I drive straight to the forest not looking back. Speeding pasted the limits in ways I know he wouldn't approve, but I have to know what he is doing. I can't allow myself to let him torture her, I want to know some answers from her first. Straight from her mouth, not his. I needed to know why she is doing this. Does she sincerely want to hurt me? Or is she doing this to get to Lucifer?

When I arrive, I pray that I remember the way to the cottage. I slam my car door shut and lock it, shoving the keys into my denim jacket and start running.

Naturally, I am very cautious of my surroundings. Last time I was here I was being chased by some demon trying to attack me. Last time I was here is also the same night Lucifer told me who he actually is. I don't find myself reminiscing on those memories often, nor should I do it now. I shake my distressful thoughts out of my head and speed-walk ahead.

The ground is dry, it seems that it hasn't rained in a few days. The leaves on the hard mud crunch under my sneakers. The wind is soft, how ironic considering my anxiety is through the roof. The bright orange and dull brown leaves are dancing down in pirouettes to the ground. The golden hour making it seem quite magical. The scenery almost distracts me from the real reason I am here.

Only problem, I am struggling to find my way around these woodlands. Every trail looks the same to me.

Fuck. What do I do now?

Endlessly getting lost, the sun begins to set and the air around me begins to darken. I have to stop to recollect myself and my emotions. I don't want to have a panic attack in the middle of the woods again, especially not when I am all alone.

Soon enough, I gain enough confidence in myself to continue walking and somehow, by a very slim decision that I have made in my turns, I have found the cottage, but it is now night-time, and all I can think about is, I hope I made it in time.

I walk through the front door and I am met with Lucifer's aroma, cinnamon fills the air just as if he is here with me in person.

I walk around the cottage, the old floors creaking beneath me, but I can't seem to find him. The cottage is small enough that I would be able to hear him, yet I just can't. Are my instinct that off?

Feeling like a lost cause I sit down on the plush leather sofa, I feel cold pulling the denim material closer to my body; hugging myself. The fireplace isn't lit. Perhaps, my intuition with him isn't as good as I thought it would be.

Maybe, I should just spend the night here. I don't want to get lost in the night again.

I stand and as I do, I feel a noisy creek on the floor beneath my left foot. I press my entire body weight on it and it creeks again, like none other. It's like there is a hole on the other side.

I kneel down and move the carpet out of the way. Much to my surprise there is a small indent in the floorboards. I place my small fingers around it and lift.

"Holy shit!" I gasp when I notice a number of concrete stairs leading down to a hallway. Without allowing myself time to debate whether this is a good idea, I climb down.

It is really chilly down here, almost like I have entered a human sized freezer, except it's all made of stone. As I continue walking down the stone-cold hallway, I hear a sound, and it sounds disturbing. Like I have just invaded someone's nightmare.

A song echoing, loud. It's a song from the 60's maybe, I can't seem to tell, it sounds sad yet with an upbeat tempo. The closer I get the more I realise it's a song called 'laughing on the outside'. I can also hear screams. Masculine? Feminine? Both!

I freeze in my tracks. Do I want to know what is happening? Yes...No...

My feet begin walking again until I reach a big window with a small white door. The things that I see through the glass make bile pile up to my mouth. I cover it to stop myself from screaming. The scene is just too much. Its horrific. Disgusting. Disturbing.

There is a woman strapped up to a chair, ones that you get in your dentist's office. She is screaming, I can hear it all through the loud tunes of the song while a knife is grazing against her arm opening up her flesh in perfect precision. There is a pool of blood all over her body, even some splatters on the window I am looking through. Her eyes look like they are about to pop out, nose and mouth covered in gore and a crucifixion scene; her feet nailed to the ground, turning purple.

I take a step back when I notice its Lucifer. He is smiling. Truly smiling in complete peace and enjoyment. His black eyes sparkling in the harsh medical lighting. The pleasure I see him receive from this is too much.

My eyes shift around the room and notice a barely breathing body on a surgical table. It's so lifeless. So vulnerable. The persons hand is hanging off the table his wrist attached to his body by a mere single nerve, allowing it to dangle. The prevue of bitterly cut bone and all its flesh...

From the distance that I am standing at, I see their intestines are bursting out. The view is repulsive. It's like I have entered a movie scene, except all the props are authentic and all the blood is real, and all the screams are distressing. This scene is truly an imprint in my mind for a lifetime.

I can't hold my screams in anymore. I step back and hit my foot of a bucket of water spilling it everywhere. This causes Lucifer to turn around and notice me. He mouths something but I don't hear it. I press myself against the wall and before I know it, I am running for the hills.

