Page 224 of Boy of Ruin
I pick my head up from his shoulder, twist around to stare into his eyes. “Mean what?” I ask him, confused. Tense. Everything has been one explosion after the other with us, I’m not comfortable. I’m not scared of him, but with Jeremiah so far, and his protection gone, I just feel…out of sorts. There’s a literal ache in my chest from J’s absence, and the only thing that makes it feel remotely better is looking at his initial in my skin.
But seeing my husband’s face now, his dark brows furrowed, his eyes glued to mine, I know that if I had been forced to choose—if Jeremiah hadn’t made the choice for me—right here is where I would want to be.
I love them both. I probably always will.
But living without Lucifer…I think it would be impossible. For both of us.
“When you said I was your…” He glances down, between us, one hand coming to my belly, slipping under the hem of my tank top, his fingers cold as they splay against my skin. “Nightmare?” he finally finishes with, whispering that word as he looks back up at me through his long lashes. The TV is on low, the screen flashing along his face, and I see the fear there. He doesn’t bother trying to hide it.
Like he’s trying to open up. Trying to be vulnerable.
“When you said I wasn’t your flinch?”
At that word, my breath catches in my throat and I close my eyes, my hands fisted under the blanket, in the fuzzy velvet.
He leans closer and I feel his breath against my ear when he whispers, “It’s okay, baby girl.” Despite the words, I hear the pain. “You can feel how you like. I don’t want you to hide anything from me, Sid.” He drops his head, pressing a kiss to my shoulder, his full lips against my skin as he slides the thin strap of my tank top down my arm with his teeth.
Warmth flushes through me, but I open my eyes, wanting to stop him.
We communicate with sex, but it’s not enough. For me, for him. We have to find ways to talk without fucking it out. Afterward, fine. But I know he wants more from me. He always has.
I wrap my arms around his neck, twisting further, swinging my legs on the couch. He smiles, one hand still on my tummy, the other around my back as he holds me to him.
My heart races in my chest as I think about the past year and a half. How our lives changed completely. The things he gave up for me, and the things he’s tried, in his own way, to fight against. How he felt when he lost track of me on that Halloween night, and then Noctem, when I ran.
He loves me.
I think I’ve always known that.
But I’m not sure if he’s always known my own truth. “I love you, Lucifer,” I tell him honestly, my eyes searching his as his hands tighten around me, on my hip and my belly. Over our child. “I’ve loved you since before we were married.” I didn’t want to feel it then. I didn’t want to be so vulnerable, but I knew if I ever had to live without him, it would be a hard, painful life. I wanted to keep them both, and my love for Lucifer doesn’t negate my love for Jeremiah, but Lucifer…no matter what he’s done, he’s my person. “And you’ve always been my flinch. That night…” I swallow down the lump in my throat, the broken tone to my voice as I close my eyes tight and he brushes a lock of hair behind my ear, his arm wrapped around me. “And every night after,” I finally finish on a hoarse whisper as I open my eyes.
When I do, he’s smiling at me, his white, straight teeth and that dimple in his pale face the most beautiful thing I think I’ve ever seen.
He presses his forehead to mine, his thumb drawing small circles on my belly. “You mean that?” he asks me, his voice so, so quiet.
I smile back at him, inhaling that pine and nicotine scent that I wish I could bottle up and keep forever. But I guess since I have him, I don’t really need a bottle. “I mean it,” I promise him.
“You think you can be happy with me?” I see his throat bob as he swallows when silence, save for the movie neither of us are paying attention to, spreads between us.
I bite my lip, my fingers running through his curls, my arms still wrapped around him. “I know I can.” There’s conviction in those words, because I mean them. If he stays clean, if he lets me breathe, lets me talk, lets me be me, he could make me the happiest girl in the world. “I am, when you love me for me,” I add truthfully. “I love everything about you. I just want you to love everything about me, too.” My chest tightens with that confession, and his thumb stops trailing my skin for a moment, his body rigid beneath me.
I tense up, too, worried I’ve said the wrong thing then pissed at myself for worrying about something like that. If I want transparency between us, he needs to let me live, just like I said.
But after a moment, he relaxes, pulling me even closer until my head is against his chest and he’s cradling me like I’m a child.
“Okay,” he says softly, staring down at me, “but do you love when I do coke?” There’s a hint of a smile on his lips, and I punch him playfully on the arm, rolling my eyes and shaking my head.
“Of course not you fucking fool, but that’s not actually you—”
He shrugs, cutting me off, still smiling as he holds my gaze. “I don’t love you letting other guys touch you. I don’t love you flirting with them, or, to be fucking honest, talking to them, but I can get over that last one if I have to.”
A heavy weight seems to settle back on my shoulders and I look away from him, at the blanket over our laps. “You didn’t seem to mind when everyone took turns with me at Ignis.”
His grip tightens. “That was different. A one-time thing. An initiation.”
I roll my eyes, but give him another truth. “I’m not going to fuck anyone else.” I bite the inside of my cheek, trying not to see it. To think about him fucking Ophelia at Liber. My face turns hot, and it’s not from embarrassment. It’s anger. Pain. “But I don’t want you to—”
He slips his hand from under my shirt and grips my chin, lifting my gaze to his. His eyes are fierce, the blue seeming to darken in the reflection from the TV screen. Every word is serious when he says, “Never again, Lilith.” He angles his head, his lips hovering over mine, his breath fanning my face. “I’m only yours. I’m sorry for what I did.” He swallows, his thumb caressing my jaw, his mouth so close but not quite there. I clench my thighs together, and remind myself we need to talk, not just fuck. But he’s so damn hot and so damn close.
