Lucifer's Bride [Complete]

38

Hesitantly, I take the needle from him. Although glowing red, it's cool to the touch and easily handled. A clever trick, but something I'd expected. He'd never hand me a truly hot needle and allow me to burn myself. I'd slap him.

I take a deep breath and steady myself, rolling the spiked ring I've chosen for him between my fingers. I don't know why he's allowed me to do this. I'm no seamstress-I've never even sewn a button - and I've certainly never jammed a needle into anyone's skin. He's risking serious bodily harm with me doing this, but if it's what he wants, I suppose I'll have to do it.

"Okay," I manage to center myself. "Hold still."

He smiles and straightens his spine, holding perfectly still so I have a good shot. "Don't scar me."

I give a nervous laugh. "No promises."

I take one last breath and hold the needle close to his skin, aiming the tip at his nipple. I'm shaking slightly, throwing my aim off a bit, but I manage to pull my nerves together. I don't want to mess this up and accidentally mar that gorgeous skin of his. I'd never forgive myself.

Shoving my anxiety aside, I focus my gaze on his skin and quickly force the needle through his flesh. Lucifer gives a sharp groan, squeezing his eyes shut and gritting his teeth. Panicking but still clear-headed, I pull the needle away and manage to slide the ring into the fresh hole and screw it closed.

There.

I take a slow breath and set the now-cooled needle into the box of rings and studs, relieved that I managed to pierce him without doing any unnecessary damage. We're both fine, albeit a little rattled.

I look at my body, now full of metal and stones, then back to his. We've marked each other as our own, alerting others to the fact that we've been claimed by another and are unavailable. He is mine and I am his.

Lucifer glances down at his chest, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Not bad. You did a clean job."

"Thanks," I offer a slight smile.

"No blood or anything." His eyes flick to me. "I'mimpressed."

I pause for a moment, suddenly curious. "What color is your blood?"

His smile turns sly. "What do you think?"

I shrug. "It can't be red. You're not mortal. And the old Greek gods weresupposed to bleed gold and silver. So...maybe black?"

"Good girl." He leans in and kisses me - a slow, burning kiss thatsets my skin on fire and starts to melt my bones. "Smarter than yourmother gives you credit for."

Gently, I lean back onto the bed as Lucifer crawls forward with me. His chestpresses against my breasts, and the chill of his skin numbs any lingering painfrom the rings. My back presses against the soft bedding, and I'm pinned undermy husband's weight. I'm trapped between a warm bed and a soft body and have noway of escaping.

How I despise my cruel, undeserved fate.

My arms automatically loop around his neck and pull him close as our kissdeepens. I run my hands down the length of his back, feeling the lean muscleshidden just under the skin. It's amazing that so much strength can be held insuch an unassuming body. He's nothing like the muscle-bound juice heads that competein body building competitions; he's much leaner and less testosterone-fueled.But even taking away his immortality and supernatural strength, he could punchthrough a wall of rock with less effort.

Sandwiched together, both of our bodies kick into autopilot and let our baserinstincts do the talking. His hand slides down the length of my torso and overmy hip, stopping at mid-thigh and slipping under my leg. He lifts my leg high,hooking my knee over his hipbone so we're locked together.

Our kiss has deepened to a level beyond normal passion, and another round ofeat-your-face-off kissing has started. It's amazing how close we've gotten in amatter of days. Lucifer spilled his soul -- what's left of it, anyway -- to mein the bath, and now we've personally marked each other with the metal that nowaccents our skin. It must be incredibly difficult for him to get thisemotionally close to anyone, but its progress. A few more days and I mightattempt a striptease if he proves himself.

Stop. Destroy that idea this instant. A striptease? As if I can dance?

My logical voice tries to dissuade me from attempting the impossible -- dancingwell enough not to embarrass myself -- but my rebellious spirit has a deathgrip on the challenge and won't let go. I've made my decision. Good behavior onLucifer's part equates to a striptease from me. It sound incredibly fair sincewe'll both be out of our comfort zones, and we both might enjoy seeing myparade around in a lace thong trying my best to seduce him.

Hell, if I can get him to fuck me seconds after he spilled his heart in thebathtub, I can do anything.

Our embrace lasts far longer than expected, but neither of us cares. We shouldhave started tearing the bed apart about five minutes ago, but it's wonderfulto just lay here and hold each other. I chalk it up as another small victory inmaking him a little more open. I've discovered the more intimate we are, themore honest and warm he becomes. That's really good news; I can use the idea ofmaking him more trusting and open as an excuse to drag him to bed five times aday.

A knock at the door startles us out of our embrace. I pull away, scrambling tothe edge of the bed and pulling the sheets to my chest. I may be queen of theunderworld, but my body is for my husband's eyes only. Lucifer himself groans,scowling at the wall for a moment before pushing himself up.

"What?" he snaps.