by Ivy Asher
Large demons guard all the entrances that lead into the house. As we get closer, I wonder if they’ll let us in or not. Iceman approaches a set of demons guarding a pair of ostentatious French doors. At first, one of the door demons looks like he’s about to redirect Iceman and crew, but as soon as they spot me in the middle of the group, they quickly open the doors with a respectful nod, letting us inside.
As soon as the doors shut behind us, the noise drops dramatically. My ears ring like I’ve been at a concert in front of the large speakers all night long. I shove a finger in one of my ears and wiggle it like that will help, but I should know better from the gong sound in Hell that it doesn’t.
“Damn, how is half of Hell not deaf? That noise level is crazy out there,” I comment, looking up to find Iceman staring at me intensely.
I open my mouth to ask him what’s wrong, but before I can, he closes the distance between us, cups my cheeks in his hands and lowers his full blue lips to mine.
I’m stunned at first.
My eyes fall closed, and I give into the feeling. His mouth is soft against mine, and he threads his fingers into my hair like every girl dreams a man will at some point in their life, his touch loosening the pony tail as he caresses my scalp. He cradles my jaw like I’m something he finds infinitely precious, and gently tilts my head, encouraging me to open up for him.
I respond immediately, pressing into him, my hands greedily tracing the planes of his abdomen. His mouth claims mine, his kiss asking if I’m okay, his touch reassuring him that I’m here in his arms. I taste him and suck on his lips, teasing his tongue with my own, floored that he needed this as much as I did. With every sweep of his tongue, I can feel that he was just as torn, worried, and relieved to see me as I was to see him.
The need for more begins to build low in my stomach, tingling up into my lips and snaking out into my tongue. But I feel another hand thread through my hair, pulling out the strands until they’re hanging loose at my back. The next thing I know, Iceman’s cool lips pull away and in their place is the taste of masculine, carefree summer air. I don’t need to open my eyes to know it’s now Crux’s mouth fused to mine, confessing wordless emotion. His forked and pierced tongue is very obvious and fills me with excitement.
I can feel his longing and his relief pour into me with each nip of his teeth and stroke of his pierced tongue against mine. Unspoken promises are exchanged between us as he deepens the kiss and stokes a hunger that’s unfurling inside of me like a lotus to the sun.
“Alright already,” Echo declares impatiently, and in a breath, Crux is pulled away from me on a chuckle. Echo’s shadows caress my jaw, guiding my face and eyes to the right, where he’s waiting for me. He doesn’t pull me to him and devour me the way the flash of heat in his eyes says he wants to. Instead, he studies me for a moment, his shadows tracing the planes of my face, like he needs to memorize me in this moment.
“We’re so sorry we almost lost you,” he says quietly.
I shake my head, not liking the blame I can feel he’s holding onto. “It wasn’t your fault. I’m here. I’m okay,” I reassure him.
He nods and steps into me, pressing his forehead against mine, like my words are the balm he’s been in desperate need of. He kisses me, and it’s flavored with the gaping hole in his chest that he felt when he thought I’d been taken. I feel it with every stroke of his shadows as they move against my skin with reverence.
His tongue meets mine, and I can discern panic and loss and worry in his taste. I savor the peace that comes over him as he moves his hands from my waist up the naked skin of my back and consumes me the way his black eyes always promised me he would.
I’m lost to his pull as he kisses me and molds my body to his. He holds me like we were made to fit together and kisses me with a fervor that makes it clear that he’s never going to lose me again.
All at once, Echo pulls away from me and steps to the side, leaving Jerif’s heated body in his wake. I look over at Jerif, my lips pink and tingling, and his gaze holds me captive. He steps closer to me, wrapping his warm hands around my waist, and I don’t miss the shiver that runs through him as he presses me against him. I see passion in his fiery eyes, but I also see fear and vulnerability.
