She caught glimpses of the miniature statues decorating the aisles between the bookshelves. Luc's unorthodox tomes were bound by vellum, velvet, and some even looked like aged leather. There were brass, silver, and gold statues of horned and winged creatures placed among each end cap of the bookshelves. Hard to tell if they were angels, demons, or contorted conversions of both.
Finally, the corners of two sofas peeked out behind the last row of bookcases. A mammoth sandstone fireplace swallowed most of the main wall to provide heat for anyone willing to sit on the couches. Though it was early spring and cold enough for a fire, the hearth was barren of any flames. Of course, the enormous mantel showcased an angel and demon sculptured right out of the stonework itself. Impressive.
The corner of a heavy desk came into view. Andrea treaded forward, holding her breath, wondering who or what awaited her around the corner. A part of her did expect to see a red-skinned devil suit with a pitchfork and surgically forked tongue. And another part of her knew the possibility of that sight was ridiculous. However, she didn't put it past people to go all out in convincing her.
She came into full view of the lengthy wooden desk and stopped dead. Luc half leaned and sat on the edge of the front desk. His right hand covered his mouth and he seemed to be in deep concentration as he eyeballed a piece of old parchment in his left hand. Of the few rumors circulating about Luc, they described him as the most attractive sin. An understatement of words. Divinity at its finest, Luc was the embodiment of lust and a dark wickedness wrapped into one package. She tried to breathe past the arousing passion that awoke deep inside her or the nagging idea she'd met him somewhere before. Seeing him perched like a king in his castle, she momentarily forgot the reason she'd come.
Finally noticing her standing there, he lifted his head and glared in silence. His silver-metallic gaze scanned over her, and she wished she'd gone home and changed into the special after-five dress she'd laid out. She'd always gotten better results when wearing dressy things, and tonight should've been no exception. Luc had been a challenging one to land in the first place. She should've put more effort into her outfit. She didn't have enough time left of her day—bad planning, but she couldn’t do anything about it now.
She pushed a strand of her ebony hair behind her ear and rubbed the back of her neck to settle her nerves. Trying to salvage something about her appearance seemed futile. Even in his home, Luc dressed impeccably sharp. The smoky, black, three-piece suit covered a silk, dark crimson, woven design vest, complete with a matching necktie. The shady colors made his long mahogany hair stand out like a garnet gemstone and his olive skin look rich. He appeared ethereal and more angelically gothic than demonic. Inside she cheered at the fact there was no possible way this effeminate man could be the Devil. She'd never seen a man she appreciated so sexually and never had she expected him to be one of the loons she would interview. She licked her lips in burning lust and tried to push the growing thoughts in her head away.
He looked away first and started folding the sepia toned paper up. "I was beginning to think you'd changed your mind."
Andrea first listened to the melodic words that came from his throat. She let his accent wash over her, as it threatened to scramble her mind if she didn't submit to the power of his voice. Then, she actually processed what he'd said and responded.
"Oh no, this would have been done and over with years ago, had you not been such a difficult…man to get a hold of." Luc's piercing gaze found her again, as if she disrespected him with those words, or perhaps it had been the reference of calling him a "man." She'd done it with intent, to see if he would take offense to being called mortal. Most people she quizzed in the past hadn't even noticed when she called them human, but Luc noticed.
He examined her once more as if drawing up his own silent conclusions about her. She didn't appreciate being analyzed. The interview had already started off on the wrong foot. Next thing she'd know, he'd be the one cross-examining her. She needed to keep the meeting in her court because losing the conversation to Luc wouldn't be hard.
She clutched her notepad to her chest as a measly shield. "You've rejected my calls for almost two years. What's changed?" She asked to try and take some of his visual pressure off her. She could feel him analyzing her, critiquing, judging everything on the surface and maybe even on the inside. That was a crazy notion she chose to ignore. His face gave no clue of what he'd been thinking; he had to be a master at conveying no hint about his thoughts.
