Page 125 of Wicked Believer
Motherfucker!
I snarl.
“It won’t work on me.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Charlotte
By the time Azrael is finished pulverizing me into the mat nearly two hours later, and I’ve finally learned how to properly breakfall—he can’t possibly be serious that I’m somehowfallingthe wrong way, can he?—I’m so furious and exhausted that I want nothing more than to shower and crawl back into bed for the foreseeable future.
And maybe use one of the playroom’s vibrators to ease the throbbing ache between my legs. To distract myself from the global news this morning. I groan.
No.I willnotallow myself to acknowledge how Death and his creepy stalkerish ways have been the star of my recent freakish fantasies.
I amsonot going there.
I force my thoughts to turn to Lucifer.
It isn’t until Mia meets me outside the training room, her shiny goddamn tablet in her hand with the Calendly schedule Lucifer created for me already pulled up, that I realize this torturous morning is only just the beginning. Day one of my punishment.
I scowl. “Where’s Lucifer?”
He may have played a key role in causing all this, but it doesn’t mean I’m not worried about him. I knew who he was when I chose to stay with him. I knew what I was signing up for.
Even if I never could have fathomed something like this.
I just need to be certain he’s okay.
“He’s busy.” Mia brushes off my question. “You’ll see him at seven. Your next appointment is with Greed.”
“Greed?”
Mia passes me a scone, and I stare at it, slightly shocked. “Thanks?” I quirk a brow at her.
This is the second time today she’s done something kind for me.
Maybe I was wrong about her?
I nibble a few bites, but after the full-body workout Azrael put me through, I’m basically dead on my feet.
Daddy Death takes no prisoners.
I cough, nearly choking on my scone at the unintentional nickname I’ve given him.
No. No, no, no, Charlotte. Why?I internally berate myself.
Just because loving Lucifer feels difficult right now doesn’t mean ...
I stuff another bit of scone inside my mouth to keep myself from groaning.
But the nickname is kind of perfect, actually.
And what does a bit of harmless fantasy hurt?
Lucifer would likely say the same thing.
And Azrael strikes me as a little too serious for his own damn good.