I wrap my hands around the back of his neck a little shyly, trying to get used to the feel of him in my arms. I’m not sure how to react to his proximity and willingness. There’s a momentary stiffness between us, like we’re both asking each other with our bodies if this is okay. Was the loss and sadness we felt as we watched each other almost die true? Are we ready to embrace the realizations we felt in those moments that, thankfully, weren’t our last?
What happened in the Vestibule changed everything. It opened my eyes and made room for my wants in a staggering way. I can feel Jerif’s hand gently rub my lower back, and I know that what happened changed how he sees things too.
Not wanting to waste another second, I wrap my palm around the back of his neck and pull him down to me. I kiss him softly, tentatively. I brush my lips against his, letting our mouths get familiar, giving him time to think about what this means and changes between us. I expect his kisses to slowly grow more confident and for us to find our rhythm together, but instead, he shocks the hell out of me by running his fingers up my sides and tracing the curves of my breasts with his thumbs.
I gasp, and as soon as my lips part, he claims my mouth with such conviction that I can feel the scorching possession of it. There’s no going back now. His tongue teases mine, telling me that he’s beyond okay with it. It was torture to watch him sacrifice himself for me, but the violent need I taste between us speaks volumes about what we’ve both survived and what we plan to do with the time together we now have.
I pull away with a smile, and his lips chase mine. “I’m going to have so much fun hate fucking you,” I joke, and his lips slowly spread into a grin.
“Not as much fun as I’m going to have purposely pissing you off so that you will hate fuck me,” he teases against my lips, and I tip my head back and laugh.
I step away from him and look around, noting the guys’ hungry gazes as each one of them watches me. Their need permeates the air all around us, and I stare, overwhelmed and suddenly at a loss for words. I knew that claiming them before was a risk. That it would change the dynamic between us for better or worse, but I had to do it. I needed to own the realization that I came to when I thought I had lost them. I just didn’t realize that they would all be so willing to claim me right back. It sends a thrill through me.
Behind us, the French doors open suddenly, making me jump. Sound and light spills into the darkened hallway, and the bronze-winged Abdicated from dinner walks inside. His presence interrupts the very intimate moment we were just having, and judging by the smirk on his face, he knows it.
His jewelry jingles as he takes us in, his fingertips stroking over his gold armor before twirling the rings on his fingers. “Ah, we wondered where you lot had gotten off to,” he states, taking all of us in and breathing deeply like he’s scenting the room. “If you’re looking for a bit more privacy, might I suggest the third floor? Eighth room on the right. Or, if you want a more romantic setting, try the eleventh door on the left. I’ll tell Taz you all are dancing. Should give you plenty of time.”
With that, he turns on his heel and saunters back out into the party, the doors shutting behind him and locking away all the intrusive sounds once again.
I stare at the door for a beat and then turn to the guys, suddenly nervous but so damn excited too. “So...which room?”
10
Unfortunately, they don’t get to answer that question.
Almost as soon as Jewelry dude shuts the doors, Tazreel comes bursting right in. When he sees us, his eyes glower, and he shoots a look at his fellow Abdicated. “I knew you were full of shit, Avarice,” he tells Jewelry, whose name I guess is Avarice. Then Taz rounds on me. “What do you think you’re doing?” he demands.
Avarice sends me a littl
e shrug. “I tried. He was already hot on my tail and didn’t have enough Stupor in him to believe my lie.”
Taz shoots him a look. “Yes, you really should know how to lie better,” he tells him. “Dancing?” He scoffs in disbelief. “As if I would believe she would be dancing after everyone just saw exactly how graceless she is when attempting to fly.”
“Hey,” I say with offense. “I’ve never flown before, and these fuckers did it on their own,” I say, blaming it on the purple monstrosities.
He points a finger at me, going right past the flying issue. “I don’t want you cavorting with them. We spoke about this earlier, and I was serious.”
“So was I,” I fire back.
He takes a step forward, so I meet him toe-to-toe. Our wings stretch out once more as we both glare at each other. Avarice looks over at my guys who are watching worriedly. “Don’t worry, Luce forbade him from punishing her. He can’t do anything.”
“Get out!” Tazreel snaps at him.
