by K. V. Rose
He’s also ready. For me.
I stare at his cock, taking in just how big it is with wide eyes and a small smile.
He grins at me, his eyes raking over my entire body, from my feet to my thighs, to that small scar that he had made, to between my legs, up my abdomen, roaming over my breasts. Finally, he meets my gaze again.
He bites his lip. “Are you ready, Lilith?” he purrs.
Every bone in my body is ready. Every muscle is coiled.
I nod.
“Are you mine?” he asks me, quieter, eyes still locked on mine.
My heart sinks a little at that question.
But still, I say the words he wants to hear. The words he needs to hear. “Yes. I’m yours, Lucifer.”
At his name on my lips, he pounces on me, the weight of his body warm and comforting and wild against mine. He strokes my bangs from my face, grinding himself against me.
I gasp, and he bites my bottom lip.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he says against my mouth, pressing himself against my thigh again. “You’re so fucking beautiful, Sid.”
I wrap my legs around him, bucking my hips, trying to get him there. Where I want him.
“And so eager, too, aren’t you?” he teases me, whispering the words against my throat.
“Yes,” I whisper. “Yes.” My hands go to his muscled back, and I dig my nails into his skin. He groans, then reaches between us, nudging my thighs apart with his hand.
He cups me, slipping one finger in, gently, and then another.
I moan, tightening against him.
“Tell me again,” he says against my throat, one hand around the back of my head, the other inside of me. “Tell me who you belong to.”
“You,” I say into his neck. “Always. It will always be you.” Lies. Beautiful lies.
“Say it, baby,” he urges me. “Say my name.”
I don’t give a damn that our makeup is smearing, that our plan is delayed, that this will be our last time. I don’t have to think about that right now.
“Lucifer,” I moan against his ear, and his fingers move deeper inside of me, his cock rock hard against my thigh. “I’m yours, Lucifer.”
He pulls back from me, taking his fingers with him, and trailing them up my stomach, over my breast, my nipple, my throat. He brings them to my lips.
“Open your mouth.” His voice is hoarse, and it sends a shock of want and need through me.
I do as he asks, tasting myself. Earthy and salty and sweet, and he meets my mouth, his fingers between us.
He groans, and bites down on my lip again, fresh blood seeping onto both of our tongues.
He leans back, reluctantly, as if he doesn’t want to be apart even for a second. But his fingers trail over my lips and back down my throat, and I move my hips under him, adjust myself, uncrossing my legs from his back, making room for him.
Looking down between us, biting his lip, he guides himself into me. Just a little at a time.
I gasp, my hand around his neck tightening, one around his bicep, my nails digging in. He glances up at me, his brow furrowed.
“Is this okay?” he asks me softly.
I nod, eager for the rest of him.
He pushes his way inside of me, and I relish in the feel of him. The fullness of him. I clench around him and he moans, whispering my name in my ear.
“Fuck, Sid,” he groans.
I gasp, wrapping my legs around him again, feeling every inch of him deep within me. This is what I’ve been waiting for. For a year, I thought I’d missed it. I thought he’d fucked me over, and I didn’t even have the memory of the two of us joined together. I thought he had tainted that forever.
But I didn’t miss it. It’s this.
This is us. We may never be this way again; we might never connect in this way again the rest of our lives. But I know I’ll never forget this.
He moves slowly at first, letting me adjust to him. But then his movements come faster and faster. He has one hand against the headboard, the other under my head, cradling me. He gazes down at me as he moves, his eyes searching over every inch of my face.
His own makeup is distorted, warped from my hands on him. There’s blood at the corner of his lip and I tilt my head up, pressing my lips against his as he moves. He groans again at the taste of me, the taste of us on our tongues.
He lifts his head up, breaking the kiss off, and he moves faster, slamming into me. I close my eyes tight, drowning in the sensation of him.
The headboard creaks against his hand, but he doesn’t stop. He slams harder into me, and then his movements become jerky.
