Page 46 of Wicked Believer (Original Sinner #2)

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Charlotte

What fresh hell is this?

I growl, lifting my head just enough to find Mia standing at the foot of our bed, a tablet in hand.

What. The. Fuck.

I glance to my left only to find Lucifer’s side of the bed looking pristine, which means he either didn’t come to bed or is already up for the morning and didn’t sleep. Again.

And me stepping off the edge of the building, asking for God to catch me, the cold arms that caught me somewhere halfway down, must have been—

All just a dream.

I flop back onto my sheets with a groan, using my bare arm to cover my eyes.

“Chop, chop.” Mia claps her hands in tandem. “We’ve got a tight schedule this morning.”

“ We? ”

When Lucifer told me he was going to be taking charge of my schedule yesterday, there was no mention of Mia and her freaking little tablet, not that there was much that could have made the moment worse, honestly. I remove my arm from my eyes, only to find she’s now standing over me.

How is it I’m only now realizing exactly how good at torture my future husband can be?

I throw back the sheets, and Mia’s eyes go wide at the sight of my naked body as I tear out of the bed toward the en suite to retrieve my bathrobe.

I’m still not exactly comfortable with my own nudity, or with others aside from Lucifer seeing me naked, for that matter, but I know for a fact becoming immortal has made me more polished around the edges than I was previously.

And I have every intention of shocking Mia as much as her being here has shocked me.

Along with that too-real dream.

“So, what are you doing here?” I ask.

She swallows, then shakes her head a bit, like the question somehow brings her back to herself. Her eyes return to my face. “Lucifer put me in charge of managing your schedule. Keeping you on track.”

“Oh, has he?” I lift a brow, wishing I felt more surprised than I do.

Of course he has.

He and I are going to have a little chat about that soon. We’re going to have a little chat about a lot of things.

“I don’t need a handler.” I turn on my heel and shut the en suite door in Mia’s face. Normally, I try to be as polite as possible to the staff, but Mia strikes some kind of annoying chord in me I can’t seem to put my finger on.

Plus, the slim possibility that she had some kind of previous relationship with Lucifer still makes me jealous as all get out.

When I emerge from the bathroom nearly an hour later, my hair freshly washed and styled to my satisfaction and my collar on, all thoughts of that awful dream are gone, but Mia’s still standing there, waiting for me.

“Apparently, you do,” she says.

“Do what?” I brush past her, heading for the closet.

“Need a handler.”

I sigh. “What are you talking about?”

“That’s what I’m here for, and thanks to you, I’m already failing miserably, considering you’re going to be late for training in”—she taps her tablet—“four minutes.”

My eyes go wide. “Shit!”

Lucifer made it abundantly clear when he emailed me my new schedule details yesterday—yes, emailed , don’t even get me started—that if I’m even one second late for anything he’s outlined for me, he’s going to punish me this evening.

While normally the idea would hold a bit of appeal, I’m still so annoyed about him making me wait until after I’m trained to tell me everything, I don’t want to give him the satisfaction.

Though a small part of me secretly loves what an overprotective bully he’s being.

I break into a run down the hall, heading for the stairs that lead to my wardrobe room, and to my surprise, Mia keeps pace with me, shoving a pair of workout leggings, a sports bra, and some underwear into my arms.

“Here,” she says.

Clearly, she came prepared.

I lift a brow, shocked that she did something almost ... nice for me? “Thanks, I guess?”

I stop where I am right in the middle of the hall and change into them—what does it matter now?—leaving my bathrobe abandoned on the floor. One of the maids will take care of it.

“Are your tits real?” she asks.

“Of course they are.” I glare at her as I wiggle on my leggings.

As soon as my clothes are on, I’m charging down the stairs, headed toward the first floor in hope of snagging a bite to eat, but Mia blocks me at the third-floor landing. “You don’t have time,” she shouts. “Get in there!”

The next thing I know I’m being half shoved, half tripped over Mia’s foot into the penthouse’s private training facility, the recessed lighting automatically flicking on overhead.

I stumble a few steps into the room, barely regaining my footing before I turn to face the empty space. I’ve only been in the training center a handful of times, but it’s basically Lucifer’s sanctuary when we’re not in the playroom together.

Not that I’m complaining.

His body and the results speak for themselves.

The space is empty, save for a few pieces of gym equipment, some potted plants, and a treadmill that sits not far from one of the penthouse’s several balconies. I blink, trying to push away the intrusive thoughts in my mind.

