Lucifer's Cage (After Dark Book 6) by Sarah Bailey (short story to read .txt) 📗

with each other. How could she have allowed him near her again?

She knew Lucifer was trouble and staying with him was a mistake, but the thought of seeing more of Hell terrified her. She didn’t want to know what happened to souls down here nor meet any demons.

Hating that he was right. Hating that she was probably safer with him than anyone else, she shifted, tearing the covers off her. She was hot and bothered. Her thighs were damp from her arousal drenching right through her underwear.

Why does he make me feel this way? He barely did anything to me. And then he just left.

Left her trying to swim against the current of their mutual attraction. She slammed her fist down on the bed, a growl of frustration tearing from her lips.

“You will be the fucking death of me, Lucifer, I swear to fucking god. You are the most sinfully attractive man I’ve ever met and yet I can’t have you under any circumstances.”

And now she was talking to herself.

Just fucking great.

She got up, striding into the bathroom just off his bedroom. There was no lock on the door, but he’d not tried anything. Yet.

Not caring at that moment, she stripped off her clothes and jumped in the shower, setting it to cold. She shivered underneath the stream of water, wincing at the temperature, but it was needed. Anything to cool the flame burning inside her.

When she was done, she hot footed it into the walk-in wardrobe on the other side of his bedroom. He’d cleared a space and given her clothes. She could only be glad they weren’t revealing. It seemed he’d made a judgement from what she’d been wearing when she’d fallen through the portal. She preferred practicality.

Selecting a pair of black jeans along with a red and black chequered shirt, she pulled on a pair of socks and calf high black boots. When she looked in the mirror, she realised her hair looked very much out of place with her current ensemble. Whilst she’d never go back to her natural colour, there were a myriad of different shades she could choose from.

She was pleased with her selection as she braided her hair down one side of her head. Her stomach growled.

Food. I most definitely need food.

She strode out of the wardrobe, through his bedroom and into his large living area.

Lucifer was sprawled out on the sofa, his arm thrown across his face. She ignored him, going straight towards the kitchen. He might not need to eat, but she did. She’d been living off a diet of instant noodles and cereal whilst she’d been down here. She couldn’t cook. She burnt toast every time she tried to make it.

Back on Earth, her flat was filled with ready meals and takeaway boxes. She knew it was bad for her, but she was too busy with witch business and the fae to worry too much about her eating habits.

“Have I not given you enough choice, Candace? Why is it that I always seem to find empty packets of noodles lying around?” came a voice from the sofa.

She jumped, turning and glaring at him. He hadn’t moved from his spot. Why did he care?

“I can’t cook anything else, okay?”

It was a little embarrassing to admit. He sat up, his mesmerising eyes landing squarely on hers.

“You can’t cook?”

“No… My father tried to teach me, but I’m useless.”

The smirk which appeared on his lips irritated her. He rose, walking over and stopping on the other side of the breakfast bar.

“Oh well, you should’ve said.”

He waved a hand and a plate appeared in front of him. A full English breakfast. A mug of tea sat steaming beside it. Her mouth fell open.

“How did you…?”

“I may be known as the Devil, but I am still an Archangel. There are many things I can do. You will inform me when you require feeding from now on.”

His tone brokered no objection. He pulled out the stool and indicated she should sit down. She made her way around the counter, hesitating as she reached the stool. His hand was resting on the back of it. He was much too close to her. Her pulse spiked.

Damn it. I want him. I want him so much it fucking burns.

“Sit down before it gets cold.”

She slid onto the stool, picking up the knife and fork. He leant over her, his mouth closed to her ear. His fingers brushed over the back of her neck, before he gripped her braid. Her breath caught in her throat. What was he doing?

“I like your hair this way.”

She hadn’t really thought about what his reaction to her changing her hair colour might be. She’d chosen a mixture of red, orange and yellow in subtle tones blending into one another.

“It’s like a fire, the flames threatening to consume you. It’s very fitting, don’t you think?”

She could barely think of a suitable response to that.

“Keep it like this, Candace. Keep it this way whilst you’re burning, aching for me to take you.”

He released her braid, running his fingers down her neck again.

“I’ll know when you’ve given in.”

He walked away. She sat there, staring down at her plate of food, fighting the urge to chase after him. She wanted his hands on her again. She wanted to feel Lucifer everywhere.

And she was well and truly screwed now.

He’d stoked the flames and she was burning.

Burning for him like her flaming hair.

Fuck you, Lucifer. Fuck you.

Chapter Four

Candace strolled into the living room a few days later, looking for Lucifer. She stopped dead in her tracks. Standing in the middle of the room was a blonde woman with her hair in a