Extinguish

by J. M. Darhower

  Her unsteady hands explored his sculpted back as her body tried to adjust to him inside of her, her fingers acclimating to the rough texture of his skin. She let out a shuddering breath when his lips found hers again, messily kissing her with abandon, teeth gnashing together.

  "Do you like that?" he murmured against her mouth. "Does it feel good to have me inside of you, fucking you?"

  "Yes," she panted, a shiver tearing down her spine at his filthy words.

  "Not good enough," he growled. "You can still speak."

  Lucifer bit down on her lip, piercing the skin as he pulled out of her. Grabbing her hips, he flipped her over, his rough hand pinning her down, breasts flat against the table. A startled yelp echoed through the room as he thrust into her from behind, filling her deeper than before. A nauseating saltiness coated Serah’s tongue as she licked her lips. She winced at the sharp burn and swiped her finger across her mouth, startled to see the smear of red.

  Blood.

  She had little time to consider what that meant as he started pounding into her, harder and harder, deeper and deeper. A loud cry tore from her as she clawed at the table, the marble crumbling as her fingernails dug deep ruts into the hard stone. Startling sensations swarmed her body, nothing like the tingles she felt before. This was a ruthless strike of lightning surging through every centimeter of her body, infusing every cell, altering her at the core. She could feel her body coming alive, growing stronger every second while another part of her deteriorated, unwittingly fading into something more. Her chest viciously ached like it was in a vise grip, triggering throbbing beneath her skin. She could hear it above the sound of their skin slapping together, the thump-thump-thumping of a pulse, beating for the very first time.

  It seemed to explode inside of her as her heart kick-started, sending all of her senses into overdrive. The musky smell of sex and sweat filtered into her lungs, her vision blurring, her skin prickling with goose bumps. A cold breeze wafted through the room, a stark difference from the burning fire of Lucifer’s hands on her flesh. He tightly gripped one of her hips as his other hand stroked the small of her back and the curve of her behind, the rough calluses of his fingers like sandpaper against her sensitive skin.

  He battered her, again and again, taking no mercy on her body. She ached where they connected, a pleasurable sting as he stretched and filled her. They fit together tightly, like leather clinging to wet skin, where he ended and she began a blur of sensation. Serah tried to clear her head, tried to make sense of it all, but the feelings were too overwhelming, too cloudy to see through.

  Lucifer leaned over her, his chest pressed to her back, his warmth nearly scorching her skin. His cool breath fanned against her as his tongue swirled along her earlobe, a light chuckle vibrating his chest as she violently shivered.

  "Give in to it," he growled in her ear. "Give yourself to me."

  Never, a shrill voice in the back of her mind screamed out, warning her, but she was too far-gone to listen. Her lips softly moved as she mouthed, "I’m yours," the words barely a whisper, a mere shuddering breath, but it was enough for him.

  The air shifted at that moment, the split-second, snap decision where she’d pledged herself to him changing everything. A loud crack of thunder split the ceiling, the walls starting to crumble around them as Lucifer slammed into her hard from behind. Brutal shockwaves seized her body as she erupted in orgasm, quaking with pleasure, screams of ecstasy burning her raw throat. She tightened around him as he let loose, a feral growl ripping from his chest as the two of them came together. She could feel him, pulsing as he spilled inside of her, warming her from the inside out. A familiar tingle—the tickle of her Grace energizing—stirred in her body, stronger and stronger, higher and higher, building to the point of detonation.

  Lucifer let out a sigh, tickling her skin as he nuzzled into her neck. He placed a soft, chaste kiss near her ear as he whispered, "Thank you, angel."

  Fierce wind shook the room, extinguishing the candles, as the energy in her body seemed to purge from her in a whoosh, taking the breath from her lungs. Lucifer pried himself away from her in another crack of thunder. In the glow of the lightning, Serah could see the massive shadows on the floor where Lucifer’s black wings had erupted from his back. She forced herself off the table and spun around, eyes wide as she took in the sight before her.

