Page 84 of Wicked Believer

Nothing but a blown-about pile of Lucifer’s stray sheet music and a few large white feathers remain, scattered across the floor. The chair Michael conjured lies on its side, the only other indication he was ever here in the first place.

Michael. The fucking archangel Michael.

The newfound leader of the apocalypse.

The false prophet.

“What the hell was that?” I round on Lucifer.

He tears from our bed like a man on a mission, refusing to look at me as he heads toward our closet. “None of it concerns you, Charlotte. Let me—”

“None of itconcernsme?” I shout, my heart racing as I follow him into the walk-in, where he’s now haphazardly buttoning his dress shirt. “At what point are you going to stop treating me like I’m a child?”

He rounds on me. “Perhaps when you stop behaving that way!”

We both freeze.

It’s the first time he’severraised his voice at me outside the playroom.

My hands start to tremble.

“You sounded just like him then.”

Lucifer lifts a brow. “My Father?”

I shake my head slightly. “No, mine.”

Lucifer swears under his breath, muttering to himself before he rakes a rough hand through his hair, then runs it down over his face, exhaling. “There are many things in this universe you know nothing about. Things of which—”

“So, tell me, then. Tell me, goddammit!”

Lucifer’s eyes darken with a quiet fury, his fists clenching and unclenching as he draws nearly nose to nose with me. “You barely survived the news of our being fated, and yetthisis how you want me to treat you? Like an equal? Like my queen?”

“Yes,” I snap. “Yes, I do,” I say, meeting him toe-to-toe.

Amber hellfire burns in his gaze, harsh and punishing. “I’m asking for you to trust me,” he says through gritted teeth, “for you to have faith in me, in us.” He reaches for me.

But I shake my head, stepping out of his reach.

“How could I?” I whisper. “How could you ask me that after all the ways you’ve lied to me?”

Lucifer swallows visibly, lowering his head so that it hangs from his shoulders as he places his hands on his hips. Finally, he looks skyward like he’s trying to find patience. Or praying.

If he were anyone else, I’d think that he was.

But I know better.

He presses his lips together, his nostrils flaring as he squares his shoulders, like he’s shoring up for the battle ahead. “All right, Charlotte. You win. You want to make me your villain? So be it.” His expression hardens, his entire body language shifting as the shadow of where his wings used to be is suddenly cast onto the wall behind him.

The change I see in him then is so immediate it ... terrifies me.

My blood runs cold.

This isnotthe Lucifer I know.

This is a Lucifer I’ve never met before.

The vicious king of Hell.