Page 95 of Lucifer's Redemption

“Just because you got your cycles a little later, it doesn’t mean anything. You have been through the wringer. You may be a little sheltered, but you are stronger than anyone thinks. Luci may baby you,” she giggled, “but you can hold your own.” I sniffed, comforted by her words.

“You are going to be just fine, Little Goddess.” Mariah kissed me on my head. “And if you ever need anything, you can always come to me—even when Ares is around. I’ll always come to help you, no matter what.” Mariah pulled me up from the toilet, now completely changed into comfortable clothes.

“We, strong women, need to help each other out. What do you say?” I nodded into her embrace, relaxing. I was okay; everything was going to be okay.

Chapter 39

Uriel

Mariahmovedtowashher hands in the sink. I stood, holding my arms around my stomach. My tummy continued to have those funny ‘cramps,’ as Mariah called them.

“You need to stay close to Lucifer, okay?” Mariah’s smile didn’t stretch as it had earlier. “Being near your mate lessens the pain. You can even have him lay his hand on your stomach; that makes it much better.” Mariah turned back to the sink, pretending to concentrate on her hands, but I knew better.

Call it my gut instinct, but something was bothering her, and I had to know what. It was the same funny feeling I felt when my mom got really sad before I touched her.

“What’s wrong?” My head leaned over the sink to look her in the eyes.

‘Eyes were the windows of the soul,’ they say. It’s hard for someone to look you in the eye and lie—they could dilate, twitch, or look away. I noticed these things since coming into my power to sense lies.

“I can’t lie to you, can I?” Mariah chuckled, drying her hands with Luci’s fluffy, black towel. I shook my head, glad that she knew.

Every time someone told me a lie, it made my chest hurt. I don’t think I could handle my chest hurting while my tummy was cramping.

Mariah leaned both hands on the sink, her body sagging while staring at her beautiful face in the mirror. Her dark-brown eyes and her delicate facial features were a stark contrast to her muscular body.

Ares was really lucky. She was fierce and muscular but still had that beautiful feminine look that would make the perfect mom one day. Those soft eyes held such warmth for the God of War, who slaughtered thousands, maybe millions, of lives.

“It’s just that talking about Lucifer comforting you when you have your monthly—it just reminded me of some things.” Mariah turned her back to walk out of the bathroom, but I quickly followed, grabbing her hand.

The warmth from our hands, which I felt before with Zeus and my mom, burned brightly. Only this time, I didn’t just feel warmth, I saw her despair. My eyes widened. Mariah’s eyes did the same until they calmed to a half-hooded state. Her rigid body slumped before taking a step closer so that I didn’t have to stretch to keep her close.

The glow lasted a few moments before finally disappearing, entirely. I felt more this time: her worry; her love, and her concern for Ares.

Wait, Mariah was concerned for Ares? Why would she be concerned about him? He was strong and unstoppable; he was such a great god possessing all things strength related.

“You helped me, Mariah. Let me help you?” I looked up at her tall stature. She towered over me, much like most of the male gods, but she was something else; she stood at least six feet tall with beautiful, muscular shoulders. Shockingly, the warmth in her eyes held unshed tears. I never imagined her crying, not when she always appeared to be so happy with her mate. But now that she was away from him, I could see her walls crumbling.

“Please,” I begged her. Now my body. and this power inside me wanted to know her worries and to help calm her. It was my duty, but, most of all, I justwantedto help.

Mariah sighed deeply, sitting right there, in the middle of the carpeted floor. Her hands went to hide her face. “I’m strong. I’m a warrior,” she whispered as I sat in front of her. Her hands were now only covering her mouth. She sighed heavily again. “I worry for my mate,” she whispered, barely audible.

“He is strong physically, but I worry about his mentality. He puts on a strong front, but, on the inside, he is crumbling, and I’m not sure why.” The crack in her voice caused her to sit up straight, trying not to cry in front of me.

“But do have an idea,” she sniffed. “I fear it might be me.” Mariah was too proud to let a tear fall. I grabbed her hand again, pulling the freezing darkness from her body into mine. The glow flashed again, taking more of the burden that burned inside her. “That feels—that makes me feel better; like a cool cloth to my body.” I hummed, concentrating on her feelings.

She worried for Ares. It was deep. I could feel it in her soul.

“What is wrong with Ares?” I muttered, still holding her hand. Mariah tried to retract her hand, but I didn’t relent. I held her hand tightly, the feeling of worry was too strong to let go. I couldn’t let her go, not now.

“I can’t give him children,” she muttered. “We have tried since the first day we mated. I cannot conceive, and I don’t know why.” Mariah choked, still trying to pull away.

“What else?” I pressed.

There was something more, something she wasn’t telling me.

“You’re a warrior, Mariah,” I looked up at her. “A warrior.” A flash of determination in her face let me pull more of the deep sorrow from within her.

I could now feel the guilt. She felt it was her fault—her fault she couldn’t give him a child.

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