Page 39 of Wicked Believer (Original Sinner #2)

Chapter Thirty-Four

Charlotte

After I’m done emptying the contents of my stomach into the drained pool, I manage to sneak into the penthouse undetected with a few drunken promises from Azmodeus that I’ll hear from him about mine and Lucifer’s engagement party in the coming days.

That night, I dream I’m back in the club again.

Yet instead of Azmodeus dancing with me, it’s that handsome stranger.

The man from the edge of the dance floor, his lethal-looking body pressed against me, his hands sliding lower until ...

I wake with my own hand down my pants, touching myself. I gasp, mortified by what I’m doing, and roll over, burying my face in my pillow with a groan.

What is wrong with me?

It isn’t until my alarm clock goes off a few hours later and I get through my morning routine without interruption from Lucifer or one of his senior staff that I’m naive enough to think I might have actually gotten away with mine and Azmodeus’s little stunt.

But the moment I arrive at Apollyon headquarters, feeling like I’m on top of the world, Jeanine informs me that Lucifer’s summoned me to his office before I even have a chance to look at today’s headlines, and my triumph is abruptly ripped out from under me.

“What in the bloody fuck were you thinking?”

I don’t have time to settle into my seat across from his desk before he shoves one of this morning’s tabloids at me. “Read it,” he says, his voice surprisingly calm when I refuse to look toward the glossy magazine heading.

I hesitate.

“I said, fucking read it, Charlotte,” he snarls, more animal than I’ve ever heard before. Like the red devil with the tail and horns you see in the movies.

Though now that I know about his current arrangement with Michael, the full truth of him is so much worse, so much more terrifying.

I follow the command without question, lowering my eyes so I’m forced to read the headline in front of me.

Lucifer Cuckolded! By His Own Brother? The Devil Is in the Details!

Followed by a full front-page spread of Azmodeus and me grinding together on the dance floor. Like I was with that stranger in my dream.

I snatch up the tabloid, staring at the photo of what I thought was a celestial-only space, some other dimension.

Apparently, the club was more human than I gave Az credit for. Or was it?

How the hell did they even get this picture?

I guess pretty much anybody can be a paparazzo these days, considering there’s not a person I know who doesn’t have twenty-four seven access to a high-quality digital camera in their pocket.

I throw the magazine back onto the desk, casting a pleading glance toward Lucifer. “It’s not what you think.”

The words are out before I can stop them, the tension thickening, and the worst part is they don’t feel entirely truthful with how guilty I am about that dream. But it was just a dream.

There’s no harm in fantasy, right?

Pain sparks in the back of my throat as I lower my head slightly.

My fault, that thing inside me hisses. My fault, my fault, my fault.

I shake my head.

No, not my fault.

This time I was only doing what I thought was right. What I could to save humanity.

And blowing off steam. The rest was the influence of Az’s powers.

Wasn’t it?

“I will leave that cliched admission of guilt where it belongs inside your head, little dove,” Lucifer says coolly, rounding the far side of his desk like he—

“You ... you heard that?” I stammer. “Wh-what I was thinking?”

Lucifer has the audacity to look almost annoyed with me. “I can only hear what you direct at me, but I’ve been privy to your thoughts for some time now. Get with the program.”

My stomach drops.

“But I . . . I thought . . .” My voice trails off.

My whole plan banked on the fact that he couldn’t see inside my head. It was an advantage I had, one of the few things that helped make him fall in love with me, but that was back when I was human.

Now I’m something else.

Fully. Completely.

Despite all the ways I tried to resist it.

I press my lips together, my lack of emotion making my limbs feel heavy.

The way I mindlessly attacked that paparazzo should have been evidence enough.

Lucifer watches me for a long beat, his fingers steepled, his distant expression revealing nothing. But what exactly has he heard me think?

If it’s about what I send to him, I can still pull this off, right?

I just need to tread carefully.

“The other night in the playroom?” I tilt my head toward him, watching him intently as I finally put two and two together. “Those were your thoughts I heard, weren’t they?”

Lucifer doesn’t answer me.

But his silence is answer enough.

This is a two-way street.

And until now, he had no intention of telling me I had access to it.

I have to bite the inside of my cheek to fight down my frustration.

“Open it.” He nods toward the tabloid.

I shake my head. I don’t want him to be able to see or hear what I’ve been planning, and I’m not exactly well-versed in how this mind-to-mind-connection thing works yet. “There’s nothing in there that I want to—”

“I said, open it.” He doesn’t raise his voice, but the effect the order has is the same.

