Page 5 of Wicked Believer (Original Sinner #2)

Chapter Four

Lucifer

It’s sometime later as Charlotte and I lie beneath the stars, and she finally begins to emerge from the haze of subspace, that she whispers, “What the hell did you just do to me, Lucifer?”

I don’t deign to answer her.

Instead, I roll to my side, coming to stand beside where she lies on the cold forest floor. I’ve barely managed to put my sullied clothes to rights and tuck my semihard cock back into my suit pants when suddenly I feel another celestial presence behind me.

The attention Charlotte’s little light show drew no doubt caused a stir.

I freeze time with a snap of my fingers, turning my attention toward our unexpected visitor. “Hello, Mother.”

I pivot soon enough to see her step forth from the shadows, her shock of dark hair trailing behind her as it slips through the ether. “Sweetheart,” she croons, smiling up at me with a motherly love that’s unbefitting of such a youthful face. “It’s been too long.”

She draws closer, opening her arms as if she means to beckon me, for me to kiss her on the cheek like I would have over the last several centuries, but instead I step to the side, shielding a still half-naked and vulnerable Charlotte, who lies frozen upon the ground beside me.

My fiancée has yet to learn how to defend herself from such trivial things as celestials trifling with time and space, but she will. And soon.

Now that I’ve unleashed what she’s stolen from me.

Mother smiles wickedly.

I nod over my shoulder, indicating Charlotte’s state of undress. “You never were one for privacy.”

Mother drops her arms, resigned, and shrugs. “And why should I be?” She sticks her lip into a pout that reminds me a little too keenly of Mammon. “I created you, after all.”

“And her?” I arch a brow, nodding toward Charlotte.

“Lucifer,” Mother says, lowering her chin as she looks at me. “You can’t possibly be angry with me.”

My expression darkens. “I think you’ll find my frustration with our family knows no bounds, Mother.”

She sighs, trailing her hand along a nearby tree, watching idly as the bark rots and crumbles away. My Mother can give or take life with as little as a touch.

Such is the burden of a goddess. A true deity.

“You never did like me or your Father meddling,” she says wistfully before she glances my way again. “Even when it was for your own good.”

“And that’s what this is?” I sneer. “You meddling?”

She waves a dismissive hand. “Now, Lucifer, you’ve said yourself you shouldn’t ask questions you don’t want the answer to.” She smirks, turning my own words against me.

I always did have my Mother’s smile.

And clearly, she’s been keeping tabs on Charlotte and me for far longer than I’m comfortable with, frankly.

A warning snarl tears from my lips, my more demonic features flashing.

But my Mother isn’t deterred by the terrible sight of my angelic form.

Nor the way time and Hell have changed me.

Mother bats her lashes innocently. “I simply gave her a little push in your direction, that’s all. The rest was all you, sweetheart.”

I don’t believe that for a second.

“And Father?”

She scoffs. “As if He’d ever involve Himself in something this thrilling.”

I lift a brow.

She cocks her head to the side, examining me. “Why, ending the world. That’s why He let you and my other babies out of Hell, after all. Your Father grows tired of humanity.”

The moment the words leave her lips, I feel no surprise that she’s said it.

Simply anger that I failed to trust in my own judgment sooner.

Naturally, I was right, of course. My Father tires of humanity. No doubt that’s why He disappeared after freeing us.

To leave Earth’s destruction in our capable hands. Me and my angelic siblings.

He never was one to admit when He was wrong.

But what does that mean for the once-human woman beside me?

“Don’t worry, dear. You’ve been distracted,” Mother says, clearly clocking the frustration on my face as she draws closer before she reaches out to pat my cheek, as if to reassure me I’m not losing my touch.

She looks toward Charlotte. “She is a beautiful, tempting little thing, isn’t she?

Now that you’ve polished up your Father’s work a bit. ”

“She’s mine,” I snarl, unable to stop myself. “Never His. Not any longer.”

“As she should be.” She gingerly steps away from me. “Keep working on giving me grandchildren, won’t you? I’d love to be a Mimi in our next universe, though I do suppose your sister might be a bit put out if I steal her nickname, wouldn’t she?”

“And what’s your role in all this?” My eyes flick toward Charlotte, my expression hardening. “Why her?”

“Mammon?” She lifts a curious brow as she turns to look at me.

“No, Charlotte. Why create her for me?”

It’s the one question that still doesn’t make any sense. Even to me.

She shakes her head like I’m being naive. “I already told you. I simply nudged her in the right direc—”

“Oh, come off it, Mum,” I growl. “Michael already told me.”

She sighs, her coy demeanor deflating. “Michael never was one to keep a secret. My own fault for creating him that way, I suppose.”

“Mother.” My eyes flash in warning.

She huffs. “Really, Lucifer? Don’t you trust me?”

I don’t answer her.

I trust no one.

Least of all Father. And now, her too, by proxy.

“I see,” she says, her expression an odd mixture of yearning and regret.

“Of course you don’t. Not now that you have something to lose.

” Her eyes fall toward Charlotte, who starts to stir, but to my surprise, there’s no hint of malice there, only a wistful maternal longing.

“I always thought it rather clever how your Father created Eve from Adam’s rib, so when He severed your wings, well, what’s the harm in holding on to one of your most cherished son’s bones? ”

My expression goes cold. “You didn’t.”

Mother forces a laugh. “It was just the initial creation spark, that’s all, darling. The rest was all you, I swear. Her mother prayed for conception. What kind of monster would I have been to ignore her like your Father would?” Her lips pinch with thinly veiled resentment.

“But to what end?” I snarl.

Mother sighs again. “I would have thought you’d learned this lesson from your Father’s mistakes long ago.

” She places her hand on my cheek once more, her russet skin like a shadow against me.

“Every king needs a queen. Every god, a goddess. Even you.” She pats my chin. “Do try hard not to break her.”

She snaps her fingers.

And in a blink, she’s gone.

Vanished from the clearing. Too fast even for me.

I swear loudly, not bothering to unfreeze time considering she already undermined me.

Seconds later Charlotte finally rises onto her elbows, looking around dazedly.

She places her hand on her head as she glances toward me, and from the frown on her lips, my Mother is not the only woman I’m going to disappoint this evening.

“A few seconds ago, you were standing beside me, but then I ... could’ve sworn I heard you talking to someone, and now you’re ...” Her voice trails off. “What’s going on?”

In this, I won’t lie to her.

I clear my throat. “My Mother just paid us a visit, unfortunately.”

“Y-your Mother? Lilith?” she stutters. “Did she ...”

She moves to cover herself, but I stay her movements with a lift of my hand. “Don’t bother. It’s nothing she didn’t help create.”

“Create?”

I pull a pack of cigarettes and my lighter from my suit-coat pocket. “My Mother is a goddess. Who do you think inspired my Father to ...” I light my cigarette before I gesture at the woods around us.

“Birth humanity?”

“I suppose you could put it that way.” My cigarette flares, the flame a spark in the darkness as the scent of tobacco fills the clearing.

Charlotte blows out a short breath. “There’s no such thing as an original idea, I guess.”

“She expects grandchildren.” The corner of my mouth lifts. “And soon.”

That gets her attention quickly.

Charlotte sputters. “She what?”

I chuckle at the shock in her voice, at the sudden realization that children are still a possibility for her, even with her newfound immortality. Though the thought sobers me quickly.

And for once, I make the decision to be honest with her.

I only hope that whatever humanity is left in her doesn’t make me regret it just as swiftly.

“There’s ... something else you ought to know, little dove.”