Free The Devil's Wife by Holly Hunt

magic, that's true."
          "What can you do with it?" I asked, interested. I wonder if the tales of temptation and witches are true...
          He shrugged, helping me lean forward so he could wrap fresh bandages around my waist. "I don't know. I didn't even know if it would help you with your bleeding last night."
          "Do you think it would be able to heal me?" I asked, curious. I caught a flash of some emotion in his eyes when he glanced up at me, but he looked away too quickly for me to work out what the emotion was.
          Fear? Disappointment? Anxiety? Sorrow? All four? Why would he feel that way? Unless he meant that thing about friends last night and he knows I'll leave as soon as I'm healed enough for it...
          "I don't know. I could try, if you want me to." He hesitated as he fastened the bandage around my stomach. "I can't guarantee anything, though. It might not work, or it could make it worse."
          "That's okay. Even just the chance of getting rid of this pain is good enough for me." I smiled up at him.
          He sighed, looking resigned, and pulled the bandage off my stomach, gently extracting the cotton pad from the wound. He pressed his hand onto my injury, making me jump—his hands were cold, very different from the warmth I was expecting from such human-looking skin.
          "Sorry," he said, moving to take his hand from my stomach. He probably though he'd hurt me.
          "No, it's okay," I said, grabbing his hand and preventing him from removing it. "Do what you were going to do."
          Grief flashed across Lucifer's face. He took his hand back anyway, standing up. He looked like he was going to cry.
          "I'm sorry, I'm—I'll be back in a minute."
          "Lucifer, what—?"
          The red-skinned man ran from the room, and I heard the front door open and slam closed. I frowned, worried despite myself.
          Hey, what do you know, I thought sarcastically, I'm worried about the Devil Himself. What made him do that? Was it something I did? Something I said? Both?
          I shocked myself at the depth of worry I had for Lucifer. After all, if he hadn't shown up to save me, I probably would have been dead in that alley. I laughed. Jason'll be pissed about losing all those followers. My humor faded. I hope he doesn't take it out on Jayce. Again.
          I shuddered at the thought and grabbed the rejected dressings, putting them on my wound and binding them down as best I could. I did a sloppy job at it, far worse than Lucifer's neat, precise bandaging, but I was in a hurry. I didn't want to be alone in the Devil's house. What if one of his deputies or someone like them showed up?
          That thought spurred me to action. I had no idea about the personalities Lucifer kept company with, so I wasn't going to wait for him in his bed. I threw my legs over the edge of the mattress, carefully making my way out to the deck.
          Lucifer was sitting on the edge of the wooden platform, his head in his hands. I could see tears falling from his cheeks. His shoulders were shaking slightly, and he didn't look up as I used his shoulder to sit down beside him. I thought I could hear him faintly sobbing.
          "You shouldn't be out here," he said, not even looking around at me. "You shouldn't have even have left the bed." Lucifer wiped at the tears on his cheeks and looked out at the countryside. He had quite a view from the high deck. He was rubbing his upper arms with his hands, a fresh tear falling down his cheek. "You might pull your stitches again, or get an infection."
          "I'm sorry," I said, resting my hands on my knees to ease the stress in my stomach as I moved to sit beside him. "I said something wrong again, didn't I? Something I shouldn't have?"
          Lucifer shook his head, glancing at me. His rich blue eyes were swimming with tears. "It wasn't you. It was a memory. It just