Lucifer pushed through his tall, wooden doors with one of his large hands.
He moved effortlessly as if he weren’t carrying an entire other person.
Unlike the rest of the castle, this room was dimly lit with golden light.
The backdrop of onyx walls was made much less severe by the wood paneling and bookshelves that went from floor to ceiling.
It was gentle and cozy—unbefitting of the one who was supposed to punish the damned when they were cast to Hell.
Just like the real Lucifer, it was comforting.
He hadn’t been wearing shoes and padded across his dark red Persian rug, only stopping when he made it to the brown couch strewn with fur blankets and covered in orange and golden pillows.
As gingerly as he could, he placed the woman down.
She was hesitant to let go of him, still aware that her heart was racing.
Her instincts weren’t working well because, rather than fight or flight, she was frozen.
Lucifer gently took her hands from his shoulders, but he didn’t let them go as he knelt on the ground next to where he had placed her.
He could still feel that her hands were shaking even if her expression had calmed.
Her normally clear blue eyes were reddish from her tears.
It broke his heart as much as it angered him, though he would never push it onto her.
“Are you okay?” he wondered.
“Was it a nightmare?” She squeezed his hands and nodded.
“A nightmare, but a memory,” she whispered.
“My first time with the current Werewolf King’s heir.
I guess I had forgotten it.” Her chin wrinkled as she confessed things she had never talked about with anyone.
A lump was forming in her throat as the heavy emotions tied to the memories came forth.
She pulled her hands from his and wiped her eyes.
“I always present myself to you as such a mess,” she muttered.
“It’s no wonder you felt bad enough to protect me.” Lucifer wasn’t wearing his usual clothes since he had put on silk shorts and a T-shirt before sleeping, so he didn’t have a handkerchief.
Instead, he found tissues in the basket on his coffee table and brought them to her instead.
He gently pulled her hands from her eyes and dabbed at the tears that had fallen.
“I didn’t protect you with that much thought behind it,” he admitted, his deep voice hushed.
“My knee-jerk reaction was that it’s the right thing to do.
And when I heard you calling me before, it felt like the right thing to do yet again.” What he said hadn’t really sunk in.
She was a pile of nerves, simply reacting to each thought as it came into her head.
“I’m sorry for clinging to you and using you for comfort when I can’t offer you anything more than that,” she explained meekly.
“I wish I were someone who could follow through with my actions, but I—I’ve never been good at that.
Even in that dream.
It was the result of me sending mixed signals.” It killed Lucifer to hear that.
He ran a hand through his hair that was a bit more unkempt than usual since he had been sleeping.
“I have to be direct with you,” he said.
She nodded, wondering if she had gotten herself into trouble.
From what she could tell, Lucifer was stronger than the alphas by himself.
“You reaching out to someone for comfort doesn’t mean you’re giving them permission to access your body,” he explained.
“You are blameless.
Anyone who pushes through despite a lukewarm response deserves to have their dicks cut off—” he quickly cut himself off.
“Forgive me.” The candles and fireplace both flared with their golden flames as his anger rose.
Despite everything, she felt a pull in her heart.
He was so angry on her behalf, and he didn’t have to be.
“I wish they were castrated,” she admitted, and her eyebrows wrinkled together.
“But then I feel bad for saying that because they housed me after I lost my parents.
Isn’t that pathetic?” “That’s because you’re a good person—!” Lucifer had to cut himself off.
The flames were getting out of hand.
He swept his hand to his left, and all the candles and the fireplace went out.
The only light left was what was coming in from the window, but it was dim and red.
The blood moon hadn’t set yet.
Day and night cycles were much different than the cycles on Earth.
His face was intense, shadows causing him to seem more severe.
His red eyes seemed to glow despite the darkness.
Rather than being afraid of his outburst or the sudden darkness, she was still in awe that he was feeling all of those things because of her.
She didn’t even flinch.
It was becoming obvious that he wouldn’t lay a finger on her unless she asked him to.
“You’re a good person,” he continued, more subdued.
“And you’re a victim.
A victim will appeal to their abusers because they want to fix whatever is causing them harm, even if it’s at the cost of their pride.” One of his hands went to the couch cushion next to her as he lowered his head and clenched his fist.
“You’re making me realize things I have never considered about the way I think or cower in front of authority,” she admitted.
“No one has ever cared about what was happening to me, especially not enough to go out of their way to change that.” “While you’re under my care, we will change that together,” he swore.
“For now, rest here.
You were only in your room for a couple of hours.
I will be here.” Adela nodded.
As her adrenaline dissipated, she realized that she was exhausted.
She settled deeper into the couch and turned towards the large, fluffy pillows all along the back of the couch.
It felt like a nest.
A few moments later, she felt a soft, fur blanket laid over her.
In response, she could only offer a small, tired smile.
The entire room smelled like him.
It was like burnt mahogany wood, something you would roast marshmallows over while camping.
As she drifted off, she wondered what it would be like to have someone she could hold onto for comfort.
Intimacy would come naturally.
Maybe one day she would even stop being afraid of what comes next.
This time, her sleep was dreamless and restful.