Page 64 of Wicked Believer (Original Sinner #2)

Chapter Fifty-Three

Charlotte

I’m still a bit shaken when I arrive at the play party, Lilith’s prophecy playing in my head on repeat.

I’m eager to tell Lucifer about it, though in the middle of our actual engagement party isn’t the time nor the place.

It isn’t until Azmodeus meets me in the penthouse foyer, dressed to the nines in a costume that makes him look like the ringmaster of a seductive circus—or tonight’s dungeon master—that I leave all thought of my Mother-in-Law behind.

“Welcome to Midnight Menagerie, Charlotte, where pleasure and pain are yours to command.” Azmodeus sweeps out his arm, using some of his power or sleight of hand to open the penthouse door, and I draw in a quick breath at the sight before me.

The penthouse has been transformed.

Slowly, I step inside, taking in the dark, kinky decor.

The first floor is unrecognizable, like I’ve stepped through a door into another world, into the most luxurious BDSM dungeon I’ve ever seen.

The walls and floor-to-ceiling windows are draped in black, the purple and blue glow of the neon lights blending into sensuous shades of pink that alter the space to something luscious, to something dark and seductive.

Azmodeus wraps an arm around my shoulders as he explains that all five floors of the penthouse have different themes: power exchange, sensory play, bondage and restraint, fetishes and role play, and, of course, a designated space for aftercare.

A little kinky fun for everybody.

If the complimentary gift baskets are any indication, this floor’s dedicated to aftercare, so newly arriving guests are eased into the experience before they decide which of the upper floors they want to explore.

The contents of the aftercare baskets, lined on a table against the wall, are thoughtfully curated—gel packs, scented candles, essential oils, aloe vera, massage tools, soft blankets, snacks—anything our guests might want or need after their play.

Beside the interior elevator, a few of the performers and sex workers Azmodeus hired monitor the VIP guest list. They sit at a registration table filled with bowls of multicolored bracelets.

There are color coded labels on each one, indicating that the wearer is open to the corresponding kind of play.

I reach for the one that says “impact” before Azmodeus swats my hand away.

“Not so fast, Charlotte. I have a special one for you.”

He tips his chin at one of the workers, and they lean behind the table, removing a closed velvet box before passing it to me.

When I open it, a Tiffany diamond bracelet glitters up at me.

“Consider it an early wedding present.” Az smiles as I thank him, plucking it out of the box and gently slipping it onto my wrist. “Everyone here knows that this means you belong to Lucifer. No one puts their hands on my brother’s bride without his permission.”

“Except you, of course?” I nod to where he cradles my wrist.

Az smirks, and a sudden burst of lust rushes through me.

Like he’s helping me “get ready” in more ways than one.

I clench my thighs together, and his crooked grin widens.

“I’m the exception that proves the rule, considering tonight your sins are mine.

” He releases my hand, circling me, then grips both my shoulders from behind and leans down to whisper into my ear.

“My brother’s waiting for you, Charlotte.

Best run along to Daddy.” He smacks my ass, and I yelp, but when I turn and glance back, he’s gone.

I frown.

That little disappearing act of his is starting to get annoying.

Slowly, I make my way toward the staircase, allowing the party’s atmosphere to wash over me. Dark ambient trip-hop plays in the background, the repetitive beat making the lights and atmosphere feel almost hypnotic, spellbinding.

I pass several couples in various stages of aftercare as I climb the first-floor staircase.

There are a few well-known celebrities I’ve met at some of the galas and philanthropic events Lucifer and I frequently attend, and I think I spot a few of the city’s politicians, who are—discreetly—on Apollyon’s unofficial payroll, and who would probably prefer not to be seen. Hence, the masquerade masks.

Everybody who’s anybody in this city is here.

Just as trapped under Lucifer and his siblings’ spell as I am.

When I reach the second floor, my sense of direction inside the penthouse leaves me. The floor’s been divided into new rooms with several roped-off sections and no indication of where our usual furniture should be. Like I’m lost within a tempting labyrinth.

A labyrinth of pleasure.

Azmodeus is a true artist when it comes to parties.

Play equipment I’ve never seen before, curated specifically for tonight, has been spread throughout to assist in each floor’s theme.

I wander farther inside, and a masked woman to my right moans from where her play partner drips a bit of candle wax across her. I can’t be one-hundred-percent certain, but something about the breathy tone of her moan seems ...

