Page 91 of Wicked Believer
He ducks his head toward me.
And my breath hitches.
Thatpart I don’t have to fake.
But he reroutes at the last second, his lips landing right next to my ear instead of on mine, like I was anticipating. “My brother may have invented sin, butI’mthe one who invented foreplay,” he whispers against me, the brush of his mouth sending a very real, very sudden jolt of lust through me, enough that I shiver.
He pulls back a moment later, the amused look in his expression clear.
If he meant it that way, I’d know it, but that’s not what he wants from me, after all.
He’s simply toying with me.
I blush furiously, the thought of how easily he flipped that switch inside me the other day making me curious. Azmodeus is dangerous. Very, very dangerous.
In more ways than I think I can imagine.
But if not that, what does he want from me?
What can I give him that he can’t already get from Lucifer?
“Come, Charlotte.” He beckons me again.
The innuendo is intentional, I think.
This time, I don’t hesitate as I allow him to lead me into the next section of the gallery, but when I step into the other room, my breath stops short, and my whole perception of Azmodeus shifts.
Azmodeus isn’tjustthe city’s favorite playboy.
“I thought you might want to know a little of our family history, considering you’re going to be one of us now,” he says, smiling almost ruefully.
But I’m too stunned to speak.
The walls of the gallery are lined with the works of old masters.
Michelangelo, Caravaggio, Rubens, and more.
It’s stunning.
I walk to the first frame. A small three-paneled triptych oil painting on loan from the Museo del Prado.Hieronymus Bosch, the placard reads.
The Garden of Earthly Delights.
This is what Azmodeus wants,I realize.
The one thing Lucifer can’t give him.
To be taken seriously.
To be seen as somethingotherthan what a master he is between the bedsheets.
“Az, would you like to plan mine and Lucifer’s engagement party?” The question is out and hanging in the gallery like the paintings between us before I can stop it. “The real one, the private one we’re going to have now that we’re really engaged. You said you deal in secrets. I think you’re the only one who could handle a celebrity party of that caliber discreetly.”
Az grins from ear to ear like he’s feeling smug that I asked him, but also, a little surprised. “I’d be honored, Charlotte.” He makes an exaggerated court-jester bow before he pinches his lips together as if he’s considering how he could possibly make that statement into an innuendo, but then gives up.
He begins to explain the exhibit, launching into a tale about when he and Lucifer and the other Originals were first made. The paintings on the wall help curate the story.
Apparently, it started with nothingness—the blank infinite canvas before an explosion of chaos created everything, God included—and then there was light, and water, and stardust, then ...
