by K. V. Rose
My own blood.
But I kiss him back. I don’t fucking know why, but I do.
His tongue probes my mouth, my teeth, my own tongue. And then when we’re both nearly breathless, he pulls back, his eyes searching mine.
“We can’t miss this,” he says roughly, standing to his feet and yanking me up. “Stop trying to resist me.”
And goddammit, I do.
I finally realize where we are when it’s too fucking late to turn back.
An abandoned, monstrous brick building, crumbling stones and a door that’s been kicked in one too many times. An overgrown parking lot, and a fenced-in lot set against Raven River.
The former Raven Shores Psych Hospital. Now abandoned in favor of a less creepy location.
But tonight, I’m at the creepy one with Lucifer, and we’re not the only ones here.
There’s a line of people outside of the door hanging off its hinges, and I see, standing guard at the door, four guys with their arms crossed, watching the crowd of people from the party with stony expressions.
They must be the Unsaints, because I see Atlas among them.
They’re all unnervingly attractive, even in the dark. None of them are dressed up, but aside from one guy in a white tank with tattoos up and down his arms, they all wear dark clothes.
I see Ria, too, near the front, her eyes locked on the guy in the white tank.
But the Unsaints’ eyes go over the heads of the throng outside of the psych door, and then everyone turns to us.
Silence steels through the few dozen people here.
They’re watching us.
Or rather, they’re probably watching Lucifer, and I just happen to be in their line of sight.
Lucifer, for his part, keeps tugging me forward, and the crowd, miraculously, parts. Like Lucifer is crossing the goddamn Red Sea or something.
Ria’s breath hitches when I get close to her and I toss her a small smile. She grins back, and I’m happy her face is at least a friendly one. Lucifer pulls me up the steps, shoves me behind him and the rest of the guys.
None of them turn to look at me.
I notice Jeremiah isn’t here.
So does the guy in the white tank. “Where’s J?” he asks quietly. The people below the steps start talking and laughing again. A vape cloud forms in the air over their heads.
“Not coming,” Lucifer says. There’s no arguing with that tone, and no one dares. “You got your girls?” he asks the guys.
Atlas snorts. “We got ‘em. They just don’t know it yet.”
“Then let’s go. It’ll be eleven soon.” Lucifer turns and grabs my wrist to pull me into the building.
“Luce,” one of the guys calls. He’s the biggest of them all, hard muscle beneath a dark dress shirt that strains against his chest. He has a shaved head, dark eyes. And right now, those eyes are staring at me. “Be careful with that one. Jeremiah couldn’t take his eyes off of her. There’s probably a reason.”
Lucifer stares down this guy.
“Lay off it, Cain,” Atlas says with a smile. “Jeremiah is a fuck.”
But Lucifer looks back at me. “Do you know him?” he asks me. “Jeremiah?”
Now all five of them are staring at me. I feel…trapped. I shake my head, not daring myself to speak.
“You trust her?” the guy called Cain asks.
The one in the white tank turns around, his eyes narrowed on me. I see he has an inverted cross tattooed on the side of his face, by his baby blue eyes. “I trust her,” he volunteers. “She’s too tiny to fuck us up.” He leers at me.
Lucifer turns his head to glare at him. “Keep your fucking mouth shut about her, Mayhem, if you don’t me to sew your lips together when you sleep tonight.”
Then he turns and pulls me through the door.
My eyes widen when we stand in what used to be the foyer. It’s high-ceilinged, and there’s fucking torches in the wall like we’re in the medieval times or some shit. Torches.
And for a crumbling building, the inside isn’t half-bad.
There’s another plastic table stacked with drinks and Lucifer lets go of my hand while he walks toward one, flipping two black cups over, scooping out ice and pouring vodka. I hear one of the Unsaints through the barely-there door talking, calling out what sounds like names.
And I hear Ria’s name, paired with Mayhem.
God help her.
Lucifer shoves a drink in my hand. “You ready?” he asks me.
I shake my head but takes a gulp of straight vodka. “No,” I answer honestly after making a face. It doesn’t even burn that much anymore. It kind of tastes good, which means I’m drunker than I feel.
