Page 163 of Wicked Believer
And no one will dare touch what belongs to the devil without his permission.
Eventually, I find my way to the third floor, pausing on only a few short occasions to watch some of the masked performers engage in different kinds of bondage play. I stop and admire one of the hired demonstrators, a rigger who’s strung up his playmate in such a beautifulshibarithat it puts even Lucifer’s more detailed ropework to shame.
I haven’t laid eyes on my fiancé yet, but I have an idea of where he might be. I make my way through the rest of the third and fourth floors—bondage and restraint, and fetish and role play, respectively—until finally I find what feels like the labyrinth’s center.
The fifth and final floor.
Lucifer’s playroom.
Power play.
I step into the corridor that leads to his devil’s chair, and I know I’ve guessed correctly, because already I can feel him there. The sense that he’s somethingother.
Though how, when he’s lost his power, is a question for another day.
The inside of the playroom is as transformed as the rest of the penthouse—I can’t help but imagine this is the king of Hell’s courtroom.
Brought topside to New York City.
Lucifer sits draped across his throne in the middle of it all, holding court like he’s waiting for me. His attention locks on to mine the moment I enter the room, and the rush of power that sweeps over me has nothing to do with his missing divine abilities.
Lucifer’s hold over me is primal, visceral.
So fundamental to who we both are, it transcends time and space.
And Michael’s wicked games.
Lucifer’s hands tighten over the chair’s edges, that devilish smirk of his focused on me as I approach him. I’m not sure how he’s managed to conceal his loss of power from his siblings tonight, but then my eyes fall to the corner, finding Azrael, who’s serving as one of the dungeon monitors on this floor, and the answers fall into place.
Azrael’s his shield.
He’s using his powers in lieu of Lucifer’s.
I feel his divine touch all over me, even in places I shouldn’t.
My gaze darts back toward Lucifer. Even without his abilities, how anyone could perceive the vicious ruler of Hell before me as powerless is beyond me.
He’s more god than mortal.
He’s his Father’s power embodied.
The height of His pride as He took stock in all He created.
Nothing Michael could ever do could change that.
I step forward as Lucifer summons me with the crook of two fingers until he stands before me. “I have something for you, little dove.”
I lift a brow.
“An early wedding gift.”
“First Azmodeus and now you? You’re spoiling me.”
Lucifer’s twisted grin widens. “I think you’ll find mine is far more practical.” There’s a gleam in his eyes that makes my breath hitch. He gestures to one of the performers, who steps forward, and immediately I recognize him as ...
“Ramesh?” I breathe softly.
He gives a silent nod and passes a medium-size jewelry box toward Lucifer.
