WILLOW
Willow
I moved on instinct.
It didn’t feel as if my legs were attached to my body, and even though the blade was no longer clutched within my grasp, I could feel the echo of its power within me as the one who had placed it in the flames. Tucked safely into the messenger bag at my side, I slowly made my way up the stairs.
Students passed me, but I took the precious few moments I had to let myself feel the grief over what I had to do. Once I set foot in that office, I could not feel sorry for myself. There would only be my deception.
There would only be the task I’d come here to do, finishing the job that had always been meant to be mine.
I could be the devil’s wife or the woman who sacrificed herself to save the world from his corruption.
I knew the way he slithered under the skin of all those he touched, the way he could turn us against ourselves.
I knew how easy it was to fall for his lies, even knowing that he was everything that was wrong.
I rounded the corner, pausing outside our door. I drew in a few deep breaths, centering myself and pushing back my pain and fear. I hoped he had the mercy I did not, the quick and easy death I would never get. His archdemons would make me suffer when they learned of what I did, and the rest of Lucifer’s power would leave this world with me.
I forced a hesitant smile to my face, pushing the door open and stepping into the room. Gray lounged on the couch, a book on his lap as he flipped the pages. He appeared so comfortable, so relaxed in the new home he’d created for himself here.
He looked up from his book, smiling when he saw me approach. He read the look on my face, misinterpreting it for awkwardness about my confession earlier.
Doing exactly as I’d planned, covering for the emotion that clogged my throat and kept me silent. My father had meant for me to be ruthless, for me to kill without thought or care and seduce with skill.
There was none of that left in me as I approached, stopping just in front of Gray.
I swung my messenger bag onto the back of the sofa, letting it rest there as Gray spread his legs and pulled my hips between them. His fingers brushed against the bones as he touched me, his thumbs working circles over me as he gazed up at me. “There’s no need to feel awkward, Witchling. It changes nothing between us.”
I nodded. He was right.
My love for him changed nothing.
I smiled as he slid his thumbs beneath the hem of my shirt, sucking back a breath when he touched my bare skin. “You’re humming with power,” he said, leaning forward to inhale a deep breath of me. I stilled, waiting for the moment he realized that the power trapped within me wasn’t entirely my own.
He said nothing as I took a step back, bending down to cup his cheek in my hand. I tilted his face to mine, staring at the angel before me. At this moment, he was far more the Morningstar than the devil, gazing up at me as if I were his entire world. I touched my mouth to his, kissing him gently.
Kissing him goodbye.
He groaned into the kiss, letting me place my hands on his shoulders and shove him back. He fell against the back of the sofa, smirking up at me as I lifted the hem of my dress and slid my underwear down to kick them to the side. His brow quirked when I came to him, unbuckling his belt and unzipping his fly.
“Greedy little witch,” he said, the laughter in those words making me cringe. I brushed it off as I straddled his waist, crashing my mouth to his more forcefully. I reached between us, guiding him to my entrance.
The rush of need from the red witch had faded with my stress over what I needed to do. Gray felt too big now, since I wasn’t wet. The pinch of pain grounded me, causing me to whimper into his mouth as I rolled my hips. Rising and falling with shallow thrusts, I let my body take over. It knew what to do, responding to the glide of his cock inside me and the press of his lips on mine. Gray groaned as I worked myself down his length, letting me stretch myself open.
I angled my head, tangling my tongue with his. This was far more gentle than I wanted it to be. It felt far more like making love than fucking. Gray grabbed my ass, cupping each cheek as he let me set the pace. He supported me as I raised and lowered myself on him, moving slowly as I distracted him with my kiss.
Cupping his face in my hands, I poured everything I had into making him believe me. For one single moment, I wanted him to know that I’d meant my words.
I wanted him to know he was loved, even if I couldn’t be selfish enough to choose us.
“Witchling,” he murmured, his eyes staying closed when I finally pulled away. That nickname struck the wall I’d tried to place around my heart to do this, the surface cracking as I realized it would be the last time I heard his deep voice murmur it.
The last time he would call me Witchling.
I stared down at him as his eyes fluttered open, releasing his face and placing my hands on the back of the sofa behind him. I used the leverage to take him deeper, rolling my hips more fervently. He moaned my name, his cock twitching inside me as a sign of his impending release.
I moved slowly, angling my hand into the bag and pulling the dagger free. Leaning in, I took his mouth with one last kiss; the gentle brush of my lips against his made him feel like he was already a ghost.
I knew there were tears in my eyes as I pulled back finally, placing the blade at my side. He opened his eyes, his head tilting in concern as he cupped my cheek. “What’s wrong, my love?” he asked.
My bottom lip trembled as I gave in to the threat of tears, unable to hold them back any longer. “I’m sorry,” I said, gasping through the breath that didn’t come easy.
I fought for it, trying to quell my panic at the confusion in his stare. Then I plunged the knife into his heart.