Luc placed the folded piece of paper in his suit pocket and smiled at her. It wasn't wicked or evil; it was pure amusement and carried a hint of sensuality that probably came with his persona. "I saw you the other day, at an Italian bistro downtown. I knew it was you because I've seen you on TV before. I thought, why not, you've asked politely and I've been rude. Plus, I've been bored a bit lately," he said as if everything she lived for was a joke to him and a way to pass the time. Of course it would be. He was a spoiled rich man who possibly hadn't ever worked a day in his life. She'd worked hard to get where she was, and she didn't take too kindly to a wealthy male mocking her career. She had to remind herself that she needed a full interview. Luc Ifer was the last milestone on her to-do list. She pursed her lips to keep from saying the brazen words that popped in her head. She'd have to start the interview with normal questions and not show how his baited words affected her.
"Okay. Uh, where would you like to do this?"
"We can start here." He nodded to the sofas, and she tried to ignore the sway of hair that slipped off his shoulder. Suave with his words, a slight accent punctuated the undertones, but she'd always been terrible at trying to pinpoint people's native tongue. Instead, she studied the sexy sharp definitions of his face. Pure manliness with a touch of femininity in the lips, it would be too easy to daydream his face. It seemed that once she absorbed him, he would be hard to forget. The sharp suit he wore made the situation worse. She did love a man in a crisp suit. It turned her brain to mush.
She finally took a step in motion to the couch. Luc watched her like a hawk, tracking her as if waiting to pounce. She was edgy from his presence, but more disturbed by the way he enthralled her. She never expected to fight off her desires during an interview, and Luc hadn't even given her any reason to suspect he found her remotely attractive. Why she even cared was a problem.
"Do I scare you?" he asked as she sat down on the deep cushioned leather.
"Not at all," she answered, which had been true for the most part.
He chuckled and moved to the couch facing hers. "I make you uneasy then?"
She decided not to answer truthfully. "Nope."
His eyes narrowed as if he sensed the lie. She gripped her favorite pen that had been clipped to the notepad and readied her hand to write in his answers to her questions. She stared at the first one; it was easy and basic and just to test the waters of his frame of mind. "Why do you think you're Lucifer?" she asked and watched him closely. Reading his facial expressions and mood changes were crucial if she wanted to catch him in a lie.
He smirked and she glanced away to keep from swooning. "Because I am," Luc declared with conviction. Andrea studied the authoritative man sitting regally in front of her. They locked gazes again and a tremor ran though her body. His gaze held wisdom, which she translated to experience. It could be knowledge in the bedroom as well. She wondered if he tasted as good as he looked.
God, this interview was going to break her internally. She hadn't been laid in a while, and everything Luc did would be sexual to her.
Get a grip.
He stood up and she tried not to tense, but instead he went to the unlit fireplace and placed a hand on the carved mantle. "Is that a good enough answer for you?" If he wouldn't go deeper into his answer, she didn't want to push him as she had the others. Though she has always been a strict cynic on things deemed supernatural, there had been something different about Luc. He carried a unique light around him the past interviewers lacked. Aside from the sexu
al juju he sent out in pulsing waves, she'd say he was a special human, a medium or something.
"Well, I guess it will have to be a good enough answer. Seeing as how it's the only answer I'll probably get," Andrea said, turning slightly to face him fully. "When did you first realize you were the Devil Himself?"
Luc laughed, uncontrollable chuckles, and at that moment Andrea believed he was no different than the past loons she'd interviewed. "I'd say whenever I felt the flames."
She frowned but wrote his answer down anyway. He had a strange way of replying to her questions, cryptic almost. As if his words explained so much but left enough to the imagination. She'd get nowhere if he continued with blasé answers.
"Why do you live here instead of Hell?" Andrea asked, happy they were finally rolling along.
"I live nowhere and everywhere, Miss Matthews," he said, trying to seem enigmatic.
Andrea scoffed. "Can you be more specific?"