“Open your eyes,” he commands. “Look at me.”
I do.
And I know why he does it. Why he doesn’t pull out. Mayhem doesn’t give a fuck about anything, but he didn’t do this.
But Lucifer does. And I know why.
I know why he empties himself into me without asking. I know he wants to keep me here. I know that, even though he hadn’t done what I thought he had, he’s still toxic. His feelings for me are still so many levels of wrong. I know that he wants to own me. He wants me to be his. I know he thinks that maybe if I have his child, he can keep me.
I know it, and I don’t say anything.
Instead I kiss his eyelids as he slows inside of me, as I clench my legs tighter around him. I trail those kisses down his nose, coming over his full lips. He opens his mouth to me, and I take from him, my tongue sweeping in as he stills. We break apart, reluctantly, and he presses his head against my chest, breathing hard.
I kiss his hair, run my hands through his soft black curls.
We’re coated in sweat and I’m coated in him.
I don’t care.
This will be the last time. I won’t have his child. But I don’t care. Because I want this too. Slowly, he eases himself out of me.
He gazes down at me, and he’s on all fours now over me, his eyes trailing down my breasts. He dips his head and swirls his tongue along one nipple and then the other. I arch my back, pressing into him, even though I’m aware the sun has set. Even though I know it’s only darkness outside now.
He runs his tongue down my stomach, letting his teeth scrape against me as he does. I watch his head go lower, until he flicks his tongue on my clit.
I gasp, breathing hard, my hands tangling in his hair.
He moves lower, his entire mouth on me. He doesn’t seem to care that he just spilled himself inside of me. He darts his tongue in anyway, then up my slit, flicking my clit again.
He moves that way, back and forth, groaning at the taste of me, until I feel it, that orgasm tightening in my core.
And when I come, moaning his name softly as I do, it feels like the world is finally giving me a piece of everything it’s ever owed me.
I say his name again and again, Lucifer, like a prayer. Like a confession. Like a secret.
When I’m done, my orgasm echoing through my body still, he lifts his head and gazes at me, smiling.
“I fucking love it when you say my name,” he says, and then he kisses my inner thigh, sucking my skin between his teeth. It’ll leave a mark. Just like when he came inside of me, he’s trying to brand me.
To keep me.
It’s like he knows he can’t.
He crawls up my body, and his lips find mine again.
We kiss each other until I think our lips will be bruised. When he finally pulls away, he runs a hand down my body, like he had that first night in the woods.
“You’re mine,” he whispers against my ear.
I smile, letting myself believe that lie. Letting myself savor him saying those words just one more time.
“Let’s go burn the world,” I murmur against his neck.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Halloween Night, Present
We don’t bother fixing our makeup. It looks more sinister this way, smeared around the edges, our teeth dragged into jagged fangs. The sockets of my eyes are warped, and Lucifer’
s makeup bleeds down his throat, down into the reaches of the hoodie he shucks back on.
We dress quickly, Ezra calling our name down below.
And then we head down, the knife back in my back pocket.
Mayhem grins at me when we come downstairs, all four of them sitting together on the couch in the living room. I notice they have guns, too.
“Have fun up there?” Mayhem asks, directing his question to Lucifer.
I feel my face heat but head for the door.
“Aw, don’t run off, Angel,” Mayhem calls after me. “Maybe someone else wants a turn—”
A fucking shot rings out in the living room, the sound of glass shattering. I whip my head around, my heart leaping into my chest. Lucifer is holding his gun, and it’s pointed at Mayhem. The window above the Unsaint’s heads has a fucking bullet hole in it.
“What the fuck?” I hiss.
Atlas tips his head back and laughs like this is a fucking joke.
Ezra rolls his eyes, Cain says nothing at all, and Mayhem’s eyes light like he’s just been challenged to a fucking shootout.
“Glad to see you got your balls back,” he drawls.
Lucifer puts his gun back on his hip. “Go fuck yourself.”
He really shouldn’t have said that.
