Page 6 of All's Hell That Ends Well

In Hell.

My heart beating like a drummer on speed, I scanned the room, noting the shreds of furniture, the ruins of what oncemight have been sofas and end tables, the tears of fabric on the walls indicating where tapestries used to hang.

A single candle illuminated the suffocating darkness, and there, just out of reach of its glow, slumped on a half-destroyed armchair, sat Lucifer.

I sucked in a breath.

His hair was still black.

Whatever effects had turned that once golden blond of his head to unrelenting obsidian in the wake of Lilith’s death, it persisted, same as the haggard look on his face and the pure midnight of his eyes.

Gone was the turquoise of his irises, that stunning hue that had reminded me of Caribbean lagoons, the same color that adorned Naamah’s eyes.

If this were the time to joke, I’d say that he’d turned into an emo-goth version of himself.

But it wasn’t a time for jokes, of course. More like anI’m jumping out of my skin with terrorkind of time.

Because though I’d been afraid of Lucifer before, intimidated by the sheer amount of ancient power pouring off him, wary of his unpredictability, there’d still been a thread of…normality about him. I’d recognized him as a demon—immensely powerful, yes, but in the end, a being like all the others I’d met.

This creature before me didn’t feel in any way normal. It felt like something that had crawled out of some other dimension and barely fit into this world, breathing cold and darkness and the musty gloam of death.

Lucifer rose from his seat, and my soul recoiled in horror. I stumbled back a step, heart thumping against my rib cage, watching with wide eyes as he came closer until he stopped right in front of me.

For a moment, he stared down at me, the black of his eyes so absolute, like I’d imagine the primordial darkness before thecreation of light. His power washed over me like an icy breeze, making my fingers numb from the cold.

Then he sank to his knees, wrapped his arms around my middle, and hugged me.

CHAPTER 3

My brain stuttered. My thoughts all derailed.

What the fuck?

I stood there with my arms held half raised, loath to touch him, paralyzed by shock, while Lucifer, the supreme overlord of Hell, First of the Fallen and antithesis to God, hugged me like he’d just recovered a long-lost treasure.

There was nothing sexual or suggestive in the embrace,thank fuck, just a world of relief and affection—ew—mixed with despair and heartache.

His face still pressed against my front, his shoulders began to jerk, almost as if?—

The sound of a sob broke the oppressive silence of this tomb-like room.

My eyes widened. I drew in a sharp breath through my nose, my mouth shut tightly so as not to make a noise.

Hewept.

Lucifer knelt there before me, grabbing me in a disturbing kind of hug, and cried, hunched over, into my stomach.

Help. Someone help me.How had I gotten into this situation? How had I ended up as the Devil’s comfort blanket?

And how could I get out of it?

After an awkwardly long moment of near-silent sobs, during which I stood there with my hands still hovering half raised, pretending Lucifer wasn’t currently wetting my bruised and battered fighting gear with his tears, he pulled back a little and straightened, his expression so agonized it pierced my soul.

Closing his eyes, he laid one hand on my chest, just over my wildly galloping heart—the touch remaining nonsexual—his power flowing into me as if seeking.

Deep inside me, that kernel of Lilith’s essence she’d gifted me responded with a warm glow.

The anguish in his expression gave way to a relieved kind of joy, a profound, blissful contentment, like someone relishing the warmth of a crackling hearth after wandering through a blistering snowstorm. I’d seen the same expression in footage of people rescued from being adrift at sea.

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