He paces the floor outside her bedroom door, contemplating what to say. But the words have been stolen, snatched from his tongue and replaced with the bitter taste of regret. Shame. He feels shameful for possessing these thoughts…these emotions. And odd. Human sentiments hold no purpose in his existence. Yet, here they are, infecting him, changing him. And it was seriously driving him fucking mad.
Lucifer couldn’t fuck his way out of this. He couldn’t snap his fingers and be done with the discomfort of feeling. Eden had gotten under his skin, and as much as he enjoyed pressing all her pretty little buttons, he couldn’t stand to see her in pain.
She didn’t say a word on the journey back to Irin’s house. Nikolai was able to scrape together his last ounces of strength to flash Jinn back, so the ride back was tense, to say the least. He knew she blamed herself for this; she thought she could save the unsavable. And he and the Se7en were so desperate that they allowed her to try. They let her sacrifice her heart and her sanity because they believed she was the key to his salvation.
But he knew better.
He knew and still let her try because he needed her to see it for herself. What kind of monster was he? How could he shatter her into a million pieces for his own selfish desires because he was too stubborn, too afraid—fuck—to lose her?
And now here he is, reduced to a pathetic, sniveling coward outside her door, wondering what he could possibly say to make this better for her. Wondering if she would ever see him for more than the architect of all that was wrong and ugly in her life. She would be right to hate him, but he didn’t care. Anything was better than seeing her crumble. He would rather burn in Hellfire for a thousand years than let her endure one more second of hurt.
He sucks in a breath. Spits out a curse. And knocks on the door.
He doesn’t expect her to answer. When they arrived back at the mansion, she still hadn’t uttered a single word. The others rushed to the infirmary, reciting silly little prayers to a negligent God, but she went straight to her room. Eyes glazed, shoulders limp…it was like she was in a trance.
Lucifer had no business following behind her. He was all the way fucked up to even think she wanted him anywhere near her after what she had just endured. But as her bedroom door creaks open, he holds his breath, thanking his Father for giving him this one small miracle.
“Eden…”
She doesn’t say a word. She simply steps back to let him in. The irony of this simple gesture does not go unnoticed. Twenty-four hours ago, he would not have even bothered to knock. He took what he wanted, when he wanted. He didn’t give a fuck about social norms because that shit didn’t apply to the lord of the fucking underworld. But now…now her cold welcome is a gift. And he’s only too eager to accept.
The room is in disarray with clothing strewn everywhere. She’s washed the blood from her skin and changed her shirt, but she’s back in the fighting leathers and boots from earlier.
“How are you?” he asks, shutting the door behind him. Stupid. What kind of question is that? “Are you hurt at all?”
“No.” Her voice is icy enough to send a chill up Lucifer’s spine. She slings a backpack onto the bed and starts stuffing it with clothing and weapons. She swiftly strides to the bathroom, retrieving some first aid items, and sticks those in there too.
“Going somewhere?” Lucifer asks, trying to sound casual.
“I’m going to find him.”
“Who?”
“Legion.”
“Eden, he’s gone. He isn’t coming back.”
She slams down the backpack and glares daggers in Lucifer’s direction. “Don’t you think I know that?”
“Then why do you want to find him?”
“Because…” She shakes her head, unable to finish the thought. He knows it’s too painful to be back in that courtyard, bearing witness to that brand of unspeakable evil.
Lucifer knows that evil all too well. He created it. He nurtured it. And in pettiness and boredom, he unleashed that evil unto the world.
What would Eden think if she knew it was he who manipulated the monster that Legion had become? How would she feel if she knew that all of this was his doing?
Granted, this was all before he truly knew Eden, light years before he had grown to…care for her, a sentiment he was still struggling to digest. But if she had grown privy to his misdeeds—if she knew that she was the most crucial part of his devious plan—she would never forgive him, let alone speak to him again. And as fucking petty and human as that was, he couldn’t risk it. He had already lost his brother. He couldn’t lose her too.
“I’m going with you.”
Eden pauses from her packing, looks at him and frowns. “What?”
“I’m going with you. You want to find him. Believe it or not, cupcake, I’m not just a pretty face.”
She shakes her head. “I don’t have time for games, Lucifer.”
“Who said anything about games? You know the Se7en won’t help you, and who would blame them? I’m all you’ve got.”
“Crysis?”
“He’s already gone back to join the Alliance to help rebuild the city.”
“Nikolai?”
“I…released him. He earned it. He should be with his family.”
She purses her perfect mouth, contemplating her options. She has none.
“Fine. But if you’re coming with me, no funny business. You will not lie to me. You will not try to mindfuck me. And you won’t question me about anything I may have to do. Got it?”
“Got it.”
Lucifer turns towards the door under the pretense of packing his own bag. Honestly, there’s nothing he truly needs. Only her.
“Luc?” Eden calls out before he hit the doorjamb.
“Yes?” He turns to face her, more eager than he intends.
“Uriel…he said I was part of your insurance plan. The most important piece to your puzzle that will bring ruin to the Earth in the event that Legion fails. What does that even mean? And what role do I play in all this?”
Lucifer’s violet eyes fall to the floor, his expression blank and his brutally cold guise sliding into place. He never meant to drag this out for as long as he did, but here they are. And either way he plays this, she may very well hate him for the rest of her days, however long that may be.
Still, she’d understand. She’d do anything for the people she loves. Maybe one day he’d be included in that category.
Maybe.
He fixes his face with a crooked grin, the one he knows makes her breath still and her cheeks heat against her will, then gazes up at her through hooded eyes churning with a thousand tiny galaxies.
“I’ll tell you on the way.”
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