He tsks but starts backing away with a smirk. “You need to go smoke some Stupor, my friend. Help loosen up.”
“I can’t,” Taz replies petulantly. “I have to watch this party like a hawk, or they’ll ruin my yard and try to steal my sculptures.”
I make a face. “Why would anyone want to steal those sculptures of you?”
A tic in his jaw pulses, and I know I’ve hit him right in the ego, because his wings try to fluff up, like they’re bolstering his vanity. “Any form of art in my likeness is priceless.”
“Keep telling yourself that,” I mumble.
“What was that?”
“I said—”
For the second time tonight, Echo’s hand slaps over my mouth. “I think Delta had a little too much Stupor blown into her face tonight.”
“Yes, let’s all calm down,” Iceman intervenes, stepping up beside me.
Echo gives me a look that says, behave, before dropping his palm away. I take a steadying breath, looking at my wings. “Stand down,” I order, hoping that if I sound like a general, they’ll listen. Luckily, they do.
Avarice slips outside but leaves the doors cracked, letting the ambiance of the party filter in. Tazreel takes a moment to look at each of the guys, still posturing with his wings. Even though he looks ageless, you can tell that he’s ancient. The power and influence he possesses is incomparable to anything other than what was rolling off of Lucifer himself.
“I will not allow this grouping to happen under my roof.” His words clang like metal falling to the floor, sending vibrations through my feet.
“Fine,” I retort. “We were just leaving anyway.”
His eyes snap to me. “Leaving? You cannot leave. You are my newly discovered progeny. You will need training on how to be a Nihil.”
I shake my head, letting my tangled hair shift over my back. “The only training I’ll be doing is how to help stabilize the Hellgate.”
He scoffs and runs a hand through his hair, his wings finally dropping back as he shakes his head. “That job is beneath you.”
“If that’s the way all Nihil think, that’s probably why the Gates are fucking breaking in the first place,” I reply hotly. “You guys are supposedly powerful. Why aren’t you helping to fix the Gates? Isn’t balance and all of that the thing you value most?”
“I’m Pride. I have enough to balance as it is,” he grits out. “And if they”—he points a finger at the guys—“are not up to their task, then they can get another bloodline to help them like they’re supposed to.”
I snort at his declaration. No shit, he’s prideful.
“That’s exactly what they were trying to do when I stepped into this whole Hellgate mess,” I tell him, exasperated. “The issue is that no powerful demons want the job. Outer Ringers don’t sustain the gate long enough before they’re completely drained and die. And no one else is stepping up. The Hellgate needs a stronger demon to help sustain it. I’m a Nihil, which means I’m more than up to the task,” I argue, upset that he just doesn’t seem to get it or care. How can Hell’s upper echelon of demons not understand the importance in what I’m saying?
“You should be leading armies and preparing for end times, not living in the Mortal Realm, protecting ungrateful humans unworthy to stand in your glorious presence,” he declares, completely serious.
My eyes feel like I could shoot lasers out of them and burn his stupid hair right off his head. “Those ungrateful humans deserve our protection. If all of you in Luce’s little circle would get off your pompous asses to help, maybe the Gates wouldn’t be in such bad shape, letting unauthorized demons sneak through to the Mortal Realm all the time.”
His eyes harden like cement. “Careful, daughter. I may not be able to punish you, but I still outrank you, and you will treat me with respect.”
I take a deep, calming breath. “Fine. I’m sorry,” I say, trying not to grit my teeth as I say it. “But the Gate is breaking. Maybe I’m not leading an army, but I am helping to prevent one from storming out and fucking with the balance you swore to adhere to. Isn’t that good enough? Isn’t balance and all this sin and sacrifice supposed to be for the greater good?”
“If things are as bad as you say, then Luce will take care of it,” Tazreel says dismissively, and I can practically feel steam shoot out of my ears. I’m so damn frustrated by his blasé attitude. “There is more to the realms and maintaining balance than you know, Delta. Yes, the Hellgate is important, but so are a great many other things that you have yet to learn. Those things are what your bloodline is intended for. Not Gatekeeping.”
