Page 56 of Wicked Believer

Out of the corner of my eye, something slithers between the pew aisles beside us, drawing my attention, and a moment later, the church’s heavy double doors fly open as if they weigh nothing at all, their deafening bang against the walls echoing through the sanctuary.

Lucifer stands in the doorway, his silhouette backlit so that he looks like an avenging angel made of shadow. Darkness embodied.

“Charlotte,” he grumbles, curling a single finger toward me.

Beckoning me. Like I’m his to command.

I can tell by the tone of his voice and the connection between us that he’s furious with me, though whether it’s because I slipped my security detail and ran, or out of concern for how careless I was with my own safety, I can’t be certain.

Nodding, I immediately stand, knowing better than to disobey him right now, only to find that Father Brown does the same beside me.

He turns and looks toward Lucifer, and if he feels any hint of judgment or disgust at the fallen angel that stands before him, it isn’t visible.

“Sammael.” He nods in greeting.

I stiffen, my gaze volleying between the two men, Lucifer’s head quirked to the side as he looks at the priest curiously.

“No one has called me that for a very long time,” he says slowly.

“Allow me to be the first this century, then.” Father Brown smiles. Surprisingly, he turns toward me, giving Lucifer his back as if he’s unafraid. “You’re welcome here any time, Charlotte.”

I nod. “Thank you,” I manage, my eyes darting to Lucifer before I step away from the pew. “For everything.”

Hastily, I hurry to Lucifer’s side.

Lucifer wraps his arm around my waist, tucking me into him easily. “Father.” He inclines his head, smirking irreverently at the priest’s title, but it’s the amused look in the priest’s eye as he says it that—

Without warning, a sharp tugging sensation pulls at my navel like I’m clay being bent and molded, collapsed and reformed, and the next thing I know I’m standing inside the penthouse, completely whole again, Lucifer beside me.

Holy shit.

“What in the bloody hell were you thinking?” Lucifer growls, releasing me only to tear his already loosened tie off as he starts to pace. “Running off like that? You could have been killed. You could have been—”

The sight of my quivering chin stops him, like he’s momentarily at a loss for words.

“Charlotte,” he mutters.

I nearly collapse onto the floor, Lucifer catching me as silent tremors begin to shake my whole body.

“They killed her,” I whisper, my voice so strained with emotion I can hardly speak.All those people. All those people.“They killed her because of me.”

“You arenotresponsible for their sins,” Lucifer whispers feverishly into my hair, holding me together. “Trust me. I speak from experience.”

He pulls me closer. Like if he holds me tight enough, he might be able to keep me from breaking. But my heart is already cracked open, flayed down the middle.

I’m not sure what it is about his reassurance that sends another fresh wave of grief rolling through me, but the pained whimper that escapes me seems to soften him all the same.

Lucifer folds me into his arms, cradling me up and onto his chest, so he can carry me to our room. He gently deposits me onto our bed a few moments later, sitting on the edge of the mattress beside me as he combs his fingers through my hair.

“I will do whatever it takes to be worthy of you, little dove. This I swear to you.”

I don’t know what it is about the way he says it, but the idea that he still thinks he’s unworthy of me, of my love, after everything we’ve been through, only manages to make my shoulders shake even harder.

“Shh. Shh.” He hushes me. “Rest now,” he whispers, comforting me until the last of my tears have been wrung from my body. “Leave their punishment to me.”

And I do.

My lids grow heavy as they droop shut, trusting that no matter the fallout, in his own cruel way, he’ll always take care of me.