Page 47 of Wicked Believer (Original Sinner #2)

I glance to where the sky continues to rain ash.

Tattoos are just that. Body art. Nothing more, nothing less.

Except for mine. I glance down at the new snake on my wrist. Lucifer has several.

A few black angelic runes and sigils that creep over his chest and shoulders, sometimes peeking through his shirt collar when his tie hangs loose, though they’re nothing like this.

Nothing that makes him look like he’s unfit for polite society.

Though I know exactly how much of an animal Lucifer can be.

He’s just light-years better at concealing it than this guy.

I glance down at the headlines still glaring on my phone.

“Who are—”

“I ask the questions here.” My stranger starts to circle, like a tiger stalking its prey, and I think I see a flash of that skeletal face again.

But it can’t be.

I jerk back. “Excuse me?”

“What were you doing on the roof yesterday?” he asks, his deep, graveled voice vibrating through me.

Like he actually expects me to answer.

I gape at him. “I don’t think that’s any of your business.”

“I’d say it is, considering it was me you were flirting with.”

“Flirting with?”

Who does this guy think he is?

“Death,” he says, reading my expression easily. A flash of that skeletal face shows.

No nose. Hollowed eyes. Shadowed bones. Exposed teeth.

There and gone in a blink.

No, it couldn’t be. I shake my head.

“Tell me that’s some kind of biker name,” I plead.

He’s built like a biker, or those hot actors who play one on TV, anyway, if you put him in a leather cut.

He doesn’t answer as he continues to circle me like he’s taking in the full measure of my worth and he’s unimpressed by what he sees.

“Looked your fill yet?” I cross my arms, the bit of fear and the remaining adrenaline at the sight of all that ash raining from the sky coursing through me.

He comes to a stop, his cold eyes still watching me. “No.”

I blush, looking away quickly. I don’t have time for this.

“I need to go make some calls. Use Apollyon’s resources to try and help. I need to—”

“I already told you, it’s too late for them,” he says, like he feels nothing for the billions of people who are now displaced, in danger, or worse, dead. “If you want to help them, your time is best spent here.”

I eye him skeptically. I don’t know why I choose to believe him, but some base, primal part of me tells me he wouldn’t lie to me.

I can’t say the same for Lucifer.

“So, you’re my new trainer then?” I ask weakly.

“More of a watchdog,” he grumbles.

“And what’s your actual name?”

“Azrael.”

“Azrael?” I repeat.

Something in my mind clicks into place.

Azrael. Angel of—

Death.

My spine runs cold.

He really is Death.

I stagger a little, the ground beneath me suddenly unsteady. “Are you ... one of Lucifer’s siblings?”

He chuckles like I’ve just said something amusing. “Not even close.” He stalks around me then, watching me the same way I’m watching him.

If looks could kill—and maybe his can?—I’d definitely be dead right now, based on how he’s glaring at me, but then I remember how unexpectedly gentle he was when he cradled me in his arms, allowed me to fall apart against him before he used his powers to cloud my memory, and I can’t help but wonder if . ..

No. No, of course not.

Though he’s definitely as beautiful.

I swallow, sinking into the distraction his presence provides from the chaos around me.

Holy smokes.

A thin white scar cuts through his right eyebrow, severing it in two, and I’m almost ballsy enough to ask him how he got it, but then I open and close my mouth a few times, like my brain can’t seem to find the right words, until finally ...

“We already have an Az,” I mutter lamely, my thoughts turning to the drunk party-girl antics he witnessed the other night.

My face flames with heat.

I don’t like the idea of this guy seeing me that way. And that’s twice now he’s seen me at my worst.

Three if you count—

“You came to retrieve me, after Mark killed me.” It’s a statement, not a question.

He’s who’s been haunting my dreams.

Those cold, deathly arms wrapped around me were his.

And sometimes . . .

My blush deepens.

He huffs like he thinks it’s pathetic that I’m just now putting two and two together.

So, Azrael has saved me more than once then.

Or held on to me when Lucifer couldn’t, anyway.

I shake my head. “Wait. Hold up. So, if you’ve been there all those times, have you ... have you been stalking me?” I gape at him.

He watches me for a long beat. “And if I was?”

I open my mouth only to snap it shut again.

I don’t have any idea how to answer that.

“Why didn’t you let me fall?”

I wish I could take the words back the moment they leave me. The way his eyes darken like he’s daring me to ask anything further sends a delicious chill through me. “It wasn’t your time.”

“But it’s theirs?” I ask, furiously gesturing out the window.

I feel my face heat at how weirdly intimate his answer seems. What is wrong with me? I haven’t felt this out of control, this unable to stop myself since ...

Since I first met Lucifer.

I blow out a low breath.

Death makes me feel things I shouldn’t.

A bit of fear, and also ...

