The alphas’ anger didn’t need to be explosive for them to know they had hurt Adela.
Despite their excuse for years being their instincts, they were able to control their anger enough to remain physically planted in werewolf territory as they watched her fall to her knees.
Even in her state, she recognized their use of self-control when it mattered.
And she wasn’t something that actually mattered more than a tool to use.
She dropped the knife.
Immediately, her fingers clawed at her throat, spreading blood from her accidental wound, as if she were being choked to death, trying to rip away her aggressor’s hand.
“Get… me… out… of… here,” she managed to choke out.
Lucifer was immediately at her side.
“May I pick you up?” he asked.
“Y-Yes,” she responded.
As he stood up with Adela in his arms, he turned to the pack of wolves.
“I will remember how you conducted yourselves here,” he warned the alphas.
However, the sight of their omega in the arms of another made the pheromones in the air heavier.
Caleb held Brandon back, but Garret remained composed despite his nails digging into the palms of his hands, drawing blood.
Before the group of werewolves could retreat, Brandon was the last to respond.
“This isn’t over,” he warned.
“You have taken what’s ours.
We won’t stop fighting until we get her back.” Swallowed by darkness, Lucifer and Adela found themselves in the Devil’s Dungeon.
There, he placed her on the chair she had once been chained to.
This time, the chains were invisible and not from Lucifer.
But it was better to be away from the alphas’ scent.
Adela caught her breath for a few moments before leaning into the arm of the chair.
“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice still weak.
“You didn’t have to, but—” “Enough speaking,” Lucifer responded, gently cutting her off.
“Catch your breath.” He had crouched before her, observing her.
The pheromones from the alphas made the air feel like breathing in syrup.
He couldn’t imagine what someone who was actually affected by them would feel like.
Adela nodded and did as she was told when she settled back into the chair, and her blue eyes drifted closed.
She tried to calm herself down with deep breaths, feeling sweat gathering along her hairline as she struggled for a few moments.
But it got easier soon enough.
Adela’s eyes opened, and she was surprised to see Lucifer eyeing her intently.
As if he was caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to, he suddenly stood up and backed off.
It was the most unnerved she had seen him since arriving here.
“Are you feeling better?” he asked quietly, but his deep voice carried to her ears easily.
She rolled back her shoulders and let out a sigh.
“I think so,” she admitted.
“If I were still out there, I think they would have forced me into a heat cycle…” But she stopped herself.
“Sorry, that’s graphic.” Lucifer seemed so human.
He might be disgusted with that sort of talk.
“Don’t think the King of Hell to be a prude,” he quipped.
“There are various creatures in all walks of life here.
To say I’ve seen it all is an understatement.” “That’s… Surprisingly relieving,” she admitted.
“A lot of people don’t know how to handle werewolves.” “I’m not people,” he reminded her.
“Sorry,” she apologized and suddenly scooted to the edge of her seat now that she was closer to composing herself.
“I keep accidentally underestimating you.” Lucifer regarded Adela for a few moments.
His expression softened after her apology, but he steeled it soon after.
“There’s no need to grovel to me,” he insisted.
There was a silence after his words because Adela had the urge to apologize again, but she knew now that the King didn’t want to hear it.
Her gaze dropped, and she adjusted her hair nervously.
As she pushed it away from her neck, she grimaced, realizing it was stuck to her skin.
As she looked down, she realized then that she had cut herself with the knife at one point and had gotten it on her neck.
“I left my knife behind,” she realized, her eyes widening.
Lucifer’s dark eyebrows lowered.
He got close to her once more.
“I’m more concerned about the fact that you are bleeding and what you’re worried about is a knife,” he admitted.
“Let me heal you.” Pain over something small like that wouldn’t bother her after all she had been through.
It was the product of total disregard for herself.
Lucifer reached out one of his large hands.
She offered hers, putting her faith in him, and not for the first time.
“Okay,” Adela responded.
“Heal me.” Whatever came from his hand and surrounded hers looked like fire, but it didn’t feel like it.
It was warm and comforting.
“The Devil can heal,” Adela muttered, suddenly feeling nervous as if the space needed to be filled with words.
“I feel like a few things need to be cleared up about the stereotypes that surround you.” He met her eyes and smirked.
“The Devil was once an angel,” he added.
“So, that part of the story is true?” she asked.
But something more alarming happened as her wound then transferred to Lucifer, and his fingers began to bleed where hers once did.
The cuts dripped onto the ground with blood darker than hers.
However, his hand healed soon after.
She gasped, stood up, and grabbed his hand.
“You should have told me that healing me would harm you,” she admonished.
“I heal faster than you,” he retorted before gently placing her hand down and putting distance between them.
He ran a hand through his black hair and glanced towards Adela.
“What will you do now?” “I need to figure that out,” she admitted weakly.
“I just told the people who housed me the last eight years that I am not returning.” “Before, I told you to do whatever you want,” Lucifer began.
“And now?” she cautiously asked.
“I insist you stay here while there are credible threats against your life,” he said.
“In my home.
It’s the safest place in my kingdom.” Despite his certain words, she felt like he wouldn’t get mad at her for saying no.
But for once, she wanted to say yes.
This Devil was turning out to be so different from what others had said about him.
“I’ll take you up on your offer,” she finally answered.