Lucifer doesn’t laugh. Or smile. “Good answer.” He tips his cup back and finishes it in seconds. Before I can say anything about it, the four other guys come inside, four girls trailing behind them.
“Time for the Death Oath,” Atlas says with a grin. He checks the black watch on his wrist. The skull on his t-shirt catches in the torch light and it almost seems to morph, eerie and unnerving. I drink more, letting the vodka burn away my fear.
I see Ria, and she comes to stand beside me. For some reason, this causes the guys to look our way. But I ignore them and loop my arm through Ria’s. Because this shit is weird and it’s probably only going to get weirder.
“No use in bonding, girls,” a deep voice says. It comes from a guy that’s shorter than the rest of them, but built, and still taller than me and the other four girls. He’s got dark brown skin.
All of the girls have their arms wrapped around themselves but with smiles on their beautiful faces.
“You’re going to be separated soon,” the same guy drawls.
And sure enough, Lucifer plucks the drink from my hand and pulls me toward him, away from Ria, who watches me with wide eyes. I glance beside me and realize I’m the only girl standing by the drink table. The rest of them are still crowded around the door, with Ria in the middle, and the rest of the guys on either side of me.
“Not how it works, Lucifer,” the guy with the deep voice says. “Put her with the rest.” He nods to the girls. “Get on your knees.”
I stiffen and spin around to face him. Lucifer’s hand clamps down on mine so hard I have to bite down on my tongue to keep from crying out at the pain in my bones, but I don’t cry out. I look at the guy with the deep voice.
“Excuse me?” I spit at the guy, my anger barely contained. First Lucifer fucks up my plan to kill myself, then I almost get kidnapped by a merry-go-round, and now these fucking idiots want us on our knees.
The girls are silent.
Everyone is silent.
But the guy holds my gaze and a slow smile forms on his lips. “Lilith?” he asks, as if he knows. Lucifer must have told him. “You clearly have no idea how things work around here, so I’ll enlighten you.” He breaks rank with the guys, and Lucifer again squeezes my hand.
“Ezra,” he snarls, the name a warning.
Ah. The missing piece of the six.
Ezra ignores Lucifer and comes to stand in front of me, his arms crossed. “You don’t get to ask questions, Lilith.” I can feel his body heat in front of me, and Lucifer’s beside me. “This isn’t the night for that. I don’t know how Lucifer found you,” his eyes flick to Lucifer’s at my side, “but it’s too late for you to turn back now.”
“Ezra,” Lucifer says again. “Back the fuck up.”
Ezra laughs. And he doesn’t back up. Instead, he steps closer, his chest nearly brushing my shoulders. “You might have to kill her when this is all over, Luce, you know that, don’t you?” Even though he directs the question to Lucifer, he keeps his gaze on me.
I look to Lucifer. Surely this guy is joking. Surely I’m joking. I set out tonight with the intention of taking my own life. Now I’m scared of this bonehead?
But he doesn’t really look like a bonehead. With dark hair, dark green eyes, and his head cocked to the side as he stares at me, he looks deadly serious. Like
he might actually kill me before the night is over.
Before I can think of a response, Lucifer jerks me behind him, and steps up into Ezra’s face.
“Back. The fuck. Up.”
Ezra stares at him a minute, jaw clenched, and then he does. He backs up. And he turns to the girls and snarls, “On your knees,” again. “Lucifer.” His eyes flick to his. “Get your shit together.”
Lucifer turns to me. “It’ll only be a minute,” he whispers. And then, before I can ask what the hell he’s talking about, he pushes me in line with the girls.
Who are on their knees.
He steps back.
I look around, shaking my head.
“I’m not going to tell you again,” Ezra snarls to me.
Ria, on her knees beside me, catches my eye. “Come on, Lilith,” she whispers with a grin.
I’m staring at them, my mouth open, when Lucifer breaks rank, comes forward, and pushes me down, his leg hooking around the back of my own knee, forcing me to the stone floor, too.
I twist my head and stare up at him, humiliated.
