Page 61 of Wicked Believer
Oh God.
I hadn’t even been in the right frame of mind to stop and consider that I should have never left him alone to—
“What about Xzander?” I ask, panic rising as I grab hold of Imani’s wrist. “The police. They didn’t—?”
“No, he’s fine,” Imani says, knowing exactly what I mean. “They took him in for questioning, and he’s shaken, but he’ll be all right. Our lawyers took good care of him.”
“He shouldn’t have had to risk himself like that. Not for me.”
Police brutality didn’t end when the Originals came topside. If anything, all the division lately has made everything so much worse.
“None of this is your fault, Charlotte.”
I nod. Logically, I know she’s right, but ...
I can’t stop the pain it brings me.
All those people. All those people.
My heart constricts.
Imani seems to recognize where my thoughts are heading. “He said to tell you he’ll be back shortly.”
My “fiancé” she means. I sigh, my heart aching.
A real proposal feels like it’s a long time coming. Even though it’s only been a few days since we last spoke about it. Does wanting it make me ... complicit in all this? Like the Righteous say?
“Where is he off to this time?” I don’t try to hide my disappointment.
These days it feels like Lucifer’s gone more than he’s here.
“To Hell. Handling things. The other Originals are there, too, I think.”
I lift an unconvinced brow.
“Look, I don’t ask, and he doesn’t tell. It keeps things easy.” Her gaze flits over me.
But shouldn’t he be here? With me?
I don’t say it out loud, but still, I think it. He promised he’d do whatever it takes to be worthy of me, and yet ...
All those people.
I nod, staring down at my coffee.
It’s times like these, when I’m at my loneliest, that I miss my mother the most, and the grief sneaks up on me. I suppose grief is cyclical like that. Fate can never allow you to grieve only once. It has to circle around. Make you ache twice as hard.
Though maybe Lucifer’s feeling just as many doubts as I am lately.
My lip trembles.
“Oh, girl, don’t start the waterworks on me now. My mascara can’t handle it, baby.” Imani pulls me into her then, giving me a fierce, tight hug before she quickly smooths the sides of my hair for me. If I had a crooked crown, Imani would be the kind of woman who would straighten it. She’s a girl’s girl through and through.
When she pulls back, she smiles at me. “Have I ever told you about how I met that monstrous man of yours?”
Monstrous?I nearly snort.
The word seems too light, too mythical to hold the full truth.
