Page 76 of Like Grim Death: Part One
But as for the fucking accusations, those are baseless. If I knew something, I would’ve confessed long ago. Jeremiah kept me out of his work, for the most part.Just like Lucifer does.
I laugh, a broken sound, as I lift my gaze to my husband’s. “Don’t drag me into this. This hasnothingto do with me. You make sure of it.”
His eyes are like blue fire. He straightens from the desk, holding Rain carefully, but I see the tension in Luce’s shoulders, the vein in his pale, strong neck. “You haven’t mentioned him at all. You don’t think about him? Or maybe… maybe you’re actually talking to him. Maybe you haven’t had a chance to miss him, because for you,he never fucking left.”
I stand quickly, my thigh knocking into the coffee table. The bottle atop it sways and I turn to watch it fall over, a fleck of milk leaking on the dark, polished table. The bottle rolls, the valve inside to help prevent colic spinning, and the plastic container drops, coming to a stop on the soft, black rug beneath my feet.
Slowly, I turn my gaze to my husband. “Give him to me.” I clench my fingers into fists at my side, digging my nails into my palms.
Lucifer’s dark brows shoot up, a wicked smile curling his lips. “Are you serious?” He scoffs, a dimple flashing in his pale face as he rubs Rain’s back. “You think… what? I’d hurt him?” He shakes his head, dismissing the words.
I step closer, leaving the rug for the coldness of the hardwoods. Lightning forks violently behind Lucifer, outside the wall of windows. Rain slams against them, bearing down on our roof too. Every muscle in my body is tense.
“I want to put him in his crib.”
Lucifer smiles, taking a step closer.
Then another.
We meet in the middle. I have to tilt my head up to stare at him. Between us, I catch the scent of Rain’s fresh, new baby smell. I hope it never leaves him. It’s almost enough to make tears prick behind my eyes, for reasons and hormones I can’t decipher.
“No.” Lucifer’s denial drives me closer to the brink of falling.
Panic. It’s what unfurls inside my chest. Squeezing my lungs. It’s irrational. I know Lucifer won’t hurt Rain. But maybe it’s what he felt when he walked in on me with the knife in hand, looming over Rain’s crib, on Monday night.
I don’t know what to say. I feel wired and tired, all at once. My knees are shaky, and I’m not afraid of Lucifer anymore. But when he gets like this, and whenIget like this, I just don’t want Rain around it, and I know Lucifer isn’t done talking.
“So do you talk to him?” he pushes me, his eyes lighting up.
Fire burns in my low belly. “Stop.” It’s barely a whisper. “Let me put him in his crib.” I don’t plead, but I try to make it sound rational. I’m so scared of being called crazy, ofbeingcrazy, it’s like I’m tiptoeing around my own emotions. The unfairness of it claws at me too. The way Lucifer can be completely unhinged, but no one will fault him for it. It’smewho has to behave properly.
Lucifer’s fingers drift over Rain’s back, and I note the veins in his hands. The secure way he holds Rain, very sure of himself, not afraid like Mav was when he first held him. “Answer the question, Lilith.”
I want to scream. I take a deep breath. Then I reach for Rain, my fingertips grazing Lucifer’s arm as I feel my son’s warm body beneath my touch, my hands secure on his tiny sides. I don’t drop my gaze from my husband though.“Please.”
Something softens in Lucifer’s face with that word. He swallows, hard, his throat rolling as he does. His brows knit together, and after a tense moment, the storm growing louder outside of our home, he nods once and carefully shifts Rain into my arms.
Relief unfurls inside my body, blooming warm but cooling the heat in my stomach. I clutch Rain closer, dropping my nose to his hair and breathing him in. Then, on light steps, I turn from Lucifer and I leave the office, my bare feet cold against the polished wood.
“Come back when you’re done, baby girl.” The whisper calls after me, and I nod silently but don’t look over my shoulder.
The walk to Rain’s room seems long. It’s only a few steps away, and I’m inside the darkened nursery, the Unsainted “U” looming on the wall, but all the way, it’s like I was walking an endless corridor of nightmares. Of Lucifer sleepwalking. Holding a knife to my head. His temper fraying when he’s on edge, when he can’t think ahead of his uncles, when he’s worried about his family.
Once I’m inside the room, I don’t want to let my baby go. I hold him close, pressing him to my heart, and I close my eyes in long seconds of silence.
Then thunder rumbles, causing both Rain and me to flinch. But when I snap my eyes open, I see Rain has merely adjusted in my arms and fallen back asleep, a heavy little breath leaving him.
Carefully, with a lump in my throat, I step closer to his crib and lower him inside, on his back. I straighten, gazing at him, watching his limbs flail a moment when he searches for something to hold onto. But finding nothing, he simply relaxes, hands above his head, and dozes back into blissful rest. It’s almost like he doesn’t need us already. Independent at zero, I don’t dare want to imagine him grown up.
But with his peaceful slumber, my relief sharpens, tightens, and I grab the sleek baby monitor on his dresser before I step out of his room, leaving the door wide open as I head back to Lucifer.
When I step into the doorway, he’s sitting on the edge of his desk, black, high-top sneakers flat on the floor, and there’s a blade between his long, pale fingers.
I stop where I am, my palm grazing the trim of the door as I steady myself, my fingers tightening around the monitor.
He spins the knife like he can’t stay still, the tip biting into his thumb, one knee bouncing. It’s like now he doesn’t have to be careful around Rain, he can let all of this volatile, wanting energyout.
He does this often, probably when he’s fiending for a fix.