  Lucifer’s tanned skin glowed orange, the sigils and markings on his chest and arms pulsating just like they had when he struck the gate. But now, instead of burning brighter, reining him in, forcing the creature back into his prison, condemning him from ever hurting an innocent soul, the black markings glowed orange, gradually blending into his skin.

  Serah blinked rapidly, her breathing accelerated as Lucifer slowly lifted off the ground, hovering in the air in front of her. He tilted his head back as a ball of light erupted from his chest, so bright and intense Serah had to shield her eyes and look away. It was as if his entire body had become engulfed in flames.

  When the brightness faded, she peered over at him, meeting his eyes. They were bright blue, vibrant and crisp, swirling like the lake they’d gone swimming in together. She was so caught up in his eyes, so entranced by his inhuman Archangel beauty—the chisel of his jaw, the immense wingspan, the dimples around his soft smirk—that she nearly didn’t notice his skin was now free and clear of markings.

  Her Grace, she realized. She'd given herself to him. She’d healed his wounds as it surged through his body, replenishing him like Michael had done to her countless times. Terror ran through her, seizing her now-beating heart as she frantically shook her head, not wanting to believe it. Lucifer just stared at her, not an ounce of surprise in his expression. He’d known it would happen.

  It had been his plan all along.

  "I’m sorry," he whispered, the blue fading back to darkness. "So fucking sorry."

  In another clap of thunder, he was gone. Serah stared at the spot he’d occupied seconds ago, horrified, mortified, as she wrapped her arms tightly around her chest, trying to hold herself together. The ground rumbled viciously, cracking, opening up as flames erupted from below. The loud shrieks of agony tore through the air as everything started to collapse in on itself, the King of Hell no longer there to contain anything.

  Without realizing it, she’d freed the monster from his cage.

  Four

  "What have you done?"

  The low, venomous voice was so close the hair on the back of Serah's neck stood on end. She slowly turned around, coming face-to-face with Michael in the shadows of the woods of Hellum Township.

  Serah could sense it was early morning, a few hours past sunrise, but the day was as dark as a stormy midnight. Red had seeped into the sky, thick bloody clouds blocking out all sunlight. Mere minutes had passed since she'd stood in that fateful room with Lucifer, but it seemed as if a lifetime had withered away on Earth. Everything was dry and brittle, a drought ravishing the land, while the air was stale with a musky, foul odor.

  Had it always been that way?

  "I can hear your heart," Michael pressed, "a heart that shouldn't beat!"

  "I made a mistake."

  "A mistake?" Michael raised his eyebrows in sync with his voice. "You unleashed Hell on Earth!"

  "I didn't know Lucifer—"

  "He's Satan!" Michael screeched, stepping closer, rage clouding his face. "You allowed the devil to seduce you!"

  "Forgive me," she whispered, a lone tear streaming down her cheek.

  Michael's cold, hard stare burned through her. "No."

  A roar cut through the woods as the trees around them bent and snapped. Evil brushed against her skin, bouncing off of her, flying right by, as souls spilled out from the gates, left wide-open in Lucifer's wake.

  Or Satan's, Serah thought. Maybe Lucifer didn't exist at all.

  Angels descended upon the area, apparating in packs as they rushed through, trying to stop anything more from escaping. Michael stepped away from Serah as her brothers and sist
ers appeared, prepared for battle, not a single one acknowledging her.

  "You should say your peace," Michael said, a staunch detachment in his voice. "This won't end well for you, miscreant."

  Miscreant. The word was like a knife thrust through Serah's tight chest.

  Michael vanished, joining the others. He was the one who had locked Satan inside in the first place, so he alone would know how to reseal the gate. Devastation struck Serah as she dropped to her knees, doubling over in sobs.

  She'd done this.

  "Samuel," she cried. "I need you."

  Static popped right in front of her. She looked up, irrationally seeking out her lost brother, but found Hannah standing there instead. Hannah frowned, grabbing Serah's arm and yanking her to her feet.

