It had been two weeks since Lucifer started staying in my palace, and if someone had told me I would tolerate his constant presence for this long, I would have scoffed at them. Yet, here I was, waking up to find him comfortably making my home his own.
Mornings were always the same. I would come down for breakfast, freshly showered, dressed impeccably in my mortal-world attire. Lucifer, on the other hand, would already be in the dining room, sitting cross-legged on the chair, reading the newspaper like it was his kingdom.
"Good morning, Miss beautiful Ashford ," he would say in his smooth, infuriatingly charming voice, flashing me a smile that I refused to find endearing.
"Don't call me that," I snapped every single time. "It's Amara. How many times do I have to tell you?"
"I like riling you up," he would reply, putting the newspaper down to look at me with that teasing glint in his eyes. "You're cute when you're annoyed."
"And you're insufferable," I shot back, sitting across from him.
The staff would bring out breakfast, and he would always make some absurd request.
"Do you have honey?" he asked one morning, peering over the table.
I raised an eyebrow. "What for?"
"To drizzle over my toast, of course."
"I'm not your personal chef, Lucifer."
"But you do have an entire staff," he countered, grinning.
With a sigh, I gestured for a maid to bring the honey, telling myself it was just easier than arguing with him. He always made sure to thank me in the most exaggerated manner, as if I had done him the grandest favor.
Lucifer had an uncanny ability to disrupt my work. I would sit in my study, pouring over documents that demanded my mortal-world attention, and without fail, he would saunter in uninvited.
"Don't you knock?" I asked one day, glaring at him as he leaned against the doorway.
"Why bother? You'd just tell me to leave anyway," he replied with a shrug, stepping inside.
He would settle himself on the couch, flipping through a book or scrolling through his phone, while I tried to focus on my work. But he wasn't content to sit quietly for long.
"What are you working on, Amara?" he asked, his voice lilting with curiosity.
"Nothing that concerns you," I replied curtly, not looking up.
"Are you plotting someone's demise?" I knew he just joked about it .
"Do you want me to?" I shot back, finally meeting his gaze.
He grinned, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "No need to be so hostile. I'm just making conversation."
The truth was, I didn't mind his interruptions as much as I pretended to. His presence, as annoying as it could be, brought an odd sense of warmth to the otherwise cold halls of my palace.
Evenings were his favorite time to tease me. After dinner, he would insist on sitting in the living room, coaxing me to join him.
"Come on, Amara," he said one evening, patting the seat next to him. "You can't just work all the time."
"I don't have the luxury of lounging around like you," I replied, but I sat down anyway, keeping a safe distance.
He grinned, leaning back casually. "You know, you should loosen up. Maybe I'll take you out to one of my clubs. Get you to dance a little."
I shot him a withering look. "You wouldn't survive the night if you tried."
"Is that a threat?"
"A promise."
He laughed, the sound rich and full, and despite myself, I felt the corners of my lips twitch.
As much as he enjoyed teasing me, there were moments of surprising calm between us. Late at night, when the palace was quiet and the world outside had settled, we would sit together, saying little but finding comfort in the shared silence.
One night, as we sat on the balcony overlooking the city lights, he broke the quiet.
"Why do you keep up this "getting annoyed act " , Amara?" he asked, his tone unusually serious.
I glanced at him, surprised by the question. "Why do you think?"
"You're hiding," he said simply.
I turned back to the view, avoiding his gaze. "Not everyone has the luxury of being themselves, Lucifer."
He didn't press further, but I could feel his eyes on me, as if he was trying to see through the walls I had built around myself.
By the time the second week came to a close, I realized something that both annoyed and terrified me-I enjoyed his company.
Every sarcastic comment, every teasing grin, every shared meal-each moment chipped away at my defenses, leaving me vulnerable in a way I hadn't been in centuries.
But I wasn't ready to admit it. Not to him, and certainly not to myself.
So, as he sat across from me at dinner that night, smirking as I reluctantly handed him a bowl of soup, I met his gaze with a defiant look.
"Don't think for a second that I'm doing this because I like you," I said, my tone sharp.
He raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. "Of course not, Miss Ashford. You're just being a good host."
"Exactly."
But as I turned away, hiding the small smile that tugged at my lips, I couldn't help but think that maybe, just maybe, I didn't mind having him around.
