Lucifer is sprayed with blood. There’s an arc that goes right along his impeccable abs—from his navel, upward, across his face. I feel sticky. I know it’s all over me too. I want to straddle his lap. Lick his face. Suck his lips. Bite his neck. Grind myself against him. He observes me like I’m the most wondrous thing in the whole universe. The Devil is looking at me with barely contained awe. At the carnage I’ve wreaked. At the way my chest heaves with the thrill of it.