I have a distinct memory of racing past one of those balconies.

My body twisted against the wind in freefall.

But ... no memory of anything after that.

I shake my head a little. Weird.

I don’t think I’ve ever had a more vivid dream.

I ease closer to the balcony window, noticing that it looks like it’s ... snowing? I open the balcony door, stepping outside as I watch the steady downfall, but when I catch one of the flakes on my palm, I realize it isn’t snow.

It’s ash.

What the — ?

A sudden chill rushes through me as the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

What could have—?

“You aren’t going to jump again, are you?”

I jerk around to face the open training room just in time to see a swirl of gray smoke form into the man who’s now standing there.

A man I’ve never met before, except ...

“You.” The word’s out before I even mean to say it, but he doesn’t respond.

Instead, he slowly prowls forward, his eyes raking over me.

The man from the club. The In-Between.

The one who’s been haunting my dreams.

He’s real?

I take a small step back.

“How did you—”

“I reversed time,” he explains. “Put you to bed where you belonged.”

I gape, glancing between him and where the sky’s raining ash. I remember it all now, the memory returning like a rush of wind.

How he plucked my half-frozen body out of freefall.

How he held me in his arms as I fell apart.

Only to deposit me safely back into Lucifer’s bed before he placed a hand to my cheek and ...

The weight of the situation washes over me.

It wasn’t a dream. It wasn’t a dream after all, which means ...

Neither was the shock of lightning that split the sky on my way down, or the awful sound that followed. Like the whole world rumbled and shook.

I glimpse at the falling ash.

Which must mean . . .

The first seal is open.

My stomach drops, my adrenaline spiking as I struggle to breathe.

With no real thought for what I’m doing, I pull my phone from the pocket of my leggings. The morning’s headlines stare back at me.

The Day the Earth Shook: Global Quakes Leave Billions in Peril

I swipe through the coverage, each headline more terrifying than the last.

Hundreds of buildings. Countless people.

Pestilence will be free to ravage the world now.

A fresh wave of panic shoots through me. But despite the horror I feel, my mind still can’t fully comprehend it.

“Lucifer,” I breathe, making a move to dart around this new guy.

But he steps into my path, blocking me. “He’s fine,” he says. “Nothing but a little roughhousing between siblings.”

I sputter. “But he—”

I test the connection between us. At a distance it normally feels a bit thready, but now I can hardly feel it at all.

My jaw sets.

He did this. Lucifer and Michael.

But somehow that doesn’t stop my feeling of concern for him.

I have to believe he can change course.

That together we can fix this. Do what’s right.

“And what about the humans still stuck in the aftermath? Is he—”

“There’s nothing you can do for them now. Trust me.” My unknown savior’s expression turns grim, and despite that I have no reason to believe him, I feel more than understand what he means. “Lucifer said to tell you not to worry,” he says, like he can see right through me. “He’ll see you tonight.”

In the playroom.

Another chill rakes over me. I don’t know this man or his power from Adam, other than from my— ahem —vivid dreams about him, but he seems to know me. His power wraps around me, but instead of feeling foreign, it feels ...

Oddly familiar.

“Where have I—”

My words are cut short the moment his dark eyes meet mine. There’s something terrifying and uncanny about him, and it’s almost too much to take, though I can’t place my finger on why that is. Maybe it’s the current events.

The stench of humanity’s collective terror in the air.

I swallow, taking the whole of my strange savior in.

Where Lucifer is all sharp lines and trim edges, this man is rugged to his core.

Harsh angles, rough features, broad muscled shoulders, with long hair pulled back into a loose-hanging man-bun, which according to Jax either signals “self-obsessed narcissist” or “grade A douche,” but in this case, it’s seriously working for him.

Coupled with that divine body that looks like it was built for war . ..

My tongue darts out, wetting my lips.

Every inch of this guy is built, lethal ...

Except for his lips.

His lips are the only thing about him that appear soft.

Like they could destroy you slowly.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen a more perfect pair of lips on a man before.

And then there was that freaky skeletal mask I could have sworn I saw him wearing at the club that made my instincts stand on alert like I was prey. Not to mention the array of black tattoos down his arm are ...

My ovaries stand at attention.

I tear my gaze away, trying my best not to ogle him and feeling ashamed that I’m even capable of doing so, considering ...