Page 66 of An Unexpected Ascension
Speechless,I follow Lucifer down a dimly lit hallway, black gothic sconces glowing softly. The entire manor is covered in shades of black, it seems to be a recurring theme down here.
He leads me in front of a doorway, gesturing me through the threshold.
“The space is yours. Despite what that brood said, you will not serve as a whore or a pet, but perhaps you might like to stay a while. My Second could use a little torment of his own and I think I know just the thing.”
He smirks and as much as I like the sound of that, I hate the idea of being near that demon.
“Rest assured, he’s fixing his head down in our dungeons. Visiting a dear old friend of ours. Meanwhile, help yourself to the belongings in here and I’ll have a feast waiting in our Great Hall. Someone will fetch you shortly.”
The wooden door closes with his absence, leaving me in this?—
A four-poster bed with a duvet in the darkest shade of violet sits against the wall to the left. I descend the two steps into the room and run my hand over the silky fabric. A plethora of different pillows decorate the headboard, some lacy and black, others the same silky violet. It’s magnificent. Grand. Romantic.
There is a feminine touch to this chamber, one I doubt would befit the God of Hell, but perhaps a lover of his? Though, everything in here looks untouched as if it’s never been used.
I run my hand over the dresser, carved intricately with beautiful detail. The wood a glossier black than the matte walls. Opening the drawer, I find undergarments made of all lace and little coverage. Pulling a brassiere from the pile, holding it up for inspection. There’s nothing to it, but it will have to do.
Gathering whatever I can find in the drawers, I make my way to the ensuite. The tub sits on the balcony beyond two French double doors overlooking the distant city of Hell, cast in a glowing red spotlight. The silhouette of the buildings and towers is breathtaking, something I never thought could be possible here.
Despite the red glow of the late evening, I find myself appreciating the beauty of Hell.
Just as I’mdressed and slipping into a pair of black heels, courtesy of the Devil, a knock sounds at the door. A guard, covered head to toe in thick, leather armor, offers me an elbow and silently I take it.
The violet of the dress is brutal, so deep it can only belong here in Hell. It spills down to the floor, caressing the hall as we stride to dinner. The fabric is thin, like layered gauze and wraps around my body, clinging to my curves.
It’s not something I would have ever chosen for myself, but nearly all the pieces hung in the closet are fit for a ruler and not some fallen angel. Yet, I’m grateful for the change of clothes. It’s been months that I wore the same tank top and shorts in Heaven. I stopped caring after a while, but then again, I really stopped caring about everything.
We pause at the doors of the Great Hall, empty save for Lucifer perched at the head of a very long table. Sitting atop is a golden carafe filled to the brim with burgundy wine and a feast with anything imaginable: roasted chicken, seared vegetables, fruits, decedent tarts, chocolates.
“Wow,” is all I can think to say.
Lucifer stands and collects me from the threshold, leading me toward the spread.
“I figured after some time of not eating real food, you might enjoy a little bit of everything. Wine?”
Yes, wine. I would start with wine!
I nod, slipping a golden goblet in my hand while he pours. After grabbing his own glass, he lifts it up and taps it to mine.
“To new friends.”
Friends...The Devil. Is it wise to make friends with the God of Hell?Well, it certainly would not be wise to find myself on the opposite side of the spectrum.
“To new eternities.”
His eyes glow at that, urging me to sip, solidifying our toasts.
“Come, sit, eat, enjoy.” He smiles warmly... almost sincerely.
He pulls the chair out from next to his and allows me to lower into it before pushing it back in with ease. Every movement he makes is graceful, it just adds to his magnetism. He’s similar to the demon in a way that they could be brothers. Lucifer with his dark hair and perfectly cut scruff. The only difference would be their polar personalities and the color of their eyes. The warm milk chocolate gaze I stare into now is... comforting, genuine, and fair.
Lucifer loads my plate with a little bit of everything while I take another sip of the wine. The bitter fermented fruit washes over my tongue and heats my belly. It’s more than anything I can ask for right now.
“What did I do?” I finally bring myself to ask.
Those warm eyes look up from my plate.
“Oh, dear. Where do I even start?”
