Page 85 of Wicked Believer
Exactly the monster everyone believes him to be.
I take a step back.
Slowly, Lucifer prowls toward me, until I’m forced to retreat so far I’m backed up against the wall, cornered between his lithe body and the doorframe. He stares down the bridge of his nose at me like I mean nothing to him, that cold, deadened stare tearing me in two.
“You want to be my queen? Fine.” The amber hellfire in his eyes flames as he snarls, “Then start acting like it.”
He stalks past me, exiting our bedroom, leaving me standing there, alone and breathless, the marble floor where he stood only moments ago blackened and singed. I stay frozen there, breathing hard, unable to make sense of what all this means, as if the whole world isn’t crumbling around me and my future husband isn’t one of the few leading the charge to scorch the earth beneath me.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Lucifer
I find myself standing alone inside the cathedral Charlotte took refuge in the other morning, the rage coiled inside me a very living, breathing thing. I don’t truly understand what it is about this establishment that draws me, but I drop down into the first-row pew, burying my head in my hands. A short while later, I feel an unexpected presence join me.
“I’m not surprised to see you here.”
I look up to find the priest who cared for Charlotte watching me.
Father Brown, if I recall.
Not that I honestly give a fuck.
He sits down on the other end of the pew, looking up toward the altar, where an array of candles and gold fixtures frame the image of Christ on the crucifix. Behind it, a stained glass window depicts several of the disciples bearing witness to Christ’s ascension.
I wasn’t the only child my Father chose to sacrifice.
Just the only one whose pain was never allowed to mean anything.
“What brings you here, Lucifer?” the priest asks.
I scowl. I’m not exactly pleased by his sudden appearance, nor the prospect of his company. “You tell me,” I challenge, my eyes narrowing at him.
It’s petty and foolish, particularly by my usual standards, but I have little respect for those in the clergy. For those responsible for the numerous lies humanity believes of me. Even if there was once a time when I was more like them than I care to admit.
My Father’s eager servant.
And for what?
For Him to cast me out at the first sign of doubt in Him?
To my surprise, Father Brown doesn’t flinch away, like this isexactlythe sort of devil-may-care attitude he expects from me, and the fact I’ve played so readily into his trite, human expectations only infuriates me even more.
“She still prays, you know.”
There’s only one woman he could possibly mean.
The one and only person who has ever truly mattered to me.
“And why tell me this? For your own amusement?” I sneer, lifting a furious brow. “To remind me that she is unfaithful to me in the only way that matters?”
“Why should she have to choose, Lucifer?” he asks.
Bloody hell.
As if the answer isn’t obvious.
When I don’t deign to respond, he sighs. “You fear losing her.”
