I was in the passenger seat of the Devil’s car, and I wasn’t wearing a butt plug. That was an improvement. On the other hand, the Devil was in the driver’s seat, looking vaguely attractive without even trying to, so at best it was a mixed bag.
“Babe, you’re staring at me.”
I turned away and looked out the passenger window. “Nope. I was looking…at that bagel shop. See? They have bagels.”
Lucifer sighed, reached over the middle console, and put his big warm hand on my knee. “It’s okay, Nelly. I’m here. If things get bad, you can hold on to me. If you want me to turn the car around, just say the word. No one can blame you for taking care of yourself first. It’s like what those humans in the sexy uniforms tell you when you get on an airplane, put a mask on yourself first, then get to any screaming children when you find the time.”
“That’s not—I don’t have PTSD!”
Yeah, the PTSD thing had become a thing. It had completely replaced his amnesia obsession, and it was about as annoying. I didn’t suffer from amnesia then, and I wasn’t suffering from PTSD now. Yes, I’d been in a basement against my will two days ago, and yes, it had been…unpleasant, but I was fine. I was a professional necromancer and police consultant after all. I could handle this.
“It’s fine, Nelly. This is a safe space.”
I rolled my eyes. “Oh, fuck you, Lucy.”
He looked away from the road and right at me. “It’s the other way around, always. Remember, I told you.” He paused. “You do remember, don’t you?”
So much for getting over the amnesia.
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