“What the fuck was that—” I make to spit at him, but he shoves three fingers in my mouth. And I bite down immediately, hard.
He doesn’t even frown.
He gets to his knees in front of me and shoves his fingers further into my mouth, down my throat, until I’m gagging.
With his other hand, he pulls me close, his fingers digging into my shoulder. “Stop talking,” he whispers. The fingers in my mouth press further, tickling my uvula. I gag again, and the guys all laugh. My face burns.
“Stop talking, or this will get so much worse for you, Lilith.”
I gag again, and my stomach clenches. I don’t remember the last time I ate, but I’ve had a lot to drink. My head is spinning and even my ears are burning. My knees hurt on the cement, but I can’t get up, not with Lucifer trailing his fingers down my throat and holding onto my shoulder.
“Do you understand?” he asks me.
I nod.
He takes his fingers out of my mouth and then stands to his feet, glaring down at me before joining the rest of the Unsaints.
Ezra starts to talk again. He sounds amused.
“The Death Oath comes before Lover’s Death. It’s the essence of Lover’s Death.” He takes a fucking knife out of his back pocket.
I want to get to my feet, but a girl on my other side with long red hair shakes her head, her gaze meeting mine. Reluctantly, I stay where I am.
Ezra steps up to the redheaded girl, staring down at her, the knife in his hands. If he raises that knife to her, I’m going to get up. I’m going to knock him on his ass. I don’t care that he’s twice my size.
But as he lifts the blade, he lifts up his shirt. I jerk back, confused. And then I see a skull tattoo on the left side of his abs. In black and grey, smoke pouring from one eye of the skull, a ‘U’ carved into the other eye.
I see Lucifer watching me. Everyone seems to be holding their breath.
What the fuck is this shit?
Ezra holds the blade to his own skin, above his tattoo. And this close, I can see that he’s actually going to do it. He’s going to cut himself. I know, because there are pale white scars through the mouth of the skull tattoo. Right next to the line of blood he now cuts into his skin with the knife. He keeps going, until it reaches the length of the other scars, nearly six inches.
My eyes are going to bug out of my head.
What. The. Fuck.
I look to Lucifer. He’s still staring at me. I look at Ria. Her eyes are wide, too, and her brown skin has grown pale. Okay, so at least I’m not the only one flipping out here.
Ezra holds the blade out, full of his blood, to the redhead.
My stomach churns.
The redhead seems confused, her brows pulling together.
“Open your mouth,” Ezra commands her.
Don’t do it, I think. But I can’t find the words to actually say it.
She opens her mouth, sticks out her tongue. Ezra runs the flat edge of the blade around it and even though I want to, I can’t look away. I can’t even blink.
Ezra smiles, then he grabs her by the back of the head, moves the knife away, and forces her mouth to his bleeding wound.
Hesitantly, she licks the blood. Ezra almost groans, and she gets more confident in her blood sucking abilities.
I’m aware that outside the door at my back, there are probably still partygoers hanging out, wondering what’s going to become of the five girls that went inside. I’m aware that if I scream really loudly, they’ll hear me.
Maybe one of them will call the police.
Or maybe no one will.
And it’s that dread that keeps my mouth closed. It’s thinking that maybe those partygoers know what’s happening here.
When I force myself to look away, Lucifer is standing over me, and he has a knife too. I notice all the Unsaints are standing over their girls. I stare at Lucifer’s extended hand toward me. Okay, so maybe not everyone gets to drink the blood of the Unsaints…
Beside me, the redhead is still lapping up blood and Ezra groans again.
I want to get out of here. I take Lucifer’s hand, and he pulls me to my feet. I keep watching the knife. Thankfully, he puts it in his back pocket.
Ezra breaks out of his trance long enough to mutter to all the guys, “Nothing happens until the blood comes out.”
Lucifer nods, and then he leads me down the hallway, tugging me away from whatever fuckery is happening at my back.
The only thing I can think to ask is, “Why did we have to get on our knees?”
He glances at me, the corners of his mouth turning up into a smile. “Subservience,” he purrs.
I stop walking right as we come to the end of the hall and a closed metal door.