“I didn’t have to, bro. Your girl did it for me.”
I groan and they look to me, all except Lucifer, who is still staring at Mayhem as if he might actually shoot him this time. “Can we not?” I snap.
“You know what, bro,” Lucifer says, his lips twitching into a smile. “I’m going to see your sister tonight.” I think I know where this is going, and I tense. Mayhem’s smile is gone. “And when I do, I’ll be sure to pay you back for everything you owe me.”
Mayhem’s lip curls and he stands to his feet.
“What the fuck?” I hiss. I mean, I know this was really over before it could even begin, but did he really have to say that right now?
Lucifer looks at me, and his expression is still angry. “If you can have your fun…” he shrugs. “I can have mine, right?”
Atlas snickers. “I mean, he’s got a point, Sid…”
I shake my head. “Can we just go?”
All the Unsaints are standing now. I rake my eyes over them and shake my head. “No, you guys cannot come. My brother won’t let us in if—”
“This is our payback, too,” Ezra says quietly.
I’m quiet a moment, thinking. I can’t argue with that. I don’t want to argue with it. I just shake my head, throw up my hands, and head for the door.
We walk to an empty parking lot of Raven Park in silence, and I slide into Lucifer’s M5. Mayhem gets in his grey McLaren, and Ezra, Atlas, and Cain get in the Range Rover.
We drive to the Rain mansion.
I know my brother will want to kill the Unsaints as soon as he sees them, but he won’t if I tell him not to. I also know he’ll be at the mansion. He knows what night it is. I hope to God he’s drowning in the misery of his own crimes.
There’re guards stationed at the gates when the three overpriced cars pull up. We get out, and my brother’s guards draw their guns on us, but I step right up to them, glaring.
“Let me see my brother,” I spit out, even though that last word tastes wrong on my tongue.
The guard on my side blinks at me, as if he’s surprised. He tosses a glare at the Unsaints.
“Not with them.”
Atlas laughs and Mayhem whistles.
I step closer to the guard, even though he’s got a good half a foot on me. He actually backs up. Atlas laughs again.
“Now.”
The guard looks annoyed. But then he nods. I see him speak into the mic on his collar, and the gates open up.
I’m surprised, as we get back in our cars and drive up the paved driveway, that the lawn has been decorated. There’re pumpkins among the bushes, white, paper ghosts swaying from the trees. As we pull up to the gargoyle fountain, I see someone has placed a Jason mask over his face.
Tonight, Jeremiah made an effort. It only serves to make me angrier. Because he knows me. God, he knows me, even if I don’t want him to. Even if I loathe him for it. Even if he knows far too much. More than a brother should.
Lucifer puts the car in park.
We get out, slamming the doors in unison, and I face the Unsaints, squaring my shoulders. This vengeance is mine. I know they’ve been betrayed too, but this is mine to take.
Lucifer puts my hand on my shoulder before I have to make that clear. “You get the shot.”
The other Unsaints, shocking me, nod, although their jaws are all clenched, and they don’t look like they’d hesitate to gut my brother from ass to mouth.
It’s the most I can ask for though, this statement from Lucifer. I incline my head and turn around. We stride past the gargoyle fountain, the guards on alert at the automatic doors. But they don’t stop us. They don’t even search us. They move aside and let us in.
I know those are my brother’s orders.
Because I don’t need to know his hideouts or his habits to know where he is. I don’t need to know any of that. He’s waiting for me. And it only just occurs to me as the Unsaints and I stand side-by-side in the foyer that perhaps I’m walking into a trap. That perhaps Jeremiah is sorry for what he did, but not sorry enough to let me get my anger out.
But he isn’t in the foyer.
Nicolas is. And Brooklin.
She’s behind him.
I hear Mayhem’s breath catch, but he doesn’t move toward her. Her eyes, however, are locked on her brother’s.
And I’m shocked that my brother has left her here, with only Nicolas for protection. Aside from the guards outside, past the automatic doors, there are no others in here that I can see.