I swallow.

How fucked up is that?

I tear my gaze away from him then, refusing to look at him for another second.

I’m loyal to Lucifer.

No matter how much of a villain he’s been lately.

I may have sold my soul to the Devil, but I am not stupid enough to fuck around with Death.

Am I?

“You can call me Death. Or sir, take your pick,” Azrael says as he pulls out one of the training mats.

Apparently, he’s just as bossy as Lucifer is, but in a less demanding way. Like he doesn’t feel the need to show any overt dominance to get me to listen.

He just expects me to be a good girl and behave.

“There’s only one person I call sir .” I step onto the mat, lifting my eyes to his in challenge.

“Did this work on him?” He huffs, that skeletal face flashing again. Am I imagining that? I can’t be. He quirks his scarred brow at me. “The bratty submissive bit?”

An embarrassed flush fills my cheeks.

I shake my head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He smirks, his eyes falling to my collar. “I think you do.” He watches me, his irises such a piercing, almost white shade of blue it feels like he could see into my soul.

Maybe he can . . .

He is Death after all.

I feel his power like it’s sucking up all the air inside the room. Where Lucifer’s is more of a devious, fleeting caress—a controlled, licking, lapping, teasing—Azrael’s is more ... all consuming.

Like if I allowed myself to get lost in it, it would suffocate me.

I’ve never experienced its equal.

But if he’s not an angel and not a demon, then ...

What is he?

I’m almost impulsive enough to ask him, but before I can manage to get any of the words out, he says, “Eyes on me,” and without warning, my feet are knocked out from under me.

I tense, prepared for my back to slam down onto the mat, but what feels like a large pair of cool invisible hands catches me, holding me suspended about a foot away from the floor.

Azrael stares down at me, shaking his head.

“Hey, celestial paws off, asshole!” I snap.

Azrael quirks a brow. “Suit yourself.”

Abruptly, I drop to the thin mat and let out an annoyed groan. It smarts worse than I expected, considering I was only a few inches from the floor. The training room is hard wood over concrete. Azrael doesn’t move from where he stands over me.

He definitely has the ego of a fallen angel. Or something else maybe.

“You’re weak. No surprise there.”

“Gee, thanks, asshole.”

“It’s Death or—”

“Sir,” I finish for him. “I remember.”

Those cold irises seem to bore into me.

He offers his hand, but I shove it aside, stumbling to my feet as I level a pissed-off glare at him, doubling over to catch my breath.

His eyes narrow in kind.

“Lucifer’s little siren,” he purrs, shaking his head as he advances.

I put out my hand to stop him from coming any closer, but abruptly, he uses it to yank me upright. I tumble forward so that the heat of his mouth brushes next to my ear.

The moment I level out, my other hand accidentally connects with his chest as I try to steady myself, and all my base instincts come alive.

Predator meet prey.

I gaze up at him.

My body knows this dance thoroughly.

But this is the first time I’ve ever experienced it with anyone other than Lucifer.

And this is Death we’re talking about.

I swallow thickly.

“Careful,” he grumbles.

“Or what?” I ask, pulling away quickly.

Azrael chuckles like he already has me all figured out, and the way it echoes low and deep in my belly, like there’s nowhere to escape him, sends an accompanying shiver racing through me. “Do you have to ask?”

I sigh. “Look, Death, sir ,” I say, aiming for sarcastic and ending up closer to bratty. “I don’t know what it is you think you know about me, but I’m here to train. Just like—”

“Daddy told you?” he finishes for me.

I turn crimson, and Azrael smirks like he won the lottery.

“Is that what you call him? Daddy?”

Goddamn him.

My whole body is on fire from head to toe.

Burning with fury.

Azrael chuckles long and low. “Oh, you and I are going to have some fun, Charlotte.”

I cross my arms. “Oh yeah, and why’s that?”

Azrael draws dangerously close.

So close my gaze falls to his stupid, gorgeous lips.

Death’s kiss.

I shiver.

No wonder his mouth is so tempting.

His tongue darts out, his thumb and closed fist positioned just to the side of that smug, lethal grin as he looks at me.

My throat writhes as I swallow.

Why am I such a sucker for dangerous men?

“Let’s get one thing clear, little siren,” he growls, his deep voice humming through me, making me soft in places it shouldn’t. I’m forced to take a step back as slowly his face starts to transition until nothing but that deathly skeleton stares back at me.

Holy fuck.

Fear and adrenaline make my heart race, my nipples hardening.

He’s practically on top of me now. Our chests nearly touching.

Those bared teeth widen into a cruel smile like he already knows the effect he has on me, even like this. “The bratty submissive bit may have worked on him, Charlotte, but make no mistake,” he says, his voice dropping low just as he sweeps my feet.

Motherfucker!

I snarl.

“It won’t work on me.”