Page 69 of Wicked Believer (Original Sinner #2)

Chapter Fifty-Six

Charlotte

The moment Lucifer tells me to go after Azrael, I hesitate.

I don’t want to lose Lucifer, to risk him—risk us —but I know this is the right choice.

For both of us.

I reach up, hands shaking, and unlatch my collar. My heart thumps against my chest painfully as I pass it to him, but despite how much it pains me, how much I’ve longed to be his, I try not to let myself linger on the pride and hurt in his gaze.

Not pride for himself, but in me. At how far I’ve come. Thanks to him.

If I look too long, I might never allow myself to do this.

Risk everything.

Lucifer is my fate, my purpose. My very reason for existing, but Azrael is my ...

My choice.

The first celestial decision Lucifer’s gifted me.

We both need this. The freedom of certainty.

And while I don’t know where any of this is headed or what any of this means for him, or for me—hell, for all three of us—we can figure the rest out later.

So, I kiss Lucifer on the cheek before I dart into the crowd to find Azrael.

I don’t see him anywhere in the playroom, or on any of the other floors, and it isn’t until I notice the glow of the city lights below, where one of the party drapes has started to fall away from the window, that I know exactly where to find him.

I stumble out onto the rooftop a few minutes later, nothing but a thin satin robe wrapped around myself, so I’m instantly shivering.

Azrael’s perched on the roof’s edge, his dark wings folding and unfolding, and my breath hitches. I rarely ever see them, and they’re so beautiful, I wish he didn’t have to hide them regularly.

The Angel of Death.

He may not be a real angel, but he’s been that more than once for me.

Slowly, I walk to his side, and soon I’m sitting on the ledge right beside him, our knees brushing. “I’m—”

“Sorry,” we both say at once.

The hurt in Azrael’s eyes softens.

“You first,” I whisper to him.

“I never meant for it to hurt you.”

I lift a brow, not certain what he means, and I track how the muscled cords of his throat writhe.

“God’s blade. The Holy Lance. The one Michael, and now Lucifer, have been searching for. The one Michael claims to have is a fake. But the real one, the one that killed your actress is still out there.” He hesitates before he says, “And I was the one who put the real blade into play.”

I suck in a harsh breath at the revelation, at what he’s just confessed to me.

“Why?” I breathe.

“I did it to hurt him.” His eyes dart back toward the rooftop’s entrance as if I don’t already know exactly who he means. “I never meant for it to—”

“You love him,” I whisper.

It’s not a question. I can see it right there in his cold blue gaze.

It’s something we both have in common.

Death looks a little ... lost as he stares back at me then, his expression an aching mixture of guilt, pain, regret, and longing. “I wish that I didn’t, but I do. But also, I”—he swallows, and the cold fire in his gaze returns—“didn’t expect to feel anything for you.”

My heart starts to pound rapidly, so loud and forceful that the sound of it echoes inside my ears. “That’s why you made whatever deal it is you made with him, isn’t it? Because you love him, and also because you—”

“Didn’t think I could bear the thought of seeing you hurt? No. Not after I’d held you.”

An amused, self-deprecating huff tears from my lips as I shrug, turning to look back toward the glittering lights of the city. “I’m sure you’ve held plenty of other humans as they’ve died.”

“None that were ever brave enough to look at me, to see me,” he admits. “None that ever managed to escape.”

I smile so wide I nearly laugh. “So that’s what this is? It’s the thrill of the chase for you?”

To Death I’ll always be the one who got away.

The only former human who’s managed to escape from him, even though it was my time. This strange fascination we have with one another, that we’ve been harboring since the very beginning ...

It’s as new and strange to him as it is to me.

Maybe that’s why I’ve been dreaming of him, because some part of me knew that he’d played a role in gifting my freedom to me. Held me in his arms long enough to let Lucifer offer me God’s redemption.

Even though he should have hated me from the start.

For falling in love with the fallen angel he’s clearly been in love with for all eternity.

And to think I ever thought they were just fuck buddies.

Lucifer and Death’s relationship is so obvious now.

It spans the whole of time, of human history.

God, I bet the two of them were freaking menaces when they were together.

“It was a bit of that initially,” Azrael admits, his smile a little teasing. “And I like to watch.”

“Of course, you do, you freaking stalker.” I give his biceps a playful punch. “You think I haven’t noticed how you’ve been following me? Total creeper energy for sure.” I grin.

Azrael smiles back at me.

And I realize that’s what I like about Death.

He sees down to the barest parts of me.

Like with him, I can just be an inexperienced twenty-three-year-old again.

Not the vicious queen of Hell I’m becoming.

I think some piece of me needs the reminder that I can be both.

“So, you like to watch, huh?” I bump my shoulder against his, and Azrael’s eyes darken.

“Not just watch, little siren.”

A shiver runs through me. One that doesn’t have anything to do with the wind.

“I forgive you, you know.” The words unexpectedly tumble from my lips.

Death looks slightly taken aback by that.

