Page 68 of Wicked Believer (Original Sinner #2)

Chapter Fifty-Five

Lucifer

My gaze tracks to where Azrael now tears through the crowd, then to Charlotte’s face falling. My heart seems to stop before it sputters and then my pulse is suddenly racing.

I should have expected this, and a small part of me did, but with someone else .

Not him.

And for once, I didn’t see my own goddamn twist coming.

But now that I recognize it, now that I see what I’ve done, how I thrust the two of them together, it makes perfect sense to me. Some part of me knew he was the choice she needed to heal her.

I cannot unsee it.

This is the sacrifice she always needed from me. The opportunity to walk away. To choose someone other than me.

No matter how much I do not want her to.

Our scene has just finished, and Charlotte is still hanging from the suspension rack as we both watch Azrael tear through the crowd.

“You should go to him.” My words are spoken so low that only Charlotte can hear them.

Already, the crowd has started to disperse and return to the party, and Charlotte’s eyes go wide as I release her from her bindings. “I—”

I shake my head, cutting her off.

I can no longer stand the thought of her believing the worst of me, now that I realize I might lose her like this.

I cannot allow her to believe for another bloody second I am as heartless as I can be brutal, to fear the vulnerability she creates in me.

“Did you honestly expect I would be cruel enough to keep you for myself, Charlotte?”

She blinks up at me, trying and failing to understand. “Sir?”

My expression softens as I gently cup her cheek to reassure her.

“I have lived a whole existence, a whole eternity, before fate brought me to you. Thousands of lives. Hundreds of centuries. Chosen lovers aplenty. Few that ever truly meant anything to me in the way that you do, but I would never ask you to ...” My voice trails off.

Stop living for me.

Rob you of your choices, your freedom, your youthful mistakes.

All for my sake.

Her eyes widen, and I know from her expression that she was able to hear me as she stares up at me uncertainly.

“You are mine and you will always be mine.” I cup my hand on the side of her neck, stroking my thumb over her skin, her collar, as she shivers.

“But you are still so very young, so very innocent and green, and we have the whole of eternity, darling. I would never ask you to give up your choices, your freedom, for my sake, unless you want to.” I swallow as I allow my hand to travel over her collar. “Go to him.”

Charlotte glances to where the breadth of Azrael’s large body cut a swath through the crowd and then back to me, hesitating, like now that she sees the path, the choice, her freedom laid out for her, she’s too terrified to claim it.

I told my Father I thought the mix of free will and fate might be too much for them, might have been a mistake. His design is too bloody convoluted and celestial a concept for His precious creations to comprehend.

Though I think Charlotte may be coming to understand how they interplay.

Now that I’ve given her the choice to pursue her own fate.

Even when the whole of all our paths were created by His and my Mother’s hands.

Don’t make her choose, Sammael.

The priest’s prophetic warning comes back to haunt me.

I failed to realize until it was too late that it wasn’t my Father I had to watch out for. Azrael was the dark horse I never saw coming.

Placed in her path by my own hand.

“Go,” I say again, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. “I’ll be waiting for you when you come back.”

And she will. Come back to me.

In this I must trust, must believe.

Or risk forever losing all that she is to me.