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“I wish I could believe you. I wish I could trust that you wouldn’t leave me, but you tell such pretty lies, wife. I can’t believe a single one of them,”
Willow. You are the wife of Lucifer Morningstar, so you need to consummate with me.”
“If I catch you, then you’ll give me the fight I’ve come to crave from you. If I catch you, we will go to war in the way our souls already know—until my body recognizes every inch of your skin by touch. When I catch you, I will fuck you, and we both know you’ll love every goddamn minute of it,”
“I want to fuck you when you’re so mad you try to claw my eyes out. I want to fight you, and then I want to fuck you while you direct all that anger toward me.”
“Only a fool would dare to underestimate you, my love,”
“You can choose anything else you want, anything, as long as you choose me,”
“I have given enough. I have lost enough. I am not going to lose you, too.”
“Would you?” he asked. “Stay? Would you choose me?” he asked, and the vulnerability in that question reminded me of someone so much younger than Lucifer Morningstar. “I don’t know. I can’t choose you until you give me the choice,”
“I love you, Witchling. For everything you are and everything you are not.”
I hoped he wouldn’t see the knife coming later. I hoped he would feel no pain.
“You are worth so much more than a fucking sacrifice, Willow. I’ve failed you if you don’t know that.”
“Nothing here has any value without you. You’re my home,”
“They would gladly sacrifice you if it meant the world survived, but I wouldn’t. I would never walk this plane again if it meant I had you at my side in Hell.”
Her pleas were far more beautiful than any of the souls who prayed to my father, far more stunning than any of the condemned who begged me for mercy. She made me a god, and her body was my altar.
Who needed Heaven when I had my wife’s body ready and waiting for me?
“Fuck the balance. I’ll watch the world burn before I allow it to force you into something you do not want,”