This is what he meant by torture. This is way more than I could have ever imagined it to be. He warned me about it over and over, but I never wanted to believe it. Those poor innocent souls. How can he? I don't want to deem this is the extent of his needs.

Once outside I run for the trees but the bile in my stomach builds up again and I have to stop and empty out my disgust by a tree. Tears following suit. Why the fuck am I crying? I'm more sickened by what I witnessed than wounded by the fact that the love of my life is a sociopathic murderer. But does this make me a hypocrite? I myself have killed. I was a child, but I did it, nevertheless. But the big issue is, he enjoyed it, I didn't.

I have to get myself together, but the imprint of that scene just won't budge from my mind, so I keep running.

In the end I arrive at a small pond, or is it a lake? Honestly, I don't care much about it at this point. I have to get away from everything that I witnessed.

I sit down on the wooden board leading to the drenches, the full moon glistening against the water.

I want to slap myself in the face. What was I expecting? I know exactly what he is, and he has told me more than once about his torture hobbies. I shouldn't be surprised. I shouldn't be shocked. But I am.

Never in a million years could I have thought that I would be dating the very Devil himself, never mind one that looks so human that enjoys tormenting.

Do I even want to be with him anymore? Do I want to be involved with such...things?

I'm feeling conflicted. I can't lie to myself, I still love him. It's impossible to just stop loving someone, but it is often the people that we love and love you back that end up hurting you the most. But he hasn't hurt me yet, not physically.

Do I really have the gut and muscle to stay with him and still be myself? Wouldn't I have to change? Perhaps I should, maybe that will make it easier to cope with all of this. Be more heartless towards the wrongdoers. But is that me?

I twiddle with my fingers resting on my lap. My breathing shallow but heavy. Fear has not left me, and it only increases when I hear footsteps on the boardwalk. I don't dare look up, I can already tell who it is.

"Why did you follow me?" I voice out loud trying to sound solemn, but my voice sounds too weak, it breaks at each syllable.

"Why?" I demand and tears begin to pool in my eyes.

"I needed to know you are safe, what you witnessed down there," he pauses to sit down beside me. "You were never supposed to see that."

"Yeah well, I did, so what are you gone do about it!" I snap at him but closely regret it when I see his sorry eyes. Immediately, I have to look away, embarrassed for making him feel even more guilty than he already is feeling.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

The silence of the woods engulfs me once more. Like a dark creature wrapping itself around my shoulders. A very small part of me welcomes it with open arms.

"I really don't know what else to say besides, I'm sorry," he says to me and I can hear in his voice that he means it.

I close my eyes, breathe in deeply before I open them again and rest my head on his shoulder.

"This is you, I realise that now," I begin. "I am surprised, shocked even by how much pleasure you get from it and I don't want your behaviour to change mines."

"Annabelle it won't-"

I place my hand on his chest to stop him from talking, I need him to know how I feel. Slowly it glides down and I grip onto his arm, tightly.

"I know you wouldn't ever want me to change, or force me to do that...stuff, it's scary, it terrified me, but I know I have to accept it as part of who you are."

I sigh before I say the next words.

"But I still can't imagine leaving you."

I lift up my head to glimpse at him. My hand brushes against his cheek, urging him to look at me.

"My world wouldn't be the same without you in it."

Tears threaten their appearance again when he finally looks at me, that's how I notice a tiny stain of blood on the side of his forehead. I brush my finger against it, its dry.

Something overcomes my body and I latch my lips to his, like a hungry lion about to eat its pray. I press him closer to me, as close as I can. He tries to resist. Gently pulling me away by the shoulders.

"Annabelle, no, we shouldn't," he breathes.

"Please," I beg. "Please I need this, I need you."

My mouth crashes against his again, hard, heated, demanding. I want him. God, I want him now.

His tongue pushes inward, hot and sensual, gliding over mines and licks playfully at the roof of my mouth and swirls around my tongue in a delicate dance.

We aren't just kissing now. We are devouring each-other. Possessing one another's souls and bodies.

I go boneless, seeking more as I take off my denim jacket and start unbuttoning his blood-stained shirt. Some wet red stains catching their way to my fingers, but I ignore it. I am too hungry for this man.

I grow inpatient as I try to win my way through to his bare chest. My desperation causes me to rip my way through the buttons and slide off the material down his broad shoulders.

"Whoa Anna!" he voices surprised.

A wicked grin appears on my face. "Just shut up and kiss me!" I order as I push him down and get on top, leaning my body forward so my lips meet his.

I start grinding my hips into him. Slowly I feel his erection growing and brushing against me even through my jeans and his expensive slacks.

