Page 37 of Stealing His Cupcake
“Oh.” Once again, he leaves me speechless. Every time I think I have him all figured out, that there’s nothing he can say to surprise me, he goes and says something like this. I’m starting to realize there’s no way I’ll be able to resist this man.
Chapter 26
Amy
Therestofour“road trip” passes in a surprisingly relaxed atmosphere. I put the 2000s music mix back on and hum along with some of the songs. Lucifer watches me with a smile, never commenting on my atrocious singing voice. He asks me hundreds of questions until I feel like I’m in some “Amy’s Life 101” course. Some are fairly normal. My favorite color, ice cream flavor, music genre. Others are slightly more personal, like what side of the bed I sleep on or whether I tuck my feet under the blanket when I sleep or let them stick out. Some are downright embarrassing, like how often I masturbate and whether I use toys or I am more of a “hands on” person. Those make me blush and sputter and even smack him sometimes.
Some questions are surprisingly difficult to answer, like what are my life dreams. As I sputter out some generic response about being happy, I realize I don’t really have any dreams. Kayla has always been the one with dreams and ambitions. She wanted to go to college, and she did. She wanted to become a social worker to help children, and she is. She wanted to have a house and a husband and all that shebang and…well, she has a house. After Nick cheated on her, she probably won’t be rushing off to fill the husband opening, but I’m sure that once she’s ready, she’ll dive headfirst and achieve that dream as well.
Me? I’m floundering. Always have been.
My answers seem like too much information for a person to remember, yet I’m certain Lucifer is memorizing every word, just like I’m memorizing everything he says. It took me a while to gather courage but, eventually, I started asking the questions back. To my surprise, he answers them easily, looking pleased with my interest in him.
We stop several times because my poor bladder wasn’t designed for eight-hour car rides, but Lucifer doesn’t complain. He does, however, follow me around like a hound, glaring at anyone who even glances in my direction. I even catch him surreptitiously taking pictures of the few men who do look at me longer despite his glaring. He always waits for them to get to their cars, then takes a picture of those, too.
It’s not creepy. Not. At. All. I’m sure it means nothing. He can’t possibly be considering killing all those people just because they looked at me, can he? That would be insane.
We pass through Minneapolis, heading further north. The sun is hovering over the western horizon as we near our destination, and my nerves are on the fritz. Despite my gentle—and not so gentle—prodding, I didn’t get any new information about where we’re going and what we’ll do once we get there. Nothing.
My nervousness seems highly amusing to Lucifer, and I want to hate him for it, but it’s hard when he flashes me one of his playful smiles. It can’t be that bad if he’s smiling, can it? He wasn’t smiling when he tortured and killed Turbo. He was either eerily emotionless or angry. It didn’t seem like he took some sick pleasure in the act. And he said he wouldn’t hurt me. I believe that. I have to believe that.
Especially now when I don’t have a choice anymore. Especially after blowing every chance I had at escaping him today. One rest stop even had a bathroom with two entrances, for god’s sake! I could have run. I could have talked to someone. I could have done something to extricate myself fromthis situation, yet I haven’t, and not just because of Lucifer’s threats. He could kill a lone person or two if I asked them for help, yes, but slaughter a whole crowd before someone called the police? He’s not Superman. Not that Superman went around murdering innocent people for looking at Lois Lane’s boobs, either.
Lucifer’s threat was a serious one, I don’t doubt that, but I still could have worked around it. Instead, I smiled, held his hand, and joked with him. Told him how I’ve always loved cats but never had one because the apartment rules didn’t allow it and the vet fees would be too much for my already strained budget. I told him embarrassing stories, like about that time I walked straight into a glass door after working in the place for three months and decidedlyknowingthere was a glass door. He told me that once he bent over to tie his shoelace—he didn’t say it specifically, but I think the shoelace tying was to make himself look inconspicuous while following his “target”—and the back of his pants burst right down the middle, and how he started wearing underwear after that incident.
