Rachel blinked as Lucifer spoke. Then, without warning, she launched forward like a plasma bolt.
Lucifer didn't even get a chance to flinch before she tackled him, knocking him clean off his feet and onto the carpeted floor of her own room—again. Her knees pinned his shoulders, and her hands gripped his collar tight enough to wrinkle fabric engineered not to wrinkle.
"What did you just say?" she hissed, eyes blazing. The kind of fury that didn't burn—it froze. Cold, furious logic swirled in her expression, and the emotion underneath it was betrayal.
Lucifer kept his hands raised in the universal gesture of "please don't murder me before I finish explaining."
"Rach," he said, slowly and carefully, as if trying to disarm a bomb with his words. "Just—"
"Rachel, relax," Rose said quickly, stepping closer, though not close enough to get caught in the splash radius.
