As we made our way to a part of the castle I was completely new to, I begun to feel my anxiety rising. Wringing my hands, my thoughts ran a thousand miles an hour. The stone walls and high ceilings did nothing to dispel the foreboding feeling in my stomach.

I almost wished the walk was longer. Anything to stall for time for a even a few minutes would've been most welcome.

"Right this way," Marcus said, opening the oak door with a flourish. I gave a tight smile, appreciating his efforts to lighten up the situation despite their ineffectiveness.

The daemon's room was so, so different from Lucifer's. It was almost comical.

The room was smaller than his, but far from cramped. Whereas Lucifer's bedroom floor was a plush white carpet, in Marcus' room, the floors were polished wood, giving the space a rustic feel. The king-sized bed was covered in a deep burgundy quilt; therefore, Marcus didn't seem to share Lucifer's aversion to color. Terrifyingly, unlike the bare walls of my angel's room, the walls here were lined with weaponry of every shape and size. I grinned at him and pointed at a halberd that was taller than I was. He grinned back, shrugging.

How the fuck did I not realize he had fangs before now?

"I'm in charge of security, A. I need my toys."

Fair enough.

"So, you want to tell me what's eating you?"

I took a deep breath, "yeah, I do."

He gestured to a pair of wooden chairs in the corner, and I sat down nervously, perching on the very edge, facing him.

"As you may have noticed," I began, "I know a thing or two about hand-to-hand combat."

Marcus chuckled, "I'll say. You killed a minor angel and kicked the most powerful archangel in the balls. You even beat up Benjamin! You've got my respect, to say the least."

I grimaced, "well, though I am grateful for my abilities, I came by them in a rather unfortunate way."

He gestured for me to continue, his face reassuring. Overly so. It looked super painful, actually.

Well, hell. There wasn't a pleasant way to begin this story, so I might as well rip the band aid off in one fell swoop.

"When I was ten, my mom was raped. She was attacked on her way home from work, she was an RN, and she worked the night shift. She was ambushed, and barely made it home alive. She'd had to crawl over a mile to get home. My father found her on the porch, with a broken arm, several broken ribs, massive internal bleeding, and extensive psychological trauma."

I fought tears as I talked, trying not to look at the horrified expression on Marcus' face.

"After days of medical treatment and months of therapy, my mom was left with PTSD, and my dad was terrified.

"He was wonderful with her; treated her like a queen. I don't know how he had the patience to be so gentle with her. She had the best support anyone could ask for, and she made huge leaps and bounds in terms of her mental health. At first, everything was fine.

"Then, one day, when I was twelve, I ended up having to stay a little late after school to talk to my teacher. It was only around a half an hour, but when I finally walked home, my father had worked himself into a panic. Like me, he has an anxiety disorder. He was terrified that something had happened to me. He kept thinking of my mother, of that night. How he hadn't worried when she'd been a little late. That's when I realized how much he blamed himself for what happened."

I sniffled, and instantly there was a tissue in my face. I gave the daemon a watery grin.

"Sorry, Marcus. You don't have to-"

"Don't apologize, A. Keep going, you can't keep this inside."

I nodded and continued.

"He was the best father I could ask for, but that night he realized that I was so vulnerable, and he spent the next few months constantly anxious. So, my parents decided to hire a self-defense instructor. His name was Mikah. He was very qualified, a veteran, MMA fighter, overall, he was simply an expert. He was a pleasant guy, too. My parents were delighted. They were confident I'd soon be able to hold my own in a fight.

"He tutored me over the next few years, and everything was fine until I turned fifteen. Then, he began...he..."

"Oh, God. Ammi..." Marcus choked, looking aghast. His ruby eyes watered and his whole body trembled with emotion. I smiled ruefully through my tears.

"What my parents didn't know was Mikah had begun to abuse me."

"Fuck, A..."

I ignored him, continuing dully, "I was helpless. I trusted this man, and at first, I didn't think much of it. By the time I began to truly feel threatened, it was too late.

"I told my dad, and he was furious. He confronted Mikah immediately. I'd never seen him so downright murderous. My dad was the sweetest man I knew. He'd never even raised his voice towards me before. But he did more than raise his voice then.

"It quickly became violent, and Mikah, he...he snapped his neck...right in front of me. Luckily, my mom hit him over the head with a cast iron skillet, and we ran. The police couldn't find him, so we went into hiding. The town that Lucifer found us in was the fourth time we'd moved in as many months. My mom was sure he'd find us if we stayed in one place for too long. We lived in constant fear...two fucked up sexual assault victims with emotional trauma and knives under our pillows."

I finished my story, unable to stop the silent tears from flooding down my cheeks. It was silent for a moment, before I was enveloped in a crushing hug. I froze, unable to process for a moment. When I was running with my mom, I felt I couldn't confide in her. She had been raped. I didn't want to trigger one of her episodes or cause her any pain. I was so used to telling myself that even though I'd been sexually abused, Mikah had never actually raped me. I told myself that my trauma was less important, less significant, than hers. That it barely counted.

I'd never let someone comfort me like this.