Nicolas’s gaze goes over the Unsaints, over me, looking for weapons. I know he knows we have them, even though they’re tucked away.
I notice the foyer is decorated for Halloween, too. There’s even a fake orange tree nestled in one corner of the vast room, spiders and black cats and white, ghostly garland hanging around it. There are no presents beneath it.
No.
Jeremiah is my present, whether he knows it or not. Whether he expects to be or not.
Brooklin is dressed as a kitten, in a pale pink top and dark grey pants, grey and pink cat ears on her head, a nose with whiskers drawn expertly across her scared face. She’s still watching Mayhem, those blue eyes sharp on his.
Nicolas isn’t dressed for Halloween. He’s wearing black jeans, a white shirt. His arms are crossed, and he doesn’t bother hiding the gun at his hip.
“Where’s my brother?” I’m the first one to speak. Beside me, I know Mayhem is staring at his sister. Trying to unnerve her. It seems to slowly be working. She begins to shift from one black heeled bootie to the other.
Nicolas uncrosses his arms, clasps his hands behind his back. He looks down at the sparkling floor. “He’s waiting for you.”
That surprises me.
I expected Nicolas to try to talk me out of whatever he thinks I might do. But my brother always did try to one up me. Try to scare me. I’m not exactly surprised that that’s what he’s trying to do now.
“Where?” I ask Nicolas, my question cold. I won’t show him that surprise.
Nicolas dips his chin and jerks his head in the Unsaints’ direction. “They can’t come with you.”
“Then my brother can’t see me.”
It’s really that simple. I might not have wanted them to come at first, but now that they’re here, there’s no way I’ll leave them alone with Nicolas. I know it’s stupid, to think they can’t take care of themselves, but I want them with me. Or at least, I want Lucifer with me. Besides, something is up. Brooklin is still shifting foot to foot, and Mayhem hasn’t stopped glaring at her. I’m thankful. I need someone else to be uncomfortable in this room.
And despite what he’s done, despite lying to me and covering for my brother, Nicolas seems completely u
nruffled.
He sighs through his nose. “Look Sid, you have to understand that your brother is not in a good place right now—”
Before I even have time to let that anger tighten around me, to let Nicolas’s words sink in, Lucifer moves. He draws his gun and fires it, right at Nicolas’s feet. Nicolas roars, jumping, covering his head with his hands.
The shot rings in my ears.
But the Unsaints aren’t done.
Mayhem shoots this time, another bullet into the floor, and he lunges for Nicolas. He flips the gun in his hand, drops it, and brings his fist across Nicolas’s face before Nicolas has time to reach for his own gun. Behind us, I hear the guards from outside the door rushing in, shouting at Mayhem to stand down. But I whirl around, spreading my arms wide, shielding Mayhem with my own body.
Brooklin screams, and I draw the knife from my pocket, flicking the clasp on the blade to unleash it.
“If you don’t shut your fucking mouth,” I growl to Brooklin without looking at her, “I will slit your goddamn throat.”
Mercifully, she stops screaming.
The guards have their guns drawn. They’re all dressed in black, with what I know to be bulletproof vests on.
“Drop your weapons,” I command them.
They stare at me, unmoving.
Behind me, Mayhem is snarling at Nicolas.
“You fucking piece of shit,” he hisses, his voice the only one in the foyer. “You dare tell her that Jeremiah is going through a lot? That piece of scum fucked her over and you. Did. Nothing.” With each word, I heard his fist slam against Nicolas’s head. Nicolas murmurs something, and I can tell without looking behind me that he’s stunned.
Lucifer hasn’t said a word. But suddenly, the guards tense, and Brooklin whimpers.
I glance over my shoulder.
Lucifer has a knife held against her face. I didn’t even know he had a knife.
I smile at him. He smiles back, but his brilliant blue eyes are cold.
Mayhem glances at his sister held at knifepoint, but says nothing. He knows Lucifer won’t cut her. But no one else does.