“Gatekeeping is for the Gatekeepers, right?” I press. “Too bad there aren’t any of them left. Guess it’s up to us to guard it and help as much as we can.”
He stares at me hard, and a disappointed growl leaves my chest at the same time the fight does. I’m not going to get anywhere with him, especially not by slinging retorts back and forth. He’s too set in his ways. “Regardless of what you think I’m worthy of, I gave my word that I would help these Guardians. That trumps any sense of misplaced duty you think I should have,” I say evenly, suddenly tired and completely over being here. I want to go home, curl up in the realm I know and love, and work through what all of this means for me and my future.
“Duty is important.”
“I agree,” I reply. “Which is why we need to leave and check on the Gate. So how do we get out of here?”
He doesn’t speak right away. He just watches me, unnervingly. I take a fortifying breath, forcing myself to say nothing. I don’t want to go another round with this demon, but he doesn’t seem like the type that’s down for a little agree to disagree truce.
We stare at each other, neither one of us sure what to make of things. I’m sure he’s trying to figure out a way to make me come to heel. I’m just trying to figure out why he thinks his vision for my life should trump my own. He doesn’t even know me.
Judging by his reaction in the dungeon, he doesn’t even want kids. So why can’t he just let this go, let me go? His gray-gold eyes flash with frustration, and my heart starts pumping faster, my nerves getting the better of me.
What if he won’t let us leave? What if he keeps us here just to spite me? A little loophole in Luce’s no punishing her rule. He could simply keep us all here, letting the Gate fall, and teaching me a lesson about obedience. My teeth grind together.
Would he do that? Would Lucifer let him?
He finally lets out a sigh and scrubs a hand over his suddenly weary face. “Fine. I’ll transport you back. For now,” he says firmly. “But I reserve the right to pop in whenever I feel like it, and when I summon you, you will answer and return immediately. Is that understood?”
I repeat his words in my mind, trying to see if there are any obvious tricks or loopholes that I should be concerned with. “I’ll answer when summoned, but the Gate is the priority, so if something is going on with the Hellgate, that supersedes your summons. Oh, and you can’t keep me in Nihil longer than I w
ant to be,” I counter offer.
“Agreed,” he tells me a little too quickly. I suddenly wonder if I missed something. I review the wording again, but I’m just not seeing what it could be.
“Agreed,” I finally relent.
“Good.”
He flicks his hand, and then off to the side, a wall that looks similar to the veil of gooey metallic liquid like in the Vestibule appears out of thin air, like a doorway.
I stare at it in open-mouth shock. “You mean, we don’t have to go back to the Vestibule, up the stairs of doom and through the Hellgate to get out?”
“No. Luce’s inner circle can go where they please, when they please,” he states smugly, studying his nails, and implementing a hair flip that only his pompous ass could get away with.
I take in the portal, and relief floods me. I’m not ready to set foot back in the Vestibule. I don’t know if I ever will be.
“Thank you,” I tell Tazreel quietly, beyond grateful that he’s doing this, even though I can tell it’s the exact opposite of what he wants to do. Maybe he’s not as irredeemable as I thought.
Taz gives a curt nod and then casts one more warning glare at the guys before turning on his heel, the doors slamming behind him as he returns to the party.
All of us are quiet for a moment, reeling from the exchange. Crux is the first to break the ice. “So. He seems nice,” he says conversationally, the snark bringing a small smile from my lips. “You think he’ll give us his blessing if we ever want to get hitched?”
A bubbling laugh comes out of me as I turn to him. “Nope. Not in a million years.”
Crux grins. “Good thing we’re immortal, then.”
The smile leaves my face. “Wait...we’re immortal? As in, we don’t age?”
“Correct.”
I look at the four of them warily. “How old are you guys?”
“Old enough to know that we shouldn’t answer that question,” Echo teases.
“We should go,” Jerif says. “I can feel the Gate. We’ve been gone too long.”