My blood runs cold, my mouth feeling drier than the Sahara.

Team Apocalypse: 1. Team Humanity: 0.

With shaking hands, I open the magazine to the corresponding page, trying my best not to send anything along the connection between us, but I have no idea if I’m even doing it correctly.

More stolen moments. More pictures of me and Az.

All put on display to sell a lie. A gossip story.

Each piece of fake news more and more damning than the last.

“It’s not what you think,” I repeat, suppressing the bitterness I feel at the fact he would ever dare question my loyalty.

It doesn’t matter that I’m working against him to stop the apocalypse now or that I enjoyed my stupid dream.

I’m doing this for us both , even if he can’t see it yet.

“I would never betray you, Lucifer. You know I—”

“Spare me the excuses, Charlotte.” He lifts a hand to silence me.

Is that all my love is to you? An excuse?

I try and send the thought down the line between us intentionally, and now that I’m aware of it, I can feel the exact moment it lands. His frustration with me flares.

I close my mouth, swallowing repeatedly.

But if he knows what I’m actually planning, how I’m attempting to undermine him and Michael, he doesn’t let onto it.

It’s not a betrayal. Or that’s what I tell myself.

It’s a desperate plea for his mercy, to save humanity.

Isn’t it?

“I know you’re not fucking my brother.” He says it so artlessly, so confident and brazen that I cringe. “You’re not that kind of whore.”

I flush deep.

He means to humiliate me. To remind me of my place.

I deserve as much for the way I’ve behaved, honestly.

I draw a slow, fortifying breath in and out through my nose. “Then if you know none of its true, then why am I—”

“I told you to leave my family to me.” He tosses a dossier he and his shadows materialize out of thin air onto the table in front of me. This time, he doesn’t have to order me to open it. I flip back the cover readily.

The contents reveal several more photos of me and Az.

Me throwing the water bottle at the paparazzo.

Me kicking the man while he was down, his blood on the spike of my heel.

And the most damning yet ...

Azmodeus holding me over his shoulder as we step into the ether, into what appears in the photo to be a black endless hole for all humanity to see.

I’d almost think it was photoshopped if I didn’t know any better.

“I don’t think I need to tell you what it would have meant for us, considering the ongoing investigation into your actress’s death, if I hadn’t paid to have this particular story killed in favor of this drivel.” He swipes his hand across the desk, sending the dossier plummeting to the floor.

I tense.

“Olivia,” I mumble, correcting him.

Her name comes out as barely a whisper.

“Pardon?” Lucifer quirks a brow.

“You called her my actress .” I lift my gaze toward him, unchecked defiance rising in me. “Her name was Olivia.”

Lucifer stiffens, his jaw tightening. “Be that as it may, if photos of this had gotten out, the information we’ve been keeping secret would have been leaked. Imagine the speculation. The public would finally have ascertained that you’re an—?”

“An immortal?” I snap. “Some kind of half-human freak?”

Lucifer goes still at my sudden outburst, but I don’t stop there. Every doubt, every insecurity I’ve been feeling spills out of me.

“Not a fallen angel. Not a demon. Not a human, but something else in between? An abomination of nature? Is that what you were going to say?”

“I’ve told you time and time again not to put words in my mouth. My patience with you runs thin and—”

“Your patience with me?” I nearly laugh, the idea is so ridiculous.

“What about my patience with you , Lucifer? I’m tired of being told to sit on the sidelines.

” I slam my hand onto his desk, glaring at him.

“You told me you were handling the apocalypse. You could have told me what you were planning, but instead all you’ve done is—”

“Enough, Charlotte,” he growls, the blaze of hellfire in his eyes instantly silencing me. “I will not entertain this self-pitying human thinking any longer. Do I make myself clear?”

I clench my teeth, muttering from between them, “Crystal.”

“As the head of this family and your future husband, it is my responsibility to ensure your safety, which means—”

“I was perfectly safe,” I argue. “I’m immortal now, and Azmodeus was with me. If anything had happened, he would have—”

Lucifer stands, leaning over his desk, before he suddenly yanks me forward by my collar so that we’re nose to nose. “If you think for even a second that my lust-crazed brother would have sacrificed himself for you, think again.”

Abruptly, he releases me, and I shake my head, my gaze unfocused as I look away from him. “I’m immortal now. I don’t see why it—”