"No," he said in a brusque tone. He turned to peer at her over his shoulder. "You wish to discredit me, correct?"
That question threw her off guard. "Well I…I'm searching for answers."
"To what end? Death?" Luc turned around and came to sit on the arm of the opposite couch.
Andrea sat the notepad on the coffee table, but kept her pen in her hand as a weapon should she need it. If he made a move to harm her he'd get a pen in one of those beautiful eyes. If the pen didn't stop him, she'd threaten him with the knife out of her cleavage and make her escape. "People deserve to know what is or isn't out there. And that almost sounded close to a threat, by the way." She clutched her pen, expecting him to lunge.
Luc blinked at her, then shrugged his eloquent shoulders. "I have no need to make threats."
"Right because you're the other Him and can send me to the Lake of Fire."
He tilted his head, his beautiful hair spilling down like a curtain. "Are you mocking me?"
She sighed and rubbed her temples. "I'm sorry, it's not usually my style to interview this way." Maybe she was tired or edgy. She'd been "off" all day, from shuffling her time managements, to her coherency when people asked her questions. Her day had been an odd day all around, almost as if she floated through it, slightly unaware of things happening around her. She was in the company of the infamous Luc Ifer and she teased him about his personal theories. That has never been her style, she asked the questions, wrote down the answers, and kept her mouth shut. Nit-picking never got her anywhere.
"But I never said I was the other Him. Many others make that assumption themselves." She raised her head up and stared at the most gorgeous man she'd ever seen and wondered why on Earth he had to be insane. Just my luck. He looked bored with her already, probably hating he agreed to do an interview. She despised that he acted like she was inconsequential to him when she had the power to build or break his reputation. Her pride made her sassy, but she could write the best damn article singing his praises, giving credit and titled him the Prince of Darkness. She could also write the truth and discredit the whole secret empire he'd built.
Andrea glanced down at the mundane questions scrawled on the yellow notepad, lackluster questions meant for a human pretending to be someone or something else. Since Luc genuinely believed himself to be Lucifer, her questions would have to be mind-stimulating for an ancient psyche. She sat up straighter and noticed Luc smirking at her.
"You've had an epiphany," he said with a hint of curiousness.
She returned a smug grin, trying not to be disturbed that she could be so transparent. "Of course, but question is do you want to know what it is?"
Luc leaned back. "Ask your questions, Miss Matthews."
She crossed her legs, making her skirt hike up her thigh. She did it to be an erotic tease and as planned, Luc soaked up the exposed skin. A dark hunger flickered in the depths of his bright eyes. It seemed a good guess that Luc limited his encounters with people, so a little flirt could go a long way. She might be able to play this to her advantage after all.
"How evil are you?" she inquired and waited for him to answer. Luc would probably muddle the answer a little, but the certainty on his face said she hadn't even disturbed him by asking. She expected a few "um" and "ah" moments as he delivered his spiel. Any human man trying to process what an evil being would say was bound to have slip-ups. She expected he'd simply say, "very evil," and leave the answer short and sweet. Perhaps he assumed if he seemed arcane and didn't give her a lot to draw on he would sway her into believing he was Lucifer.
Luc adjusted his black neck tie, tugging at it as if to loosen it from his neck. He ran a hand down the silky fabric. "A deity can be benevolent as well as malevolent, as described in many religious works. Who's to say I cannot be the same? Good cannot exist without evil. It is the yin and yang of life and creation, and yet the two can't permanently destroy each other. Perhaps, it is because they are of the same mold. Do you believe a single god is only one or the other, never both? Search and you will see that good does bad things and vice versa, all because they believed it justifies their own principles."
"You believe you're a god?" Andrea asked slowly, very carefully so as not to offend. Luc radiated the determination of a zealot. Power and intensity burned in his silver irises.
"I never said I was or wasn't. Look back on history. Every spiritual divinity has followers or devout believers, it's those idolizing individuals who make a being a god or goddess." Luc crossed his arms, showing the slight muscle definition through his suit jacket. "If you had followers through the epochs of time, you would be considered a goddess."
