Page 37 of These Monstrous Ties

I stiffen. I didn’t expect that. Nicolas had been wrong. He knows where I am.

Does he know who Jeremiah is to me?

I shake my head. “No,” I answer him honestly.

“Put the gun down.” A command.

“No.” A defiance. Because I’m done with people telling me what to do tonight. Nicolas, my brother, now Lucifer.

I want to do this my way. And that iswiththe gun in my hand.

Lucifer rasps a laugh. Then his fingers curl around my throat. He slowly increases the pressure until I can’t breathe. His fingers dig into the bruises already there, from my brother and Kristof.

A whimper escapes my lips without my permission. I don’t want to show any weakness in front of him, not after the year I’ve spent pining over the boy who left me in the asylum. But the bruises hurt. My face burns.

Lucifer’s hand stills, and he lets up on the pressure, but he doesn’t let go. “You didn’t hurt that easily a year ago, Lilith,” he purrs.

I don’t dare breathe. I can’t draw air into my lungs. The woods are so dark, I feel as if I’m in a dream. This might not even be real. But a cool wind blows through the trees, rattling branches, and I snap back to reality.

This is my life.

I’m in Lucifer’s arms, once more. And I have the disadvantage, once more.

Before my mind can catch up with reality, Lucifer spins me around, and takes the gun from my hand. And I let him. My fingers don’t work quickly enough to stop him. Suddenly, he holds the weapon. But then again, he’s always held the weapon.

He lets me go, takes a step back from me.

Then arms fold around me, strong and firm and even before I hear his deep voice, I know it’s Ezra. He whispers in my ear, “Did you miss us?”

And I gasp, struggling against his grip.

He holds firm and all the while, Lucifer just watches.

“What the fuck?” I hiss to both of them, trying to twist my head, to see Ezra’s massive form behind me. But he isn’t budging. I stop trying to fight, save that for when I can run away.

“Lucifer,” I nearly plead.

I can see his midnight blue eyes blazing in the night, and a lock of curly black hair falls over his brow, from beneath his hood. He wears a black hoodie, like I do, and fitted black jogging pants. But it isn’t any of that that makes my breath catch in my throat.

It’s his skin.

His face.

We’re still close enough to share breath, even if we aren’t touching. And I realize this is the first time I’ve ever seen his skin. Before, he’d had on the makeup. But now…his skin is pale, made more so by the night. His jawline is defined, cheekbones nearly hollow. He’s beautiful.

He’d been beautiful that night, too, but disguised.

And as his eyes roam over my own face, coming to rest on my lips, I realize he’s seeing me, too, for the first time without the pale makeup I’d worn that night.

His full lips curve into a smile. They’re pale pink, his top one slightly bigger than the bottom. They’re beautiful. They’re dangerous. Just like him.

He holds the gun loose at his side, but I’m acutely aware of it.

And then his eyes go past my lips, and his expression changes. He raises the gun, his arm bent at the elbow, the barrel pointing at the canopy above us. He’s frowning, and his eyes are narrowed, his jaw locked.

The hand not holding the gun goes to my throat again, and I wince, ready for him to squeeze. Ezra senses my movements because he tightens his grip around me.

But Lucifer doesn’t squeeze my throat. He brushes his fingers lightly against my skin, making goosebumps rise down my arms.