My eyes widen.

Evie.

I flush and turn away quickly.

Watching her feels like a violation, even though she’s out in the open and wearing one of Azmodeus’s wristbands that says she’s interested in voyeurism.

I head the other way. This floor’s dedicated to sensory play based on the array of feather ticklers, impact play tools, and blindfolds lying about. Various hired sex workers prowl the corridors, ready to engage in pickup play with any willing guests.

They smile and watch me as I pass, their relaxed, half-lidded gazes making them look hungry for attention, but as soon as they see the diamond bracelet on my wrist, they step aside, allowing me to continue on freely.

Azmodeus was right.

Everyone here does know I belong to Lucifer.

And no one will dare touch what belongs to the devil without his permission.

Eventually, I find my way to the third floor, pausing on only a few short occasions to watch some of the masked performers engage in different kinds of bondage play.

I stop and admire one of the hired demonstrators, a rigger who’s strung up his playmate in such a beautiful shibari that it puts even Lucifer’s more detailed ropework to shame.

I haven’t laid eyes on my fiancé yet, but I have an idea of where he might be. I make my way through the rest of the third and fourth floors—bondage and restraint, and fetish and role play, respectively—until finally I find what feels like the labyrinth’s center.

The fifth and final floor.

Lucifer’s playroom.

Power play.

I step into the corridor that leads to his devil’s chair, and I know I’ve guessed correctly, because already I can feel him there. The sense that he’s something other .

Though how, when he’s lost his power, is a question for another day.

The inside of the playroom is as transformed as the rest of the penthouse—I can’t help but imagine this is the king of Hell’s courtroom.

Brought topside to New York City.

Lucifer sits draped across his throne in the middle of it all, holding court like he’s waiting for me. His attention locks on to mine the moment I enter the room, and the rush of power that sweeps over me has nothing to do with his missing divine abilities.

Lucifer’s hold over me is primal, visceral.

So fundamental to who we both are, it transcends time and space.

And Michael’s wicked games.

Lucifer’s hands tighten over the chair’s edges, that devilish smirk of his focused on me as I approach him.

I’m not sure how he’s managed to conceal his loss of power from his siblings tonight, but then my eyes fall to the corner, finding Azrael, who’s serving as one of the dungeon monitors on this floor, and the answers fall into place.

Azrael’s his shield.

He’s using his powers in lieu of Lucifer’s.

I feel his divine touch all over me, even in places I shouldn’t.

My gaze darts back toward Lucifer. Even without his abilities, how anyone could perceive the vicious ruler of Hell before me as powerless is beyond me.

He’s more god than mortal.

He’s his Father’s power embodied.

The height of His pride as He took stock in all He created.

Nothing Michael could ever do could change that.

I step forward as Lucifer summons me with the crook of two fingers until he stands before me. “I have something for you, little dove.”

I lift a brow.

“An early wedding gift.”

“First Azmodeus and now you? You’re spoiling me.”

Lucifer’s twisted grin widens. “I think you’ll find mine is far more practical.” There’s a gleam in his eyes that makes my breath hitch. He gestures to one of the performers, who steps forward, and immediately I recognize him as ...

“Ramesh?” I breathe softly.

He gives a silent nod and passes a medium-size jewelry box toward Lucifer.

I gape at him. “Is ... is everyone on the entire staff kinky?”

Neither of them answers as Lucifer turns his attention back to me.

His velvet-and-sin voice drops to the low register he reserves for when we’re alone, and I feel it between my thighs. “On your knees.”

I drop to the floor eagerly, the ivory white of my recreated purity gown circling me.

The bodice pushes my breasts out like an offering, making me painfully aware of the weight of them, of how heavy they feel with anticipation.

This version of my old dress is designer and a little more gownlike than my previous one, but for the moment, it’s fitting.

I lower my head, waiting for my next instruction, but Lucifer’s voice is surprisingly gentle as he whispers, “Please look at me, Charlotte.”

I lift my gaze to him, and the whole room, the whole world seems to hinge on his next breath as he opens the box.

A new play collar.

One to match the diamond day collar at my throat.

My vision blurs with emotion, my heart nearly as open as when he proposed to me. I’m already his sub. But wearing his collar, being his, is an even deeper level of commitment.

A way to show the world that he owns me.