Beneath the table, Will's hands balled into tight fists.
All Lucifer had taken from her, all the shitty men of her shitty pantheon had taken from her, and here he was threatening to take more. It seemed mad, cowardly, disloyal to sit by and let him do it. The feeling of sick complicity twisted his gut.
In his mind, he roared, Get away from her, you fucking snake!
In his mind, he begged, Take me, do anything you want, just leave her the fuck alone!
In his mind, he eschewed words entirely and lunged across the table to throttle the Devil where he sat.
He couldn't trust himself to open his mouth, lest he give voice to those thoughts and damn her for truth, so he said nothing at all, and hated himself for it.