Page 35 of Touched By Death

“You need to relax,” he drawls, caressing the girl’s tits while I roll down my sleeves. “Genesis is dead. I should know—I killed her.”

With a snort and a shake of my head, I shrug into the jacket. It stretches tight over my shoulders as I button it up with one hand and throw back the drink with the other. “She’s back, and she’ll kill you in your sleep if you’re not careful.”

He pauses. “Is that concern I hear? Why would you warn me? Wouldn’t it suit your little agenda if the angel kills me?”

My brother has a point, and I have no fucking clue why I came here to warn him. But what he doesn’t know is that we’re all in danger.

Maybe I just wanted to see his reaction to the news. Truth is, Genesis’s death still plays on my mind centuries later.

Lucifer gives nothing away, though. His face remains a blank, bored mask while he pats the girl’s ass in a silent demand for her to get up. As she rises to her feet and sidles out from the booth, he says, “Are you sure I can’t entice you to share some young pussy? You look a little tense.”

Sneering at him, I walk off, calling out over my shoulder, “I see nothing has changed. I don’t even know why I came here.”

Chapter Thirteen

AURELIA

Ankles crossed in the air, I look up from the textbook in front of me when there’s a knock on the door. Dmitriy pokes his head through, spots me sprawled on the bed, and clears his throat. “Mind if I come in?”

Removing the half-chewed rubber end of my pen from my mouth, I shoot him a small smile in response. “It’s fine.”

The hinges creak as he opens the door further and enters my room before closing it behind him without taking his eyes off me. His dark hair is wet from a recent shower, and his dark gray T-shirt is damp at the collar. He points at my textbook. “What are you studying?”

I’m back to chewing on my pen while I watch his approach, the way his muscles bunch beneath the cotton fabric. “I have a hellfire exam this week.”

“Practical?”

“Written and practical.” I’ve spent the last three days with my head buried in books, learning everything I can. It’s the only way I can distract myself from the maelstrom of thoughts in my head. No matter how much I try, I can’t erase the look on Daemon’s face when I told Dariana that I wish I could forget them, or the disappointment in Alaric’s dark gaze before he followed Daemon. Worse yet, Dariana’s words. “You want to forget us? Then you need to be okay with us forgetting you, too.”

The words play on repeat in my head until I wish I could claw my brain into pieces to erase those words. Fuck, I hate myself. I hate my heart even more for the yearning tugging at my soul. They lied to me about everything, and I can’t move past the hurt I feel.

I shake off those thoughts when the mattress dips.

“Are you okay?”

“I will be when I pass this test,” I mutter, feeling strangely vulnerable. Sympathy is the last thing I want or need right now.

“You know you’ll knock the test out of the ballpark, right?”

His heady cologne tickles my nostrils when I shut the book and sit up. I scan my eyes over him and curse myself for checking him out, yet he reminds me so much of Daemon. The ache in my chest can’t unsee the similarities. Some weird, corrupted part of me wants a taste of him, if only to put a plaster over the festering wound left behind from the other night. “What makes you so sure?” I ask, eyes lingering on a stray drop of shower water on his neck, near his collarbone. I want to lick it away.

“Because,” he replies, wetting his lips before gesturing to my wings. “You’re the most powerful female angel around. Who else can burn down pubs with a thought command?”

Frowning, I flick my gaze to his face. “You think I’m powerful?”

He snorts at that and laughs lightly. When he looks at me again, the darkness inside me stirs, caressing the fringes of my consciousness with delicious, depraved intent, and I flinch.

Dmitriy doesn’t notice, shrugging his shoulders. “It’s obvious.”

My interest is piqued by the slightly impish look on his face, as though he’s embarrassed. “Why are you here?”

“My father asked me to check on you. You’ve barely left your room for the last three days.”

My brows fly up. “Amenadiel asked you to check on me?”

His soft nod makes me laugh under my breath. Amenadiel cares about no one but himself, so I find it highly amusing that Dmitriy believes I’ll buy his excuse.

“Let’s pretend I believe you,” I start, lips twitching with amusement. “What will you say to him? What did your little mission reveal?”

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