Devilish Love

16. Taken Care Of By The Devil

Chapter 16: Taken Care Of By The Devil 

I woke up tucked comfortably in bed, with a steaming bowl of porridge next to me and a glass of water. Even though I really wanted to drink the water, something stopped me. Maybe it was me being stupid...but I did not want to be drugged again.

The room was comfortably dark. Normally I hated the dark, preferring to be in the sunshine, but this time I was glad for it. It helped to hide my face, hide everything, so I couldn't see anything and wouldn't be reminded of the stupid King drugging me and then choking me.

A sliver of light peeked in and I looked up. A tall, dark figure entered silently, and slipped to my bedside. A lamp was switched on and I blinked.

"Are you feeling better?" Lucifer asked, his chiselled face showing no feelings whatsover. In fact, he looked bored. I felt a pang in my heart and this time when I blinked it wasn't because of the light, I was blinking because I had to hold back tears. Hell was exactly what I had expected, if not worse. The people were uncaring and indifferent.

"Hey," he said, and leaned forward to cup my chin with his hand. His hand felt smooth and warm and nice...

I self consciously grabbed at my shirt, and then realised I was still in my pink dress, which was hardly any clothing. Oh, gods, that was so disgusting. I totally had to change my bedsheets now! I could not stand lying in bed with dirty clothes on, or even shoes. I was so glad Lucifer had the sense to take his shoes off at the door of my room. He was friend goals. 

Wait...

Although I considered him my friend, did he consider me his?

He looked deep into my eyes, his irises turning into dark brown. Interesting. I loved his eyes. "I think you should eat," he frowned.

"Is it drugged?" I muttered.

Surprisingly, a corner of his mouth quirked up, but only ever so slightly. I hadn't imagined it, had I? Well, anyway, Lucifer picked up the bowl and held the spoon in his left hand. 

"You're left-handed?" I asked.

"I'm ambidextrous," he explained, still looking at me. I would have melted under his soft gaze if I was crushing on him. As it was, without crushing on him, I was already trying hard not to dissolve into a puddle of water. Ianthe would probably not have a problem...a distant part of my mind wondered where she was. But I chose to ignore it first.

Lucifer poked the spoon containing some porridge into my mouth and I pouted, reluctant to eat. My stomach was still feeling a little queasy. And alright, to be honest, my mind was still accustomed to telling my mouth to eat less, chew less food, because I had to be skinny for the cameras...

The first mouthful was too hot, and I flailed my arms desperately. My tongue was going to BURN. 

"I'm sorry," Lucifer whispered, and he quickly handed me a piece of tissue paper. I wiped my mouth. It occurred to me that maybe he wasn't talking just about the porridge. Maybe he was talking about his father.

We continued this in silence, Lucifer prodding spoonfuls of porridge into my mouth and me swallowing the soft rice reluctantly. It tasted like sawdust.

When I had eaten a quarter of the bowl, I shook my head stubbornly. "I don't want no more," I said, shooting him a challenging look. Instead of retaliating, Lucifer simply sighed and nodded, accepting defeat. I frowned. He was way too nice for a Devil. What a paradox.

"You should bathe," he said as his nose finally wrinkled. I bet he had been refraining from telling me earlier, but now he was. There it was, the million dollar line: "You stink."

Slightly annoyed, I swung my legs to the side and got out, stalking to the toilet. Fine, I would bathe and show him I wasn't smelly. Lucifer always smelled good, of course, with his intoxicating smell of lavender and pine trees (probably his shampoo or soap). But I had just been tossed around like a rag doll! How could he expect me to smell good? Why was Lucifer so anal, so particular about smells? Such a weird person.

I bathed quickly, running the warm water all over my body, and used a lemony soap. Not as good as whatever soap Lucifer used, but it smelled decent when I opened the bottle to sniff it. 

Oh. Shoot. I had not taken my clothes. Or a towel. Was Lucifer still there?

"Lucifer?" I called.

A crash, then he answered "Yes?"

"Wait, did you hit anything? I hope you didn't knock down my-"

"I didn't! What do you want, Kayla?" He asked, sounding exasperated. I could imagine him frowning in his signature confused way, and the thought made me laugh. He was such an odd character. Sometimes, he was a walking meme.

"Um, I need a towel and some clothes."

A funny noise came from outside, like grumbling, but a second later the door was cracked open and he pushed a pile of clothes through the small crack. I took them gratefully and banged the door. A muffled "Ouch!" came from outside, and another crash sounded. I suppressed my giggles. What a dork.

He had read my mind. After drying my body with the white towel, I pulled on the oversized black sweater and white tights Lucifer had brought, and I couldn't help feeling grateful. It was nice that I didn't have to wear any exposing, skin showing clothes. Sometimes I just needed to cover up all the way. 

My hair was damp when I stepped back into the room, and it felt cold after the hot air of the toilet. Thank god there was proper air conditioning in Hell, or I would have died. Anyway, Lucifer was sitting on the sofa, his eyes closed. He looked so tranquil, like a male model, and not at all like a thousand-and-forty-nine year old Devil.

I sneaked up to him and threw my arms around his shoulders. He started upright, opening his eyes in alarm. "Surprise!"

He eyed me, looking cross and grumpy after his short nap. "You are going to regret this," he warned darkly, before rolling over.