Page 33 of Touched By Death

Her fingers slide from mine as an ocean opens up between us. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do.”

“I’ve been a bitch. I know tha—”

“I want to forget you,” she says again in a much firmer voice. “I want to step back through the door, travel back in time, and never set foot outside of the gates.”

“That’s nice,” Daemon drawls from the doorway, causing us both to snap our eyes in his direction. “Fucking nice.” His cold eyes find mine, and he jerks his chin. “Let’s go.”

He walks away, revealing Ronan and Alaric behind him, who stare at the angel with equally empty eyes. Ronan is the first one to leave. Alaric lingers, pinning her to the spot with his heavy gaze before he, too, strides off.

Aurelia says nothing—an emotionless statue. I want to shake some fucking sense into her. Instead, I swallow down the hurt and sidle past her. But before I leave the room, I place my hand on the doorframe and peer at her over my shoulder. “I don’t know what Daemon’s father did to him while he was locked away in Lucifer’s cellar for defending you. But he’ll find a way to break through whatever horrors battle it out in his mind. He loves you. And if you go back to Eden, he’ll break down the gates to take you back.”

“You’re wrong,” she calls out when I turn to leave. “I did leave through the door, and he never came for me. No one did. If I left again, no one would come for me.”

“Well…” With a deep inhale, I look at her. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe Daemon will do the right thing for once and grant you your wish. You want to forget us? Then you need to be okay with us forgetting you, too.”

I walk away, blinking back tears. Why the hell did I let myself fall for her? Why the hell did I let my defenses down? This is what I get for swallowing down my pride.

Chapter Twelve

AMENADIEL

Music pulses through the black-painted walls, the sultry bass loud enough to be felt in the worn floorboards beneath my leather Oxford shoes. Lucifer is seated at one of the tables toward the back, with a cigar and a glass of brandy. Watching the orgy on stage, he swirls his tumbler before kicking it back. In my periphery, naked bodies gyrate, grinding against each other in a symphony of moans and groans. His eyes find mine as I pull out a seat at his table. “I thought this place was beneath you.”

Unbuttoning my suit jacket, I remove it and drape it over the back of the chair. I set to work on the sleeves, rolling them up my arms. “Not at all, brother. Though I prefer to partake rather than watch.”

Humming under his breath, he sips his brandy. As I sit down, he flicks the ash into a tray on the table. “What brings you here?”

A busty angel—dressed in a gold thong, with small raven wings dusted in sparkles—saunters up to us with a tray. Placing a tumbler in front of me, she fills it up with an amber liquid. Her tits are dangerously close to my face, but I’m bored for once. While her breasts are more than a handful, her wings are tiny compared to a certain little angel’s.

“We need to talk.”

With a tilt of his chin, he sends the female angel walking before pinning me with his obsidian eyes that are so dark, I sometimes wonder if there was ever a hint of light behind them. But his feathers were once white, and his skin used to shimmer.

Even so, Lucifer is one with the shadows that cling to his skin like a swirling mist.

Cigar smoke curls in the air while he watches me with a bored expression that I’ve seen many times before. After putting the cigar out in the tray, he relaxes back against the leather booth and gestures lazily for me to go on.

My attention strays to the stage, where a pile of bodies writhes in time to the sultry beat—men fucking women, and men fucking men. “Genesis is back.”

Lucifer pauses with the tumbler halfway to his mouth, growing eerily still.

“Let’s just say she holds a grudge.”

Lowering his tumbler to the table, he opens his mouth to speak, then snaps it shut again. Spinning the glass, he chuckles darkly. “After all this time, you still manage to surprise me. I thought I had you figured out by now, but here you are, making me laugh.”

“I’m being fucking serious.”

He nods, looking up from beneath his dark lashes, with a slight smirk. “Tell me then, brother. Where is she? I don’t see her around.”

“She’s hiding… inside the angel.”

Not a single reaction flicks across his face as he studies me. The moans on the stage behind me escalate. He hikes his elbow up on the back of the leather booth and flashes one of his famous smiles that showcases his fangs and dimples. “You’re losing it, brother. Old age is finally catching up with you.”

Gritting my teeth, I look away, watching the angel behind the bar wipe down the sticky counter.

“She’s hiding inside the angel, huh? How exactly is she doing that?”

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