  "Pull yourself together," she said, her voice hard, but there was no anger in her expression. "We can't have you in pieces right now."

  "I did it," Serah said. "It was me."

  "I know. We all know. The moment it happened—the moment he rose—the magnetic pole shifted majorly. It’s going to be difficult to reverse this—if we even can."

  She blinked rapidly. "I triggered the apocalypse."

  "Yes, which means you're somehow integral to how this all plays out."

  "I'm nothing. I succumbed to the snake's temptation. I unleashed Satan."

  "You were enchanted by Lucifer." Hannah sighed, shaking her head. "He was an Archangel, Ser, the most glorious one ever created. I can't fault you for falling for him."

  Falling for him.

  "I am," she whispered. "Literally."

  A rush of black shadows whipped past then, blanketing the land as far as the eyes could see. The oxygen seemed to be sucked from the atmosphere as Serah gasped painfully, struggling for air.

  "Michael released the reapers," Hannah said, watching the morbid creatures as they descended upon Earth. "It's only a matter of time before they track him down."

  "Then what?" Serah asked.

  "You know the prophecy—Satan will be destroyed once and for all." Her gaze turned to Serah again. "Michael's coming. You need to get out of here."

  "Where am I to go?"

  "Wherever you feel safe," Hannah said. "Once the dragon is slayed, he'll see things clearly. I'm certain of it."

  Serah wasn't so sure.

  The apocalypse. The end of days.

  The world didn't end in an hour. It didn't end in a day. In fact, it didn't end at all. Most corners of the planet remained oblivious to the Hell sweeping through the land. As water supplies were poisoned, the air tainted, crops dying, it was business as usual in the mortal realm. They went to school, went to work; they studied and took tests, held meetings and conducted business, adapting instinctively to the perilous conditions.

  Global Warming was blamed, as was a fictional Mother Nature. The storm of the century was upon them, they said, as they hunkered down and waited for it to all eventually blow over.

  Serah laid low—out of sight, out of mind—as the angels fought to contain the mess she'd made. Creatures of all sorts had spilled through the gate, stepping foot onto Earth for the first time: vampires, werewolves, even the fairies. The supernatural realm had exploded, led by a horde of demons that had broken free.

  It was as they'd expected Armageddon to be—worse in some ways—but something was distinctly missing.

  And that something was Satan.

  A week passed. Seven days of turmoil, and the angels had the fighting somewhat contained to America. Serah watched from a distance as vile monsters fell, one by one being locked back in their cages, but it didn't escape her notice that their leader was nowhere to be found. Not one reported sighting, not a single incident.

  Serah locked herself down in the closed community center in Chorizon, watching it all unfold from a distance. She'd been alone all week, surrounded by absolute silence and stillness. She was watching out the window on the eighth morning near dawn, hoping against hope that the sun would manage to find a way through the ruddy clouds today, when something shifted in the room behind her.

  She went to turn around, but she was too late.

  A thick arm wrapped around her waist, pinning her in place, as a hand instantly clamped down over her mouth. Her body was violently pulled back into another, a vaguely familiar aroma filtering into her bloodstream. She tried to fight the attacker off, but she was still somewhat weakened, and they were too strong.

  "Relax, angel," a soft voice said. "I'm not here to hurt you."

  She fought harder at the sound of the voice, only breaking free because he voluntarily loosened his hold. Spinning around, she stepped back swiftly. "Satan."

  His face contorted, his lip curling as he bared his teeth. "I’ve told you not to call me that."

  "It’s what you are!"

  He stepped toward her, eliciting a retreat from her. She pressed her back against the cold glass of the window. He froze, raising his hands defensively. "Look, I know you’re angry—"

  "Angry?" she hissed. "I’m furious! You used me! You knew this would happen!"

  "I did," he admitted, "but it’s not that black and white."