Each night, I found myself standing over Lucifer as he slept. The mortal healing process was slow, agonizingly so. I could have healed him entirely in a moment, but that would've raised questions-questions I wasn't ready to answer. So, I did it in increments, a fraction of my powers seeping into his wound each night, ensuring he noticed nothing.
By the time the second week came to an end, the wound on his arm was nearly gone. It was seamless, like it had never been there.
The study was quiet, save for the faint scratching of my pen on paper and the rhythmic tapping of Lucifer's fingers on his laptop. Despite myself, I had grown used to his presence. His occasional sighs, the soft hum of his voice as he read something under his breath-it was all familiar now.
Another sigh escaped him, this one louder, and I glanced up. "If you've got something to say, Lucifer, just say it."
He leaned back in his chair, stretching lazily. "Like my holidays are over."
I frowned, confused. "What does that mean? You're working from here, aren't you?"
He smirked, not looking at me but clearly enjoying my reaction. "I mean, I need to get back. To my real work."
Something in my chest tightened. I kept my expression neutral, unwilling to let him see how his words affected me. "And what exactly does that mean? You've been working here every day."
He glanced at me, that teasing glint in his eyes. "You know what I mean, Amara. Besides being a very legal businessman, I have another... title."
I leaned back in my chair, raising an eyebrow as if this was the most mundane revelation in the world. "Yes, yes. You're the Di Carlo heir. Mafia king. Ruler. Devil himself. What else is new?"
His gaze snapped to me, surprise flickering in his eyes. Perhaps he hadn't expected me to acknowledge it so casually, or maybe he thought I would deny knowing.
"What?" I asked, smirking. "Did you think I didn't know?"
Lucifer chuckled, shaking his head. "You're full of surprises, Miss Ashford."
I didn't respond, merely smiling faintly. After all, what was a mortal title like "Mafia King" to me? I was the Goddess of Death, and no crown or empire in this world could rival my domain.
"I guess it's time for me to pack," he said finally, standing. "My wound's healed too quickly this time, so I've overstayed my welcome."
I hummed, watching him leave the room. He was halfway up the stairs when the realization hit me-I didn't want him to leave.
The thought nagged at me, pulling at something I refused to name. I had told myself from the start that his presence here was nothing more than a means to an end-a step towards claiming the Blaze Heart. Yet, the idea of him leaving unsettled me in ways I didn't care to analyze.
If he wouldn't stay, then I would go with him.
I smirked at the thought. It was practical, of course. Being near him ensured I could continue my mission. That was the reason. Nothing more.
With a snap of my fingers, my clothes were packed and ready. By the time Lucifer descended the stairs, I was standing in the living room, fully prepared to leave with him.
He was on the phone, barking orders in that authoritative tone that sent shivers down the spines of lesser beings. But when his eyes landed on me, his steps faltered, and he ended the call abruptly.
"Amara," he said, his voice laced with curiosity and amusement. "Going somewhere?"
I opened my mouth to respond but found myself uncharacteristically at a loss for words.
He stepped closer, his smirk growing. "You didn't answer me."
His proximity unsettled me, though I kept my expression impassive. "I thought... perhaps I could come along," I said, finally.
Lucifer tilted his head, studying me like I was the most intriguing puzzle he'd ever encountered. Slowly, he reached out, his hand circling my waist and pulling me just a fraction closer.
"Of course, my moon," he murmured, his voice low and warm. "You can come along."
I blinked, caught off guard by the endearment and the gentleness in his tone. "Are you sure you know who you're inviting into your home?" I asked, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside me. I didn't think he would agree easily.
His smirk deepened as he leaned in, his forehead nearly touching mine. "I'm inviting my moon into my home," he said simply. "Anything else you want to question?"
I shook my head, rendered momentarily speechless. To my utter shock, he pressed a soft, fleeting kiss to my forehead-a gesture so unexpected, so tender, that it left me frozen.
Outside, the servants loaded our luggage into the cars. I stood by, issuing orders with practiced ease, while Lucifer watched me with a mix of amusement and something else I couldn't quite place.
When the time came to leave, he opened the car door for me.
"Thank you," I said, the sincerity in my voice surprising even me.
He grinned. "Anything for you, moon."
As the car pulled away, heading towards his home, I allowed myself a small, secretive smile. He had invited Death into his home, and while the irony wasn't lost on me, I found myself silently vowing something unexpected:
This Death would protect him, even from herself.