Page 8 of Wicked Believer

Lucifer grips my face in one mud-covered hand, forcing me to look at him.

His suit is ruined, just like my dress, but somehow, with his hair tousled and covered in grime like this, he looks even more stunning.

“Don’t hold back now. I killed your father, after all.” He smiles viciously. “Aren’t you angry with me?”

His expression is like a kick to the gut for how it knocks the wind out of me. The way he says it is so cold, so remorseless, that even though Iknowhe’s trying to provoke me, I can’t help the sudden rage that sparks inside me. Rage that’s been building.

Even as my eyes fall to his lips.

A gnarled tangle of emotions twists inside my chest. Every awful, terrible thought I’ve been holding inside myself. Though what I can’t begin to understand is why.

Why is he coaxing them out of me?

“No,” I lie, shaking my head and trying to force the feeling back down.

Like the good girl I’m supposed to be.

Good Christian girls do not get angry. Good Christian girls smile through the pain.

Like my mother.

Even when we’re dying . . .

“No.” I shake my head, denying it. “No, I’m not.”

“Don’t lie to me,” Lucifer hisses, using his shadows to shackle me in place. “You’re furious with me. You have been for weeks.”

It’s the truth, and we both know it, but I refuse to admit it.

To him, most especially.

His eyes narrow. “But what I want to know is why.”

I turn my face away from him, unwilling to meet his gaze, but Lucifer only chuckles before he forces my chin toward him and kisses me, stealing my breath and my focus. The feeling of his mouth on mine undoes me, his kiss knocking me off guard. He breaks his lips away from mine only moments later, leaving me breathless and panting with pleasure, before he whispers, “Or perhaps it’s your lost humanity that has you furious with me.”

“I haven’t lost my humanity,” I mumble against him without thinking.

A spark of hellfire lights in his gaze. Like a shark that’s scented blood.

And that’s when I know he has me.

“Haven’t you?” he purrs, gripping my chin even tighter, his fingers smearing a mixture of mud and dirt all over my face. “Or perhaps what truly infuriates you is that you wish it was you who’d killed him, instead of me?”

My breath rushes out of me like a force.

And whatever denial was poised on my lips dies instantly as his other hand, wiped clean on the inside of his suit coat, finds that delicious spot between my legs and parts me. I arch into him, a fresh round of anger sending my pulse racing at how thoroughly he’s able to play me, almost as if he’s called my desire forth to taunt me. His grip on me tightens, his thumb circling my clit as his fingers thrust into me. But I won’t let him win that easily.

Not without a fight, at least.

Without warning, I thrash violently, attempting to wriggle and writhe my way out of his hold as he continues to finger me, but my resistance only seems to fuel his enjoyment.

“That’s it.” Lucifer’s fang-laden smirk widens as I fruitlessly attempt to escape him. But I don’t use my safe word, and to my surprise, he lets me nearly manage to get away before one of his hands clamps around my ankle like a vise and pulls, and before I can stop him, he’s dragging me back toward him, crawling up the length of my body.

I kick out my other foot, unexpectedly catching him hard in the mouth. Harder than I would’ve ever thought possible.

I gasp as Lucifer goes still.

Oh God. He’s going to kill me.