Page 7 of Can't Bite This Feeling
I know he’s messing with me, goading me, so I inhale softly to calm my churning emotions. He wants me to react with rage so he can bait me further. I won’t give him the pleasure. “If that is what you wish,Master.”
I can’t resist adding a sarcastic drawl to the last word. I’ve lived a long life, and I had almost as much power as Lucifer when I agreed to take Mammon’s place as the demon of greed—almost, but not quite. Not enough to achieve the one thing I’ve craved for centuries. My agreement with Lucifer means the resurrection of the only woman I’ve ever loved after centuries of emptiness without her.
A knot that’s lived in my chest since the day I lost Drusilla tightens a little more as the memory of her taste, her scent, her beautiful, sweet voice comes back to me.
Drusilla.
She’s the only reason I agreed to become the demon of greed. I’ve waited so long, but every minute now seems like a lifetime.
“You’re so serious, Rapha.” Lucifer pouts almost prettily, his eyes cutting to me as his bottom lip pokes out. “Mammon was so much more fun to play with.”
I want to tell him to pull his bottom lip over his head and smother himself with it, but I hold my tongue. I lower my gaze, feigning an air of deference, but it’s not something I’m good at. Not after several lifetimes of being one of the strongest beings on the planet.
“I’m sorry, Master. I have only one desire beyond tempting people into giving their souls over to you,” I say softly, keeping my eyes on the ground.
“And what guarantees do I have that you’ll continue to serve me well if I bring your little girlfriend back?” Lucifer demands. “After all, Mammon became a useless little simp after he married Phoebe.”
“Penelope,” I correct automatically. “And I can assure you I will not become a ‘useless simp,’ as you so graciously put it.”
Lucifer snorts, rolling his eyes in a way that would be almost human if not for the infernal glow behind them. “That’s what they all say. Until love rots their brains and takes their claws.” He taps a manicured talon against his ruby cravat pin, studying me as though deciding whether to gut me or grant my wish.
I force my shoulders to stay relaxed, though every muscle is like a bowstring ready to snap. “I will do what I promised,” I say, steady as stone. “Drusilla is all I want. Everything else is yours.”
His grin is slow and sin-slick, stretching across perfect white teeth. “All mine,” he echoes, tasting the words like wine. “You do say the prettiest things, Rapha. The others lack your... flair.”
He flicks a careless hand toward a servant who scuttles in with a platter of honeyed locusts. Lucifer plucks one up, eyes sparkling with glee, and crunches it with theatrical delight. “Oh, these are delightful,” he muses, as though we’re discussing the weather. Then, as if bored by the entire performance, his focus returns to me, and his expression sharpens.
“Keep up your quota,” he warns, voice dropping to a note that chills me even after everything I’ve done. “I will not suffer disappointment.”
My jaw tightens, but I swallow the bitterness clawing at my tongue. “Of course, Master.”
Lucifer leans back on his throne, golden embroidery catching the flicker of hellfire, his smile the definition of beautiful cruelty. “Very good, my pet demon. Let’s get this over with.” He snaps his fingers and huffs with an air of boredom.
Something…changes. It isn’t something I can see, hear, or smell—nothing so obvious. It’s asensation, a relaxing of centuries’ worth of tension. But even though I can sense Drusilla’s presence in the world, she isn’t where I expected her to be…beside me.
“Where is she, Lucifer?” I demand, trying not to let my anger bite through the words.
“She’s out there,” Lucifer waves behind his head in a vague gesture. “Somewhere.”
“You mean she’s in the Above?” I say, my jaw clenching hard.
Lucifer shrugs. “Maybe?”
I can’t hold back my growl this time. It rumbles out of my chest, and I turn, ready to leave the hall to find my love.
But Lucifer isn’t quite done with me. Not yet.
“She’s in Screaming Woods,” he reveals as I reach the door.
I spin to face him. “The town where the people were transformed by the Frankenpunch?”
Lucifer nods, watching me carefully. “It seems to me she didn’t want to come straight back to you.”
His words punch me right in the stomach. I hate his games, but I have to play them. For Drusilla.
“Why?” I ask harshly.
Lucifer’s shrug is almost delicate, like a cat bored of tormenting a mouse. “Perhaps she no longer loves you. Or perhaps she wishes to find out what you’ve become before committing herself again. Mortals”—he pauses then laughs, a sound as bright as it is cruel—“well, they can be very changeable.”
