Page 25 of Wicked Believer
“What? No.” She shakes her head. “I was unfair to you then. I was just ... shocked by what you told me your Mother said, and I took my anger out on you when I shouldn’t have. I know you didn’t have any more say in her toying with our lives than I did, and what I’m really angry at is this whole ...”—she gestures around us—“this whole situation.”
I lift a brow.
“Being made from one of your bones like I’m not even my own person. Like my only purpose is to be your wife and make babies. You know, a Quiverfull theology. Like I had no real choice in the matter.Just like with Mark. Not to mention theapocalypse.” Her eyes go intentionally wide to emphasize the word. “I wasn’t imagining what I overheard your Mother say. That really is the reason your Father let you out. Just like you said it was, isn’t it?”
I give a reluctant nod. “I’m afraid so.”
She blanches slightly. “We have to do something to stop it. We have to—”
“No.”
She falls silent immediately.
The tone I use brooks no room for discussion.
“But—”
“I am handling this. For your own safety, you will stay out of this.”
“You can’t be serious. You can’t possibly expect me to sit by and not—”
My expression turns cold. “Do you truly think it wise, considering the other night? How you reacted to my Mother’s news of us being fated? Your powers?”
Charlotte tenses, her lower lip quivering before she glances down at her hands. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I don’t have what it takes.”
With my free hand, I lift my whisky, taking a slow sip. “The apocalypse does not happen overnight. For now, you will leave this and my family to me.”
I stroke my thumb over her palm soothingly, where her hand continues to rest in mine. A small attempt to remind her of all I have given, of all she is to me, until finally she whispers, “Sometimes it feels like I ... like I traded my old life for almost the same thing. Like I didn’t spend enough time on my own after escaping Mark and my father to know what I truly wanted before ...”
I stiffen.
Her voice trails off as she forces a watery smile, but it fades quickly. “I escaped that life for a reason, Lucifer.” She lifts her gaze to mine, her expression almost pleading. “Please don’t make me do it again.”
My resolve softens. “Is this where your hesitation about our wedding lies?”
“No. No, this is about you and me doing it onourterms. The right way. For real this time.”
For real.As if she still believes this is all a game to me.
After everything I sacrificed for her.
“And was it real enough when I gave up my Father’s redemption for you?” I ask, my amusement fading. “When I killed your father so that when we fuck and you call me Daddy, you can no longer feel guilty? Tell me.”
She blushes furiously, but the frustration I feel barreling through our connection undercuts any pleasure I might have felt at the sight of it.
“That’s not fair,” she whispers.
I scowl. “I’ll tell you what isn’t fair.” I lean across the table, the hellfire I feel in my eyes blazing. “Fair isn’t you bringing me to heel every time you bat your pretty little lashes. Fair isn’t me sacrificing theonething I’ve ever truly wanted, all for the love of you, only for you to tell me that you fear me.”
Her breath stops short, her mouth parted slightly as she stares at me. As if she’s just now realizing how thoroughly she’s hurt me.
I do fear you.
Her thoughts scream down the line between us, even as the gentleness in her eyes continues to lie to me.
Fear how much you mean—
But I slam the door shut between us, unwilling to hear anything further.