She scoffed. "Yeah, Andrea, the Goddess of Skepticism."
"Or, Andrea, the Goddess of Certainty." Andrea eyed him and wondered if he gave her a small compliment. He must've read her question from her face because he raised his palms up. "Good and bad, Miss Matthews. Where you believe you're skeptic, you also want the truth and strive to find it to share with others." He tilted his hands back and forth as if they were scales. "Yin and yang. But tell me, honestly, what are you looking for? There is more than just finding out the truth. You're searching."
A throat cleared behind her and Andrea turned to see the butler standing just before the last bookcase. He was nervous, obviously disturbing their interview wasn't something he felt comfortable doing. Good, she didn't know how to answer Luc's question. Andrea hadn't a clue on what she'd be getting out of searching high and low for real paranormal oddities. It had been more than discovering the truth, but she didn't know what pulled her toward the supernatural.
"Yes, Ortus?" Luc asked the butler.
"Forgive my intrusion, Master. Dinner is served." He bowed once and turned away, hurrying back down the aisle.
"Shall we? Or have you conveniently eaten already?" Andrea turned her gaze to the man sitting across from her. She had no plan to eat anything he gave her. This was all new and bothersome, but he had to be baiting her. Testing to see how nervous she'd be about everything. Fear meant she believed his lies, even if she wrote his exposure later. If she was too chicken shit to eat food at his house, it would be the truth he held over her forever.
Andrea stood up with mustered confidence and watched Luc do the same. His athletic body wasn't anywhere near hers, but he seemed to fill the space between them with an invisible force field. She wanted to gravitate toward him and run her hands over his body. She imagined it looked delectable under all the fabric. He cleared his throat, snapping her out of her reverie. A single dark eyebrow rose in query, but instead of making a remark of how she wanted to discover every part of his body and feel him, she stepped away from the couches and started down the aisle. She was Andrea Matthews for Christ's sakes. No man pretending to be the Devil would scare her out of an interview.
III
"The Devil, can sometimes do a very gentlemanly thing."
― Robert Louis Stevenson
Luc watched the swish of the human female's ass while she made her way out of the library. She had plumpness to her body, and in a
quick fantasy, he could almost feel her skin against him. He'd never really been enticed by the pleasures of mortal flesh, unlike his fallen brethren, but he wanted Andrea. Body and soul. There was a stronger pull on the soul in this life than before. It nearly made him mad with desire, but he had to be calm. He didn't want to scare her again. He wanted her to come to him willingly, and when she did, he'd seize the opportunity.
He held the contract for her soul in his pocket. The written oath would be binding at the time of death and this time there would be no reincarnation. She would sign it before the night ended. He'd make some sweet deal she couldn't turn down. Luc would give her a charismatic smile and unfold the paper giving him access to the radiant soul she carried. She'd be immortal, and she'd forever be his. Then fate couldn't even take the soul from him.
The lust he had for the woman was paramount and must've been essential due to his attraction to the soul. It surprised him that it hadn't waned one bit. Though her appearance had greatly changed to a caramel-skinned beauty, it didn't matter, the soul remained the same. The woman was not, but he could lov—uh, care—very much for her anyway. She could be his bride; he'd offer her financial security and all the exclusive fun times she wanted. He couldn't help but envision himself driving his cock into her as their pleasure ricocheted off his vaulted ceilings. The soul would feed him life, make him less of the monster he believed to be. Already it changed him by being in the same room.
She glanced over her shoulder, nervousness etched worry lines on her face and it shined out her brown eyes. She tried to hide the uncomfortable feeling swimming in her aura but, it glowed in her radiance. Her soul should've sensed their connection because it knew him. Even if their last meeting she considered him something to be afraid of, that feeling might be ingrained into the soul's every fiber. He'd have to break past those barriers somehow and place the Devil's Mark on her effectively. The old soul had come close to tasting its burning touch before.
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