Page 56 of Touched By Death

“Is that so?” I murmur, reaching forward to grab my glass of whiskey. As the alcohol slides down my throat, I cut to the chase. Enough of this charade. I care little for mind games. “You’re not Aurelia. My son would never obsess over a girl who crawls so easily to his father, like every other girl in the kingdom. Why are you really here, Genesis?” It’s pathetic how she thinks I’ll fall into her trap so easily. It takes more than a seductive outfit and a devilish smile. I eat women like her for breakfast.

She fingers the strap of her suspender skirt. “Too much?”

I snort, placing the glass back down on the table, and ease back in my chair. “It’s laughable how easily you thought you could trick me. My son is nothing like me. He’s obsessed with Aurelia and craves her pussy juices like a human man addicted to heroin. But he’d kick her to the curb at the drop of a fucking hat if she came on to me.” I let my heated gaze fall down her fuckable body. “I saw through your little act the very second you entered the building. The question is why. Why are you back? Why now?”

Trailing her heeled toes up the inside of my calf, she smiles a seductive, lazy smile that slides over my hardening dick like a damn caress. “You ask a lot of questions, Lucifer. Have you not missed me?”

I scoff. “I don’t care for whores.”

“Yet you have an insatiable appetite for them,” she replies, waving a hand around the almost empty room. Then she laughs, a tinkling sound that rings out like church bells. “You’re not still sour about that, are you? That I fucked your brother?”

Despite the centuries that have long since passed, my stomach churns with residual bitterness. My damn brother and his relentless need to acquire everything I have. The pussies I fuck. The fucking throne.

“You are,” she giggles, and I shove her heeled foot from between my thighs.

“What the fuck do you want? Enough of the mind games. You’re boring me.”

“I don’t think I am.” Placing her feet on the floor and leaning forward, tits squishing together, she trails her eyes over my face. “I think you haven’t been this intrigued since the day you stepped out of Eden. You are a bored man, Lucifer. You like a little chaos to spice up the monotony of life. And what would be sweeter than bending your own son’s latest obsession over a table and filling her every hole with cum?”

“There’s only one problem with that,” I grumble, hating to admit that she’s right. “You’re not her. And while fucking you would be a certain way of pissing off my son, it defeats the purpose if it’s a vengeful ex, masquerading as forbidden fruit. It would be a poor replica.”

“Poor replica,” she echoes, reaching out and grabbing my whiskey glass. With her eyes on me, she takes a sip. Her throat jumps as she swallows it down before licking her lips. “I think we both know that I’d do a better job than some innocent little angel from Eden.”

“You were one once, remember?”

“I have a vague recollection,” she says before chuckling softly and placing the glass back down on the table. “But you don’t like innocence, Lucifer. You thirst for something darker.”

“Not true,” I reply, bored of this conversation and eager to move on. “I crave whatever experience will thrill me. As it is, I happen to be intrigued by what kind of woman would keep my son interested enough to not succumb after a week of torture. Whatever it is about the little angel, it is something worth exploring.”

“Before doing what?” she asks with a twinkle in her eyes. “Killing her and removing her impressive wings?” She angles to the side to show me hers. Not that she has to; they’re massive. “They’d look good on your wall, wouldn’t they?”

I entertain the thought for all of two seconds, then stand up and button my suit jacket. “If this is some poor attempt at seduction, you’ll need to try harder. I’m not tempted in the slightest by your bitter grudge.”

As I turn to leave, she blurts, “I want Amenadiel dead.”

Interesting.

I search her face, excavating the defiant look in her eyes in a hunt for cracks. I know she’s up to something that will benefit only her. “I didn’t become the ruler of Hell by being naive, Genesis.” I step closer and grab her chin hard enough to make her wince. “When I see weakness, I destroy it. Don’t fuck with me.”

“I’m not fucking with you,” she hisses through clenched teeth as I dig my fingers into her skin.

Immensely enjoying my marks on her unblemished skin, I lean in to breathe her in, taken aback for a second when I smell blood, gore, and death on her beautiful neck. Remembering the speck of blood on her right breast, I smell her again, looking for any hints of whom she might have killed.

When I’m satisfied there’s no sign of my son amongst her victims, I shove her away. “My brother happens to entertain me more alive. And just like my son and every other male around, it seems he’s rather taken with the little succubus. It makes me all the more curious about her. Where is she, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Lost in the shadows, Lucifer. You know how they like to feast on innocence.”

Studying her, I hum under my breath.

Maybe I underestimated Genesis.

“I have a luxury apartment upstairs,” I offer as I place my hand on her smaller back, where her fragile spine meets the hem of her pleated skirt. It’d be so damn easy to snap her in half and end this charade once and for all. But I’m intrigued. Too fucking intrigued. “Maybe you’d like a drink, away from the throngs of people?”

Her smile is predatory. “For old time’s sake.”

* * *

“I love how the stench of torture and death greeted us the moment you opened the door,” she says when I close it behind us.

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