Page 169 of The Bonds of Indigo

My exhale is slow, controlled, my body wrestling my brain for dominance because fuck, the way he says that so casually makes me want to melt into the chair.

“Very good… Witch!” Belial calls for me like I’m a servant, and irritation spikes hard enough to make my jaw clench.

“Father, please.” Lucifer’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes as he looks at him. “Her name is Amarah. You should be respectful to some degree. She did, after all, do you a favor.”

“And I plan to ask for more.”

Steady, heart. Steady.

A soft caress brushes across the back of my hand where it rests on the arm of the chair. I glance down to see Lucifer’s shadows curling around it in an attempt to comfort me.

“She risked death to send me to the Vayl,” Lucifer continues, tone sharp but staying polite. “That’s enough favors for a mirror.”

I’m not going to comment, because it isn’t just a mirror. When I glance at Proserpina, she’s watching me curiously.

“Plus,” Lucifer adds, “as I’ve said, she’s mine. And if she’s going to be doing any favors for anyone, it’s me.”

I can’t help rolling my eyes, which shockingly earns a soft snicker from his mother.

When waiters appear around us, I look up to see pale, Mundane-looking men dressed in white or black tuxes. They look sickly. Sunken eyes, cracked lips, nearly colorless irises that never shift toward me or anyone else at the table. My server places a plate before me, covered with a silver cloche.

“It matters not to me,” Belial says. “You’ve brought her here, and I can’t imagine it’s just to wet your cocks.”

Wait… plural?

“Honey, please,” Proserpina sighs, though her tone stays warm. “Let’s not be animalistic at the table. Lucifer hardly joins us anymore, and I’d rather not scare him off. Plus, I like the girl.”

“You’ve known her for mere minutes.”

She lets out a soft laugh. “Days, in the mortal world. And I’m an excellent judge of character.”

“Amarah,” Belial says, and honestly, I would’ve preferred he stuck to Witch. “You are a Yldarwright, correct?”

I reach for the cloche.

“Do not eat all of it,” Lucifer warns. “The food is heavy and will make you sleepy. The last thing I want is for you to fall asleep at this table.”

“I’m disrespected you think I’d just go to sleep right here.”

I feel his sigh in my head. “You have no idea, dollface. Just trust me. But, please eat, just don’t overdo it. Feed that cute, growling stomach of yours.”

“Stop listening to my stomach.” Why I say that out loud, I have no idea.

Lucifer laughs beside me, and that sound sends butterflies to fill my very empty tummy.

Mortified at myself, I finally mutter a response to Belial. “Yes, sir.”

“Pureblood?” he asks.

“Mhmm.” I lift the cloche, revealing the most delicious-smelling food I’ve ever encountered. I don’t know if I’m truly famished, like Lucifer said, or if it really smells that good. A roasted turkey leg, fluffy white mash of potatoes, I think, drenched in gravy, and a vegetable that resembles asparagus but without the stem.

“Not many of you left,” Belial says, “especially after that massacre.”

“Calm yourself, Mara.”

“Yes, you’re right.”

“Do you have a point, Father?” The sharp anger in Lucifer’s tone warms low in my stomach.