He lifts a brow. “You do?”

The Holy Lance nearly cost me my life, after all. Even if he wasn’t the one to wield it, even if he only put the weapon into play, it was supposed to be me in Xzander’s studio.

And Olivia’s death still weighs on me.

But I have the feeling she’s in a better place.

Azrael would have made sure of it.

“I know what it’s like to love him”—I glance down at my clutched hands—“to be afraid he isn’t capable of loving you in return.”

“He didn’t with me.” Azrael shakes his head, though I can see how the truth in that hurts him. “Not like he does you.” He meets my gaze. “He does love you, Charlotte. In all the ways he can. I don’t want to get in the way of that.”

“I know.” I grin, my posture relaxing. “I know he does. But you won’t. Lucifer and I could never be over. I love him, and I always will, but I have to be certain my choices are mine. That my life isn’t just a product of God, or Lilith, or fate. I think that’s all he and I need to be truly happy.”

Azrael nods like he understands. “You need to be your own master first, before you can truly submit yourself to someone.”

“Exactly.” I give him a soft smile.

Death is sensitive in ways no one would ever expect him to be.

Maybe because, in the end, he’s the one tasked with the job of putting us at peace, helping us move forward.

“What did you mean?” he asks unexpectedly. Azrael strikes me as a short-response kind of guy. Few humans are as okay with silence as he is. “When you said you were sorry?” he prompts.

“I’m sorry for not recognizing what Lucifer meant to you sooner. For dragging you into all this.” My limbs grow heavy as I look at him, my heart on my sleeve.

The corner of his mouth turns up as he nods appreciatively. “You’re not dragging me into anything, little siren. Lucifer offered to share you with me of his own accord as part of our deal.”

My brows shoot up. “He did?”

I’m not certain how I feel about that.

Azrael reads my expression easily. “Your body. Not your heart. He asked, should something happen to you, for me to spare your life once more. Go against fate. He was desperate to protect you. I don’t think he ever truly expected for me to take him up on it.”

I shrug. “But still, he offered.”

I’m not sure why that hurts me.

Yet another thing I have to unpack.

“Sometimes that strategic mind of his is two steps ahead of his heart.”

“You think that he—?”

“Planned for this? No. At least not initially.”

I squint, my expression turning pensive. “And what did you get out of it? The deal between you both?”

He smirks at me. “Who do you think asks the questions here?”

I flush, glancing down slightly. “So, we’re really going to do this then? You, Lucifer, and me?”

Azrael shakes his head softly. “I ... wouldn’t say that, but if you want a choice, little siren, I’ll be that choice for you.”

My breath hitches. “I can’t make any promises.”

“Neither can I.”

He moves closer, and I feign an interest in my hands. “And you should probably know that before Lucifer—”

“You’ve got a lot of darkness in your history. You and me both.” He tucks a stray strand of hair behind my ear, leaning into me.

My eyes fall to his lips, and I nod.

But that’s all the permission Azrael seems to need.

His mouth is on mine in an instant, a subtle onslaught that’s as forceful and deliciously suffocating as he is. He comes forward, easing on top of me, nearly knocking us both off the ledge. I tug him closer, my hands fisted and tangled in the material of his shirt.

Death’s kiss is a transformation.

The beginning and the end all in one.

Like life anew after the annihilation of everything I once was, everything I am, and everything I will be.

And maybe . . .

The choice that binds Lucifer and me together.

I’m not certain there was ever any other path for the two of us—no, the three of us—but this. Whatever and wherever it leads, we’ll find a way forward. I’ll make Lucifer see.

It was always supposed to be like this.

When Azrael pulls away, his lips hovering only a fraction above mine, we’re both breathing heavy, the shock of what’s just passed between us feeling like a revelation.

Its own kind of apocalypse.

Azrael glances down to where he’s positioned overtop me. Like he knows as well as I do where this could go if we both allowed it.

“I should get back to him,” I say, placing my hand on his chest.

We need to take this slow. For all our sakes.

“Mmph.” He gives a low, grumbling purr, the noise rushing heat straight to my core as his eyes once again fall to my lips, like it physically pains him for us to separate, but then he moves off me, helping me sit up.

I twist so that my feet are now firmly planted on the safe side of the ledge, but then he’s standing next to me, his large, wide shadow looming over me as his hand snakes to the back of my neck, cradling me there, and unlike Lucifer, he doesn’t pull me to him.

It’s like he’s guiding me. Like the choice to be with him is and always will be mine.

“I’ve waited an eternity for someone to see me the way you do—as a person, not just some terrifying concept.” He stares down at me, his graveled voice thick and heavy with need. “I can wait one night longer. Go.” He nods over his shoulder. “Go to him.”

“And what about you?” I brush my hand over his cheek.

He shivers.

Death actually shivers in response to my touch, his eyes darkening.

“I am as endless and vast as this universe, Charlotte. More patient than even your immortal eternity.” Death grins at me. “I’m not going anywhere, little siren.”