I sit up to take off my top, pausing when I notice his chest covered in dyes of his victims blood. My soft fingertips tap on the pigments, spreading them all over my hands, then I brush them up to his neck and cup his face. We are in a bloody mess and I am too hot and bothered to care.

As we kiss, he flips us over and gets on top. My bare back is pressed against the hard splinters that you call wood, hurting and scraping against my smooth skin but his lips on my body is enough to distract me from the pain.

His touch burned my hypersensitive skin. Putting me in a euphoric experience. Wanting, begging for more. I needed him, my body needed him.

"Get up," he orders me suddenly.

My face heated in desire looks at him muddled.

"Get up!" he repeats more sternly, holding out his hand for me.

I take it and as soon as I'm up on my feet he takes off my sneakers and slides me out of my jeans. Swiftly, he picks me up and starts walking.

Soon my back smashes against the bark of a tree, scraping my skin. I wrap my legs around his waist for support, hooking my ankles together pulling him closer to me. Feeling the bulge in his slacks against my wet panties.

Grabbing his shoulders, I pull myself closer to him, pressing my chest against his not caring if any red pigment is going to transfer onto me.

Forcefully he kisses me with heated desire pressing my head back onto the tree. I try to move my hips, rubbing myself against his bulge, I want him inside me.

"Are you sure you want me to fuck you?" he asks searching my eyes for approval.

I nod feeling too breathless to utter a word.

His hand reaches down between my legs his fingers pressing at the wet patch left at my entrance.

"Always so ready for me Anna," he says in his husky voice of seduction as he pulls my panties to the side and slips two fingers inside me.

"And so, fucking tight."

I moan as I squeeze my walls around his fingers massaging me. He collects my juices and withdraws. I watch with craving as he licks his fingers to taste me. Licking his lips in the process.

He fidgets with the zipper of his slacks and takes out his erection, teasing me with the tip. His precum mixing with my wetness before he enters me slowly, inch by inch.

Once he is fully inside, he stills grabbing my jawline with his hand forcing a kiss out of me, long, rough and destructive.

His hand moves down to my neck, not quite squeezing it, he pushes me harder against the tree once he starts to thrust.

The pleasure overwhelms me, I nearly come on the spot when his thrusts quicken causing me to scratch at his back. The idea of leaving a stamp of myself on his body like this only turns me on even more.

"Damien," I usher realising that is not his name in my books anymore. I clamp down my teeth into my lip.

He growls like a wolf that's woken from a nap and is starving, for me.

He pushes deeper inside me, pressing himself into me like he just can't get enough. But my mind starts sparling. The pleasure is great but images of what I have observed not too long ago begin racing in front of my eyes like a camera flashing pictures. It all feels so real like I am transported back into the room for a little while.

"Fuck!" I hear Lucifer brining me back down to earth as I feel him release himself into me. Panic within me starts to bloom.

"No!" I let out, he pauses inside me looking at me puzzled. His brows creasing forming that little worry crease.

"Stop, please," I choke out and immediately he takes himself out of me and puts me down. I fix my panties and lean my body against the tree.

Looking down, my hands and chest are covered in blood, it makes me queasy. I can hear my own shallow breath when I look up and notice Lucifer has tucked everything back in and is coming back with my clothes in his hands. I take the shirt, pulling the linen material over my head.

A sickening feeling comes right back to my mouth. Quickly, I turn around and puke. Lucifer tries to pull my hair back, but I try to push his hands away from me.

"No, don't look at me like this!" I scream only to nearly choke on the upcoming bile in my throat.

"Annabelle, you're sick, let me take care of you," he says in a soft and low voice calming me. One of his hands moves and grasps my hair out of my face while the other travels up and down my back soothing me. I'm bent over my hand holding onto the tree to stabilise myself.

"Let me take you to the hospital."

"No, I don't need to go, I'm fine," I say whipping my mouth with the tissue he magically presents me with.

When I stand back up straight, I feel the dizziness and emptiness of my stomach. Lucifer holds me up by my shoulders, gazing down at me worriedly.

"Please let me take you to the hospital," he continues his plea and I give in nodding. I know that he will keep pestering me about going just in case until I finally agreed, I just want to have it over and done with.

He helps be back into my jeans and sneakers, puts my jacket over my shoulders and carries me off back into the cottage in his arms.

He walks us straight over to the bathroom, placing me on the sink counter. I pull off my jacket and let it drop to the floor. My head felt heavy and I struggled to keep my eyes opened. I'm tired, overwhelmed and feeling ill again.

Lucifer's fingertips graze against the side of my body as he takes off my shirt. My blood-stained chest is in full and perfect view for his eyes but on this rare occasion he doesn't look at me with lust and passion, rather sorrow and sympathy.

