rough around the edges right n—”
Before I can get out the rest of my thought, Lucifer cuts me off, his eyes narrowing.
“I don’t give a fuck about that,” he tells me quietly.
And yet he’s still looking me over closely, making my skin burn hotter.
“What is it, then?” I ask, clearing my throat.
As I speak, I notice how tense his jaw is, as though he’s keeping it clamped shut against all the words he doesn’t want to utter. His hand reaches up to skate down the side of my face, his eyes burning with an intensity I don’t think I’ve ever seen before. He’s always been intense, and he’s shown concern for me before. This is different though.Deeper, somehow.
