well. Lucifer’s used that tone with me many, many times.
“Yes, baby?” Ella replies.
Yeah. I never responded like that to any of his commands unless we were both naked. I roll my eyes, slide down on the couch and swing my legs around, so I’m on my side, hands tucked under the throw pillow.
“Could you be a little fucking quieter?” Mayhem asks in that same falsely sweet tone.
A moment of silence and I can’t see Ella from this angle, but my eyes are on my brother’s. I see a smirk pulling on his lips, and when Ella snarls back, “Do you want to bake your own fucking cookies?” I almost laugh.
That’s exactly what I would’ve said too.
Except I never tried to bake Lucifer cookies. I tried to cook though. And failed. Many, many times.
He never seemed to care. I feel something uncomfortable twisting in my chest. Something like grief.
Mayhem bites his lip, his eyes flashing. “Keep talking to me like that and I’m going to come fuck you in—”
I cough, loudly, and my brother’s eyes dart to me, then back to his girl.
“Go ahead, pretty girl,” he says, waving his hand before his attention is back on me. “I’m going to deal with my father.” It sounds like a promise, the way he says it to me.
I stare at him a second, not blinking. Trying to imagine what he’s thinking. What he feels for me. Protectiveness? Guilt? I sit up all at once. Anger makes me clench my jaw as I stare at him, my eyes narrow, both hands back in fists. “Deal with him?” I echo, my words quiet.
He grips the edge of the leather chair he’s in, the veins in his forearms stark against his golden skin. “You think I’d let him do that to you and get away with it?” he asks me in that same deadly voice he used on Ella.
I feel pressure build behind my eyes, and I’m so sick of fucking crying. “You let him get away with it for a long, long time.” My words are shaky, but I can’t stop talking anyway. “Since Sacrificium.”
“I didn’t know what he knew then, Angel. But I believe you. About Noctem.”
I glance at the coffee table between us. Think about fucking flipping it over. “That’s nice,” I tell him, not looking at him. He should’ve fucking killed him before, but now because he believes me, he wants to do something about it? As if what Maddox did to me wasn’t enough? What Lazar did to J?
“Don’t fucking act like a bitch with me, okay, I’m just trying to—”
I count to three in my head.
One.
Two.
Three.
But I’m not any fucking calmer.
I stand, flipping the fucking table.
I’m jumping over it before I can stop myself, launching toward my brother, shoving him over the side of the chair which flips behind us.
His head hits the hardwood, my hands around his throat as his dig into my shoulders.
“You don’t want to start some shit you can’t finish, Angel,” he growls, then flips me to my back.
I don’t hear any more fucking pans rattling around, but Ella doesn’t come over, either. Good thing, or I’d rip her apart too. Fuck them both. Fuck him for not believing our father was a piece of shit as soon as he found out what he did to me. Fuck Ella for fucking my husband.
“You should’ve murdered him that night,” I snarl at him as he pins my arms to my side, his fingers curled around my wrists, my muscles shaking as I try to fight him back. “This is your fault. This is all your fucking fault.”
He stops fighting for a second and I gain the advantage, my hands going to his throat as he frowns down at me. He grips my forearms again, straddling me, his knees on either side of my hips.
“Angel, I didn’t—”
“Why did you let him live?” I drop my hands by my sides, to the floor, closing my eyes. I feel my chin quivering.
Mayhem’s leaning over me, his fingers still around my forearms as he leans closer, his bare chest heaving.
“Why did you let him live?” I ask him again, my voice hoarse.
“I didn’t know. I wanted to think…” I hear him swallow. “I wanted to think he could be better.”
My stomach clenches with those words.
“And I’m sorry, Angel. I’m fucking sorry, and I know why you ran, and I know what Lucifer did.” That grief in my chest curls into a tighter knot. I still don’t open my eyes. As