I watch as he takes out a white cloth and makes it wet under the running water at the sink. He squeezes out the excess water and smooches himself in-between my legs.

Gently, with his fingertips he lifts up my face to look at him, caressing my cheek with his thumb.

"You are so pale, for fuck's sake Anna," he groans in annoyance then softens.

"Let me wash you up before we go."

He starts grazing the wet washcloth against my marked breasts, washing off the evidence of the suffering of his victims.

I lean my head forward, clashing it into his bare chest. I try smelling the cinnamon scent of his body, but it's tainted with a metallic tinge, it almost makes me sick again.

I sigh taking the cloth out of his hand and washing him with it.

"My turn now."

He tries to step back and comment but before he does, I shush him.

"Please it's a good distraction."

He manifestly relaxes, allowing me to wash off the blood from his chest, neck and hands. I feel weak but I think I do a good job, just taking my sweet time with it. Allowing his body aroma to swipe through as the metallic tummy sickening tinge disappears.

When we're done Lucifer disappears to grab something, so I take this opportunity to jump off the counter put on my shirt and wash my hands and rinse my mouth with water. My throat is still hurting from all the vomiting, like a sting except it is all over.

I look myself in the mirror and realise that he is right. I am pale, a sickening kind of pale. Jeez I look like a fucking train wreck.

"Here, put it on, I don't want you getting cold," I hear Lucifer say, I twist my head towards him, and he pulls over a knitted sweater over my head.

Once we are fully cleaned and dressed Lucifer carries me through the midnight forest walk to my car and drives off.

Once we arrive at the hospital, we walk through the emergency doors. The smell of rubber gloves and rubbing alcohol makes me nauseous. I hate hospitals. I fucking hate them. If I could I would turn on my heels and leave but Lucifer is too damn persistent and insisted I get checked out.

There aren't that many people here much to my surprise, but then again it is around midnight. I fill out some paperwork and have a nurse check my blood pressure and my temperature. After we just have to wait.

"I'm sorry," I utter to Lucifer as we sit and wait for me to be seen by a doctor. I feel his gaze burning into me, but I don't look up from my fidgeting hands.

"What are you sorry about?"

"Earlier...how I just made you stop after I begged you to fuck me," I say trying to sound as unashamed as possible, thought it doesn't stop my cheeks from turning bright pink. It doesn't do my pale complexion any favours.

He reaches his hand out onto my lap and grasps my nonstop moving fingers in his palm, and clasps.

"Hey, you have nothing to be sorry about, if anything I believe I owe you an orgasm."

His words make me let out a chuckle. I feel better already.

"You know we didn't have to come here, I'm feeling fine," I say peeking up at him through my lashes.

"You expect me to believe that? You boked twice on the way here!"

"Yeah and now I'm fine," I say sitting up straighter in my seat. I really just want to get out of here. His eyes dart away from me.

"Annabelle Bennett!" I hear my name called out.

"The doctor is calling for you, let's go."

He stands grabbing my hand and pulls towards the direction of the aged man in a white coat.

"But-" I try protesting but he growls at me with his eyes and I know this means defeat. He wraps his arm around my back and ushers us forward.

I sit on the sandpaper towel on top of the bed silently after my talk with the doctor, I have my bloods taken and a urine sample taken. Lucifer hasn't left my side at all, jeez he even wanted to follow me to the bathroom when I have to go pee in the cup.

His phone continues to ring but he refuses to pick it up, it is beginning to infuriate me.

"Who in the world is calling you so much?" I ask, irritation clearly evident in my voice.

"Skyler."

I raise my eyebrow at him.

"Aren't you going to pick it up?"

"No."

"Pick it up!" I say as it rings again. He stays still like a weeping angel statue.

I groan loudly.

"Lucifer pick it up already!"

Nothing on his end.

"Leave the room and pick up the fucking phone! I'll be fine in here," I say feeling exasperated.

Finally, I got through to him. He reaches for the phone in the pocket of his jeans and picks it up to his ear.

"Skyler give me a minute," he says as he stands up.

"I'll just be a moment," he says but it sounds more like he is telling me not to move without his awareness.

He kisses the top of my head and leaves.

Just seconds later my doctor comes back, pulling his reading glasses back down onto his nose from the top of his head.

"Looks like you just have a simple case of dehydration, an overnight stay with some IV fluids should get you right back to your feet," he says, and I feel a sudden relief wash over me.

"Fantastic, thank you."

"There is something else," he says his voice suddenly serious. He peeks at me over the top of his glasses.

"What is it?" I ask unexpectedly anxious for my own health.

"It appears you are pregnant Miss Bennet."