Page 8 of Pray for Scars

But when I do, I wished I’d stayed with Jeremiah. I wish I’d let him do whatever the fuck he wanted to me, so long as I didn’t have to look into Lucifer’s cold blue eyes right now.

My fingers tremble and I grip the knife tighter as he stares down at me, skeleton bandana pulled up to just underneath his eyes.

Beside him, Mayhem is his blonde twin, his eyes a shade lighter, the edges of his tattoo visible over the top of the bandana.

They’re both dressed all in black. Lucifer with a leather jacket over a black shirt.

He folds his arms. Cocks his head.

“I’ve been looking for you, Lilith,” he purrs, his voice a beautiful rasp. He steps closer, squats down so we’re almost eye-level. I can smell him. Cigarette smoke and pine, and it makes my heart fucking stutter in my chest.

I want to say something, but after everything with Jeremiah and all the vodka still in my veins, my lips part, and I’ve got nothing. Nothing to say. Nothing to think. Nothing to feel.

My hands shake so hard I’m scared I’m going to drop the knife.

I’m not even sure that I’m scaredofhim. I’m just scared of being around him. There are not the same things.

Lucifer’s eyes travel down my throat, over my cami, to the knife in my shaking hand. My sign of weakness.

His eyes crinkle a little, and I know he’s smirking at me.

“You look so beautiful,” he says softly, trailing his eyes back over my body, meeting mine again. “You’ll be the most beautiful corpse I’ve ever buried, baby girl.”

My eyes flick to Mayhem, but he’s got his arms crossed over his chest, and he’s staring at me impassively, almost bored. Like he’s ready for Lucifer to slit my throat so he can get back to his life.

Lucifer sees where I’m looking and he glances over his shoulder, then turns back to me. I hear a faint laugh leave his throat and he shakes his head. He pulls down the bandana, so it hangs around his neck, and I see his soft lips.

“Oh,” he whispers, leaning closer, until his eyes are inches from mine. “Did you think he might save you, Lilith?” His hand finds my bare knee, and I realize he’s wearing gloves, the fabric soft against my skin. I glance at them, see skeleton fingers embroidered over the top of them. “Did you think, because he fucked you, wrapped a belt around your throat like the dirty girl you are, that he might wanna help you out?”

My face heats with those words and I wonder if Mayhem told him, or if that’s just his MO.

Lucifer leans closer, until his full lips are close enough to brush against me when he says, “I know all of your secrets, Lilith.”

I hear my heart pounding in my head.

“I know all of your sins.” His mouth moves against mine, but he’s not kissing me. He’s still talking. His gloved hand moves up my thigh, and I can’t focus enough to flip the blade free of my knife. His hand clamps down on the crease of my thigh, his thumb brushing over the center of my shorts. “I know what’s happening in your fucked-up head right now, too, baby girl.” He slides my shorts aside, runs a gloved finger up and down my slit, over my underwear. I can feel his words against my lips as he pulls that aside too and his finger is on my clit.

I gasp, biting my lip, warmth flooding my core even in this cold forest.

He pulls back and smiles, a cold, cruel thing, the dimples in his pale skin momentarily flashing. “Do you want me to fuck you?” he asks me.

He turns to Mayhem again, just for a second, before his eyes find mine again. His finger circles my swollen clit, runs down the length of my slit, and another gasp escapes my traitorous lips.

“Do you want us both to fuck you, Lilith?” His other hand closes around my shaking one, the one with the knife. He pulls it from me, and I resist, but only for a second. Only for one second, and then he’s got the weapon.

The power.

But he’s always had both of those. Because when Lucifer is this close to me, I’m a fucking idiot.

He brings the hilt of the blade to my pussy, nudging my legs apart with his knee. Still circling my clit, he pushes the hilt into me, smiling as it slides in easily from my own wetness.

I can’t breathe, the cold metal making me clench. My hands curl into fists down at my side, but otherwise I can’t move.

“Tell me to stop,” he says softly, close to my face again.

My eyes close and I lean my head against the tree.

I don’t want him to stop.