Belle’s behavior also troubled him. Hell knew Belle liked to keep to herself, but this was extreme, even for her. He didn’t like it. “We need to check on Belle,” he said.
“Wrath can’t penetrate the mist,” Shade snapped. The hell prince of lust was being particularly testy. If Lucifer had to bet on the cause, his money would be on the sexual heat radiating between Shade and Eddie.
“What are you thinking?” Raphael, always sensitive to his moods and thoughts, turned to him.
“I’m thinking there’s a reason we’re being kept out of the sloth demesne, and that reason could turn out to be vital in this war.”
“Right.” Raphael sat back and nodded. “I’ll contact Gabriel. If any being can get through that mist, it’ll be Belle’s archangel counterpart.”
The good news was that Raphael had found the grimoire in Christen’s cabin. So sure he wouldn’t be discovered, Christen, aka Weaz-adj, hadn’t even bothered to hide it well.
His haglette was insisting she be the one to use the grimoire, which was fine, because he’d be right there beside her when she did. Regardless of whatever bullshit reasoning she was inventing to get away from him.
She only had herself to blame. She’d summoned him. She’d made him part of her problem, and now they were bound together tighter than any blood oath could achieve until this was over.
Raphael postulated she was overwhelmed by what had taken place since his summoning. That the surgat demon had been her final straw. Raphael also said Lucifer should give her time and space to process.
Bianca was in danger. As much danger as Emma was. He didn’t trust Chris Fellows and those pathetic guardians to take care of his witches. So, Raphael and his suggestions could fuck right off.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Bianca was hurrying down the passage away from the greenroom when Lucifer stopped her. “Haglette.”
Shit. And dammit. And yes, fuck it. Why did he have to catch her sneaking away? She channeled her irritation into her older gripe. “How many times must I ask you not to call me that?”
“Where are you running off to?” He stepped into her flight path.
She raised a brow and played it cool. “I thought that would be obvious.”
He raised a brow back.
Short of shoving him out of her way, which she doubted would work, she was stuck with giving him an answer. “Raphael has the grimoire.”
“And?” He folded his arms and got that insufferably arrogant look on his face.
God, he was so fucking stubborn. And annoying. “And I’m a witch, and it’s my coven’s grimoire.” She followed with what wasn’t her strongest argument, but any port in a storm and all that. The port being him letting her go. “And I can release your powers from the amulet.”
“Really?” he drawled. Using two fingers, he plucked the amulet from around his neck and dropped it. It hit the floor with a dull clunk. “That amulet?”
So, it had been a weak point. “There’s a binding spell in the grimoire.”
He cocked his head. “For Emma?”
“Yes. I thought if we could bind her powers, it might help with the healing compulsion and also prevent demons from tracking her magic.” That had been part of her original plan. The fact that her intention dovetailed neatly with getting away from Lucifer was totally coincidental. Totally.
“It’s a good idea.” He nodded. “And we can get to that right after we talk.”
“We have nothing to talk about.” She tried to duck past him.
He blocked her. “You’re upset by what I did to Weaz-adj.”
“His name was Christen,” she snapped, appalled by his lack of respect. Christen was dead. “You can at least use his name, considering you killed him.
Lucifer’s voice went silky. “I killed him?”
She blamed stress on why that had come out sounding like an accusation. “You know what I mean.”
“No, Bianca.” His gaze drilled into her. “I’m not at all sure what you mean.”
“I understand about the possession thing.” She hadn’t even liked Christen, but he’d been a part of her coven, and he’d been important to Carmen. None of which explained why she was so angry with Lucifer. “All I meant was that you did the final…ending.”
“I’m not human,” he said, his face cold and haughty. “You are aware of this. I operate in an entirely different reality, with different rules.”
“I know.” She wanted to yell at him about that as well. Her anger made no sense, but that didn’t stop her from feeling it. “It was a shock to see it happen.”
His face softened. “I’m sure it was.”
“Don’t.” His compassion made her want to cry or lean on him for comfort. “It’s too much.”
His expression shuttered, and his eyes cooled. “Too much.”
“All of this.” She waved her hands, trying to encompass the vast, terrifying truth she found herself navigating.
“It’s all too much?” He stepped closer to her. “Or I’m all too much?”
Neither of them had even hinted at what was building between them. With that, Lucifer stripped the issue, bare and vulnerable, in front of them.
“I can’t answer that.” Her warring emotions tightened like a fist around her throat.
“Of all the things I considered you, a coward was never one of them.”
His clipped, cold accusation punched into her, and she flinched. “That’s not fair.”
“None of this is fucking fair.” Lucifer growled. “Was it fair for those witches who lost their lives? Is it fair for Eddie, or Dee, or any of the beings in this theatre? Is it fair for those who are dying in Pestilence’s wake? Fair.” He scoffed. “You’re scared, Bianca, and that’s understandable.”
He was right. Right about all of it, and she couldn’t hold his gaze. Bianca dropped her head.
“I’ll tell you a secret.” He tipped her chin up. “We’re all scared.”
“Even you?” He never looked anything but completely in control.
He smiled. “Even me.”
Their gazes locked. The air thickened between them. She read the intention in his eyes, moments before he leaned down and brushed his mouth over hers.
Bianca felt the soft touch to her toes.