  "It is," she insisted. "I was a fool to think otherwise. You, Satan, mean to annihilate the world."

  "I do," he admitted again, "but like I said—not that black and white."

  "You’ve infected me," she spat. "The numbers may not be singed into my skin, but the mark of the beast is on me now."

  "You're being dramatic," he said. "I did nothing without your permission. You gave yourself to me."

  "You coerced me!"

  "Bullshit!" he spat as he stepped toward her, not deterred this time when she tried to slip away. He slammed his hands against the windowpane, his face mere inches from hers. "You wanted it. You still want it. I can smell the desire on you, sense it inside of you, begging for more release."

  "You lie!"

  "I do," he said, "but not about this."

  "I hate you!"

  "Maybe so, but you still want me. You still need me. Dare I say, there may even be a part of you deep down inside that actually cares for me."

  "Never!"

  He quirked an eyebrow. "Now who’s the liar, angel?"

  Lucifer inched forward, tilting his head, preparing to kiss her. Serah slipped away before their lips could touch, ducking under his arm and dashing across the room, away from his grasp. Lucifer let out an exasperated sigh as he slowly turned to look at her.

  "I’ll call for him," she threatened. "Take one step, and I’ll scream for Michael."

  "He’ll kill us both."

  "He will," Serah said. "But at least I’ll save the world from you."

  She expected that to discourage him, but his lips curved into a teasing smirk as he took a calculated step in her direction.

  "Do it," he taunted. "I dare you."

  She glared at him, remaining silent.

  "That’s what I thought."

  "What do you want from me?" she seethed. "You’ve broken free. You’ve got what you wanted."

  "Not all of it."

  "What else is there?"

  "You."

  "You’re a self-centered, repulsive traitor, filled with unforgivable sin."

  "Are we reciting résumés? If so, you’re a fallen angel."

  "I’ve not fallen."

  "Yet."

  "You think I don’t know?" Her voice quaked. "You’ve stolen everything from me."

  "I gave you more than I took." He glanced around the dark room, his expression softening as his smile fell. "If it’s any consolation, I—"

  "It isn’t," she spat, cutting him off as bitter tears sprung to her eyes. She reached up, wiping them away as they streamed down her cheeks. "I don’t know what’s going to happen to me."

  "That’s why I came here," Lucifer said. "I want to show you something."

  "I’m not interested, so you may as well leave."

  "Oh, you’re going to want to see this. Trust me."

  "I don’t trust the likes of y
ou," she said. "I was stupid to think you were different. You’re not. You’re nothing but—"

  "Satan, I get it," he said, furiously shaking his head. "You sound like a fucking broken record. Do you even believe yourself anymore? You don’t have to trust me. You don’t have to be interested. But you’re going to see this, whether you want to or not."

  Lucifer darted toward her, so fast her diluted senses couldn’t keep up with him. He snatched ahold of her, yanking her to him, and apparated the two from the room the second she tried to fight him off. They appeared in the front yard of a suburban house, where he let go of her as she struggled against him. She looked around, recognizing it right away, a hint of panic bubbling up inside of her.

  The Lauer residence.

  She stared at the modest house, a subtle light flickering inside from lit candles. The electricity was off there, as it was everywhere in the community. Unexpected blackouts, they said, caused by the power station tripping. It had been down for a little over a week now, ever since Lucifer had broken his restraints.

  It was no coincidence.

  "If you’ve hurt this family, so help me God—"

  He clamped his hand down over her mouth from behind the moment she spoke those words. "Don’t evoke Him," he hissed in her ear. God. "And I’ve done nothing to these pesky little humans. What do you take me for?"

  "A monster," she mumbled against his palm.

  He chuckled darkly. "Takes one to know one."

  He refused to release her, grasping her tightly and pulling her to him, but his hand dropped from her mouth.

  "Why are we here?" she demanded.

  "Tell me about them."

  She sighed exasperatedly. "The Lauers, Nicholas and Samantha. They have a daughter named Nicki."