Page 18 of Wicked Believer
Ramesh’s voice is softer, though still concerned as he calls out, “Is there anything I can get for you, Miss Charlotte?”
“No,” I call back, my shaking hand lashing out to rush and turn the faucet off as I glance toward the door. I hear a subtle crack, followed by a loud crunch, and I turn to find the faucet’s now-broken handle clutched in my palm, the porcelain crushed completely. Several of its shards poke out of my skin as my blood begins to pool.
I stare at it, fear and shock leaving me unable to move.
But I . . . feel nothing.
“Miss Charlotte?” Ramesh’s voice sounds uncertain. Clearly, he heard the porcelain breaking.
“I’m coming,” I shout, adrenaline getting the better of me.
Even as I’m too numb to feel.
I use my other hand to cradle my injured palm as blood begins to drip into the marble sink. The crimson splotches speckle amid the rock’s natural pattern. Shaking from head to toe, I grab hold of a nearby hand towel, shoving the fluffy white linen against the cut in a futile attempt to stop the bleeding, but that only seems to push the shards deeper.
I let out a pained hiss. So much for numb.
“Miss Charlotte, are you all right?” Ramesh mumbles, his voice strained with concern.
“Yes. Yes, I’m fine,” I lie, forcing my grip to remain steady as I begin to pull the first shard from the fleshy mound near my thumb. I swallow down a panicked whimper.
But my tone betrays me.
“If you need any assistance, I would be happy to send one of the maids in.”
Silence answers. I mouth another string of curses, pulling yet another shard from my skin. The pain cuts through me.
“Or perhaps you would prefer I call Mr. Apollyon?”
“No,” I say quickly. Too quick. I want to shut that idea down fast.
The thought of facing Lucifer, of him seeing me vulnerable like this, especially after we fought ... well, it ... it no longer feels safe to me.
“No. No, that won’t be necessary,” I say, shaking my head, though I know Ramesh can’t see me. If he could, Lucifer would be on the phone and then here before I could blink. “Tell Dagon I’ll be down when I’m ready.”
Ramesh lingers, and even through the door, I can practically feel his hesitation before finally he mutters, “Yes, of course, Miss Bellefleur.”
A moment later, I hear his steps slowly retreat down the hall.
Leaving me alone.
I sink to my knees, collapsing onto the tiled bathroom floor just as a pained, strangled whimper escapes me. I wince, a sharp searing sensation racing up my arm as I slowly pull yet another shard from my palm. My blood coats the floor and sink as I sit there, painstakingly removing every piece, and I can’t help but think that no matter how well meaning, Ramesh can no longer help me. No mortal can.
And that thought chills me to my marrow.
As the last of my humanity slips away from me ...
Chapter Seven
Lucifer
“She’s late.”
“I’m sure she has a good reason.” Imani casts me a knowing smile from overtop the glass of cabernet she’s nursing, her dark features cutting straight through me.
She’s a stunning middle-aged Black woman, whose marketing acumen nearly matches her refined look, but though Imani may have known me longer than any other human, my now-immortal fiancée included, it wouldn’t take a genius, or someone with even half her image expertise, to see right through me.
I haven’t been myself ever since Charlotte and I exchanged words the other evening.