So, I clawed at Marcus' shirt, and wailed. I emptied all of my fear, all of my guilt, all of my self-hate into an inhuman cry that echoed throughout the room. I sobbed and snarled and screamed in uncontrollable, paralyzing emotion.

I barely heard the door to Marcus' room slam open. I didn't register their quick, furious exchange. I barely felt anything until I was pulled from the daemon's embrace and into a new one. The scent of spices and chocolate flooded my senses, and I dissolved into silent, raking sobs as my angel crooned brokenly into my ear. Before long, I fell into a blissfully numb darkness.

I woke up to warmth and solace, but I woke up from a nightmare.

I sat up, shaking and sweating. I was in bed, the silky gray sheets twisted around my legs, the scent of my angel calming my ragged breathing. I pulled my knees to my chest, resting my forehead on them and I dried my tears. I hated that he still haunted my dreams. That he still had a hold over me.

"Rika?" A groggy, hoarse, yet somehow still sexy voice came from beside me.

I looked over and barely stifled my gasp of horror.

Lucifer was slouched in a chair near the bed, and he looked awful. His clothes were rumpled and disheveled, his normally impeccable shirt unbuttoned. His hair was in complete disarray, most likely due to anxiously running his hands through it. His eyes were bloodshot, and he had obviously not shaved recently. It tore my heart to shreds to see him so distressed.

"Lucifer, oh, god. What happened?" I cried, moving towards him.

He recoiled. I froze mid motion, my hand outstretched, confused and hurt.

"Don't do that, Rika. Don't you fucking do that," he snarled, coming violently to his feet, "don't you dare ask me if I'm okay! I walked in to see you in agony, so much that you passed out. You've been out for two damn days, and you're worried about me?"

I felt my heart sink to my stomach, fluttering weakly.

"He told you." It wasn't a question. The look he was giving me was all the proof I needed. He looked positively haunted.

"He did Rika. Father above, he did."

My eyes burned, and I blinked back tears, "how much did he tell you?"

"Oh, Kitten. Not much. I wanted to respect your privacy as much as I could. But I know enough."

"God, what must you think of me?" I whispered, my heart clenching in my chest.

"No, no! Don't you go there, Amirykal," the angel hissed, holding my face in his warm, calloused hands, "I will never think less of you, and this is not your fault. You were victimized and taken advantage of by a person with power over you. I am only angry I wasn't there to send him to hell."

Relief washed over me. And then what he said sunk in.

I cackled, holding my hands to my abdomen. I threw my head back and fell against the mattress, my whole body shook violently.

"What, Rika?" Lucifer asked, giving me a bemused smile, "what's so funny?"

"You-" I choked out between giggles, "you said you'd send him to Hell. To Hell Luce. Which is funny, because-"

I was cut off as he crushed me into a hug, my voice muffled against his hard chest.

"You are goddamned ridiculous, Rika," he growled, "and I know it's probably because of the stress, so I will re-emphasize this, so it gets into your thick skull: you are perfect. And knowing your past doesn't that."

"Oh, thank God!" I cried, throwing my arms around him. He held me close, rubbing my back and stroking my hair. Soon, I had calmed into an almost euphoric state. The stress of judgement had gnawed away at me for so long. I felt limp and numb with intense bliss.

After what seemed like forever, Lucifer broke the comforting silence.

"Rika, Kitten. Do you feel comfortable talking about it now?"

I nodded against his broad shoulder, inhaling his scent deeply before pulling back. He held on to my hands, and I was grateful for the physical contact.

"What don't you know?"

"The name, and the extent to which he..." Lucifer trailed off with a snarl, baring his white teeth in a primal growl. I squeezed his hand, and he relaxed slowly, breathing deeply.

"He didn't ever actually...all the way," I answered, trying to keep my voice steady, "he touched me over clothing, and...made me touch him."

The angel made a choked, pained grunt and let his head fall forward into my lap. I ran my fingers through his hair, centering us both.

"It could be worse," I joked awkwardly.

"There is no 'worse', Rika," he said from in my lap, "there is only what happened and how much it hurt you. If he had gone further, it would not have been 'worse'. It would be painful and traumatizing, but not 'worse'."

I continued stroking his hair, processing, feeling my heart grow at his words. I don't know how, but he knew exactly what to say.

"Who was it, Rika?"

I grimaced, "would it change anything?"

He flipped over, so he was staring up at me from my lap, his blue eyes passionate and vengeful.

"Yes, it would. Because when his soul comes for judgement, I know exactly who to leave in the worst possible eternal torment."

"You don't do that to all molesters and pedophiles?" I asked, genuinely curious.

"Of course I do," he scoffed, "but this is something I'll be sure to plan out personally."

I thought for a moment and decided that knowing that the monster who had tormented me my entire life would suffer in the afterlife was something I would be pretty damn okay with.

"His name was Mikah. Mikah Caelum."

Lucifer froze, and I mean completely froze. Like, I was sure he had stopped breathing.

"Luce, what is it? What's wrong?" I asked, placing my hands on either side of his face urgently.

"No. Impossible," he whispered, his lips barely moving.

"What's impossible? Luce, you're scaring me," I said nervously.

"I know who that is," Lucifer growled, "and now, I have to go kill my brother."