I yank out of his hand.
“Lucifer…”
He looks at me as he slides his hands into his pockets. He cocks his head. “Yes, Lilith?”
“What is happening right now? What is this shit?”
He takes a step closer to me, frowning. “My friends and I,” he begins, “we’re into some weird shit.”
I don’t know what to say to that besides, “I know.”
He wraps his hand around the back of my neck and pulls me gently into him. “Don’t run Lilith,” he whispers against my ear.
I don’t know why I ask my next question. Maybe it’s the vodka. Maybe it’s the rum I had before I left my apartment. Maybe it’s because I’m in a psych ward and I feel like I’ve lost my goddamn mind.
“Is that your baby?” I blurt out, wishing my voice didn’t shake when I said the words. Wishing I didn’t give a damn. Knowing that I shouldn’t give a damn. Why does it matter? There are way more fucked up things going on here.
He pulls away and I watch the vein in his neck, watch him swallow. He still has my neck in his hand, but he puts some space between us.
He bites his lip and I can’t look away from his mouth. I might actually start to believe he really is the devil himself. Because in this moment, I don’t care what comes next. I don’t think I’m going to try to walk away again.
“I don’t know,” he finally answers me.
I realize I’ve been holding my breath. Now, I exhale and frown, but I can’t bring myself to ask a follow-up question.
He shakes his head, straightens, but keeps a tight grip on me. His brow furrows, a curl falling over one brilliant blue eye.
Down the hall, back from the way we came, a girl moans.
“I don’t know,” he says again. He brings his other hand to my waist, his fingers digging into the fabric of my bodysuit, pinching my skin. He yanks me to him, and I catch myself on his chest, fingers splayed against him.
“What if it is, Lilith?” he asks me, his voice hoarse. I smell that scent that he seems to be made of: Cigarettes and pine. I relish in it. I’ve never smoked, never been drawn to smokers. I have no idea how bad his habit is, but right now, I don’t care
. Life is short. Mine was going to be especially short, nineteen years of wasted time. But if I get to the end of those nineteen years on a night like this, they might actually mean something.
“What if it is mine?” he asks me again, brushing his lips against my brow.
I shudder against him, and he pulls me in even tighter. It almost hurts. But I don’t want him to let go.
“Then it is,” I finally answer. “It won’t matter. It has nothing to do with me.” I meet his gaze. “It won’t matter because tonight, you’re not you, and I’m not me. You’re Lucifer. I’m Lilith. We own hell. We can own our own hells, too.”
That must be the vodka talking.
He tips my chin up.
“What if I want to be me? With you?”
I make to turn away, but he grips my face tighter, forcing me to meet his gaze.
But there’s things he doesn’t know about me. Things I clearly do not know about him. And this Lover’s Death shit…
And despite the fact that I just watched a man carve into his own skin and force a girl to drink his blood, I’m the one feeling insecure.
“You don’t want me,” I bite out. “Not the real me.” I don’t want to keep going down this path. I need to get the fuck out of here. But it’s like I’m frozen in place around him.
His face darkens. He’s angry. “Don’t tell me what I want, Lilith.” He tips my chin up further. “Don’t ever tell me what I want.”
“I’m not just a lonely girl looking for a one-night stand, Lucifer.” His grip doesn’t slacken, and my throat is pulled taunt, but I keep talking anyway, making myself get the words out. I don’t even know why it matters, but for some reason, it does. “It looks like you might’ve had enough of those,” I spit, nearly shaking. From anger, from lust, from what I’d planned to do tonight, I don’t know. “And so have I.” His eyes narrow. “I’ve had more one-night stands than you can possibly fucking imagine. I’ve had so many—”
He presses his hand against my mouth. Hard
“Stop talking.”
I part my lips, but he clamps down more, his fingers digging into the side of my face, his palm keeping my words in.
“I said Stop talking.”
I can feel him beneath my own hands on his chest, breathing hard, his heart hammering fast. But my anger rises up to meet his. I just watched a blood ceremony, the first I’ve ever seen, and yet he can’t listen to my sins. My confessions.