Page 25 of Forged in Twilight: The Complete Series

Lucifer’s smile widened. “As I said, that won’t be necessary.”

As the maimed demon nodded hurriedly as black blood spilled down his chin, Lucifer swept down the hall. Once he was gone, Jerroz ran down the hall in the opposite direction, leaving Becca alone in her cubicle.

Forget giving up. Now that she’d seen the talisman hanging around his throat—now that she was sure Lucifer wanted her to see it—Becca refused to sit back and wait around for Jerroz to take his sadistic pleasures out on her.

She couldn’t stay in the Pit. She couldn’t. Who knew how long Lucifer’s faux pleasantry would last, and she was sure that the only reason Jerroz hadn’t already stopped to retaliate was that he was concerned with Lucifer lopping off more than a bit of his tongue.

But what to do?

She glanced down at her wrist as if drawn to it like a moth to a flame. It was risky, but there was only one thing she could think to do.

Whether it was because she’d inadvertently spent decades imprinting on the rosary, or because of the tattoo she had etched into her skin in this life and her last, Becca was a bit of an oddity in the Pit. Though she was a demoness, she still considered herself a practicing Catholic. She had faith in the rosary, almost as much as she had in her feelings for her angel.

He protected her when he didn’t have to. No matter what she had to do, she would make sure to do the same for Raze.

There were times in the Pit when, despite the overwhelmingly swampy nature of the heat, her rosary was like a salve against her skin. No demon, regardless of their level in the hierarchy, ever attempted to take it from her, mainly because no one but Becca was brave enough to touch such a holy relic. There was still some magic in the beads, and as it chilled her to the bone, she wondered if being so close to Raze these last few weeks had done something to charge it.

She’d always wondered if there was something about her rosary that would help her break free of Lucifer. Too afraid to ever try, Becca figured that this was the only chance she had.

If it worked, she could get back to Raze.

It better fucking work.

Thinking of her angel, remembering the hard shape of his jaw, the cool look in his steely blue eyes that warmed up whenever he watched her, the reluctant smile she’d caught maybe once or twice… remembering the surprise she felt to hear she was his soulmate, followed by the strange sensation that it… it was right… remembering how he made her safe, made her whole… Becca closed her eyes and prayed that she could get back to him.

And, leaving her beloved rosary behind as a token of her sacrifice, she miraculously made her escape.

* * *

It just about killed Raze that, as a celestial being, he wasn’t allowed to enter Hell.

Just then, on the heels of Lucifer’s flashy disappearance, he would’ve given up his last claim to Heaven if only he could drop further down below and get to his soulmate.

Did he blame himself before? If so, not enough, because this was all his fault. If he’d told her from the beginning that they were fated to be together, this never would’ve happened. Becca wouldn’t have felt betrayed that he kept it from her for so long, and she wouldn’t have run out of the hotel where Lucifer had been waiting to scoop her up and take her back to the Pit. Almost as if he’d witnessed her abduction himself, his angelic senses assured him that’s what happened.

Damn it!

It didn’t matter that Lucifer offered him a choice, either. Raze knew him well enough to know that this—all of it—was some kind of trap. Lucifer wanted to make him squirm. Raze was willing to bet that he never would’ve upheld either side of his bargain. He was just after getting Raze to admit what was more important: the talisman or his soulmate.

The talisman would lead him back to Heaven. Becca would make Heaven on Earth for Raze.

Both of them would lead to Lucifer’s curse being broken, but of course the devil left out that detail.

Still. It didn’t matter. If Lucifer knew anything about what it was like to have a soulmate, he never would’ve made his laughable offer.

The answer was Becca. It would always be Becca. And though he was sure Lucifer knew that otherwise he wouldn’t have gone to such lengths to get to her, Raze never would’ve given him the satisfaction of hearing him admit it.

The second Lucifer was gone, though?

He took to the skies, venting his frustration while praying that somehow, some way, the Heavenly Father or one of his lost brothers would hear him and help him find his soulmate. He searched, though he knew it was pointless, and he cast his aura like a net on the odd chance that his weakening powers would do something.

He didn’t have the faith that it would. Millennia of living among the mortals beat the last of his hope out of him, turning him cold, turning him cynical—until he met Becca. Raze didn’t know what would happen if he lost her so soon after finding her, but considering the way Micah closed off after the death of his witch, he worried for the rest of the City of Sin.

If he couldn’t get Becca back, there might not be a city standing when he was done.

Just when he started to feel some of his aura eke out of his control, Raze thought about ending his flight before he realized he couldn’t. He couldn’t. Even if it was only for the one night, returning to the hotel was like giving up. Like accepting that Becca was gone out of his reach. And while that was true, he refused to believe it.

Hours into soaring over the Strip, fury keeping him aloft even as his wings tired, Raze kept going. When he could’ve sworn he felt a tug low in his gut, he couldn’t dare let himself believe what that could possibly mean.

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