Page 8 of Touched By Death

I’m stiff behind her, arms banded around her slim waist. “Soon after we arrived back here.”

“You didn’t throw me to the darkness to get back at Daemon…”

Staring at the flames, I remain silent, not yet ready to admit the truth or the secrets I keep hidden from the world. She sees them anyway, her sweet voice drifting through the haze of my thoughts.

“You were trying to lure her from the shadows.”

“Genesis is dead.” My voice crackles as much as the flames dancing closer on the floor.

She slowly turns around in my arms, and I’m suddenly very aware of how warm she is from the flickering flames; how small and fragile she seems. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I had no solid proof.”

“I don’t believe you.”

My throat jumps, but I stay silent.

“You’re ashamed to admit you have feelings other than those born from the darkness in you.”

The flames flicker in her eyes when I finally look at her, my throat bobbing on a swallow. “You need to be careful. The past needs to remain in the past.”

“But how can it when you keep coaxing it to the surface? Tell me, Amenadiel, do you like playing with fire?” She pushes up on her tiptoes and walks her fingers up my chest, over the fabric of my shirt, caressing each button. “It looks like the past caught up with you and your brother.” Her sweet breath fans the stubble on my chin. “Genesis is back, Amenadiel. The missing original.”

Heart thrashing in my chest, my gaze scans over her ethereal face. I step back, clearing my throat. It’s not her. She died. “Why did time not reset when you returned to Eden?”

“You’re asking the questions now?” She huffs a mocking laugh. “Trust you to focus on the unimportant details.”

“You went back. You should have reset the timeline.”

“Or maybe evil cares less about timelines and more about seeking revenge?”

I grow still, not daring to breathe. “Genesis?” Is it really her? It can’t be, can it? Yet, when she looks at me…

Behind us, the flames grow taller, flickering wildly, until she puts them out with an effortless click of her fingers. She motions to the scene in front of us, the shocked and worried looks on Daemon’s and his friend’s frozen faces. “Now, if you excuse me, Amenadiel. I have a mess to create.”

And with another click of her finger, time rewinds before I can stop it.

Before I can stop her.

AURELIA

“Why is it that the longer I watch you, the more familiar you seem?”

I stay silent, acutely aware of the shift in the air when Lucifer starts to circle me. A blind person could sense the crackling tension in the air.

Dariana tries to break it. “It’s nice to have you back, Lucifer. You’ve been gone for a while.”

His eyes remain laser sharp, focused entirely on me as if he’s peeling me like the layers of an onion. “What is your intention with my son?”

My eyes automatically find Daemon, who remains a statue. I remember this from last time. He barely moves when his father is around. “Intention?”

Lucifer stops in front of me and buries his hands deep in his pants pockets. His shirt stretches tight across his shoulders, and his dark hair is styled back. “Yes, intention. You’re not marrying my son.”

My eyes pop wide open as my heart takes flight. “Who said anything about marriage?”

“Oh,” he hums. “So you admit my son is nothing more than a fling?”

I’m so confused. Shifting on the spot, I open and close my mouth in search of the right words.

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