The whole day was like the best second date I’ve ever had, and I couldn’t bring myself to ruin it, so I simply didn’t think about the whole murder-and-kidnapping thing. Like at all. At times, I even genuinely thought about him as my boyfriend. Alarming, yes, but no less true.
Our destination is a quaint town I’ve never heard of. In the dark, I can’t tell if there are five or fifty thousand people living in it, but it has a homey feeling. There are no high-rise buildings I can see, most we pass by have three stories at most, with shops at the bottom. As it’s Saturday night, lots of people are milling about what I assume is the main street. None of them look like they’re preparing for a human sacrifice summer festival or a secret society meeting. We pass by a cinema without stopping, so obviously, we’re not going to the movies. What else is there?
Everything looks so normal it’s almost eerie. Why are we here? Is there an alien base nearby? A portal to a different dimension? Groaning, I rub a hand over my face. Where are all of these insane ideas coming from?
I already know the answer. Too much TV. They did warn us at school, said TV damages our brains. Well, brain officially damaged.
Just when I think I’ll burst from all the anticipation, we finally pull over at a nearly empty parking lot in the center of the town. In front of a…town hall? I shake my head, too stupefied to guess anymore.
Lucifer kills the engine and ominous silence spreads in the car, punctuated by my quickening breaths. Turning sideways, he puts his arm on my headrest, his gaze boring down into my soul. “We’re here,” he announces unnecessarily, since I’ve already figured that out. But where the heck is “here” and what were we about to do? “Now, we’ll go inside.” He gestures at the town hall. Most of the windows are dark and I’m pretty sure the building is closed for the public at this time of the day, on the weekend no less, but of course those rules only apply to common folk, not to Lucifer.
“O-okay.”
“Rules still apply, cupcake. You’ll be a good girl, stay by my side and not cause any trouble, right? I would hate for anyone to get hurt.”
Swallowing roughly, I manage a nod.Government employees, he said when I asked who would be there for this “special occasion”. I guess a town hall makes sense then, but it still doesn’t explain what we’re here for. I’m definitely leaning toward the secret society meeting now, though. An anti-government conspiracy. A bunch of preppers trying to unleash WWIII so they could crawl into their bunkers, feast on canned food and laugh at normal people dying surface-side. Foreign spies. Damn, I’m back in cuckoo land.
Gently, Lucifer pushes a stray curl that has escaped my braid behind my ear. Even though he might be leading me to my death, I lean into the touch. Smiling, he caresses my cheek. “It will be fine. You don’t have to do anything. Just stay by my side, and when someone asks you a question, just say ‘I do’, and everything will be all right. Okay?”
“Okay,” I echo breathlessly. I swallow the urge to suggest we skip the meeting to make out in the car along with my last chocolate-coated almond. As far as last meals go, chocolate-coated almonds aren’t the worst.
He’s by my side of the car before my shaky hands manage to unbuckle the seat belt. Opening the door, he waits until I lumber out and unceremoniously stretch out my stiff muscles before firmly clasping my hand in his and heading toward the entrance. I take a deep breath. Alright then. Here we go.
Chapter 27
Amy
Thelargedoorleadinginside the Town Hall is unlocked, but the hall behind it is dark and deserted. I half expect an alarm to go off as we move further inside, but it’s eerily quiet. Lights come on when we approach the abandoned reception desk, and a balding older man emerges from a door on the side of the corridor. He quickly looks at Lucifer, more quickly at me, then finds something immensely interesting on the floor. “You’re here. T-that’s great,” he says, his voice breaking. He doesn’t sound all that happy about us being here. Perhaps he’s the one getting sacrificed to the alien gods. He’s certainly terrified enough for it to be true, though to be fair, anyone would falter under Lucifer’s glare.
Adjusting his tie, the man waves further down the corridor. “I’m Duncan Lockley. We’ve talked, um, talked on the phone.” He lets out a nervous chuckle. “Please, follow me. I have everything ready, I just need the—”
He pauses as Lucifer hands him something. Our IDs? Do we need to officially register with the secret society before we can attend the sacrifice?
