Damned if I do (the Damned Trilogy Book 1)

by Elizabeth Stevens

  Dad crossed his arms and slunk down in his throne. “Jumped up, arrogant sod.”

  “I’ll bet he’ll be totally thrilled about me seducing a human woman. Third generation for the win!” I said sarcastically.

  “Oh yes,” Dad mocked. “He’d be so proud. Walking around all righteous and holier than thou up there.” He pointed at me. “Back in the day, I knew who he was.” He scoffed. “He thinks he’s all clever, hiding his past from everyone? Hello? All that smiting. Lightning anyone? You’re not fooling anyone, old man,” he finished with a mutter, his arms crossed again and a pout like a child sent to the naughty step.

  Which wasn’t too far from the truth, really. In almost every manifestation of my father, he’d been sent to Hell by Grandad as punishment for disobedience. It just ran in our veins and I was no exception.

  “You finished with your daddy issues?” I asked.

  “Says you.” Dad huffed. “But yes.” He waved his hand for me to continue. “Give me your excuses then.”

  “I’ll sleep with her when I sleep with her,” I told him.

  “How very enlightening.” He rolled his eyes, then they narrowed on me and he sat forward. “Say that again.”

  I frowned. “What?”

  “Say that again. Tell me again your excuse.”

  I shook my head but knew it was better to placate him. “I’ll sleep with Wren when I sleep with her.”

  “Woooo!” he cooed, batting his eyes and clasping his hands under his chin. “Methinks someone’s falling for the little human.”

  “You can think whatever you like, old man,” I huffed.

  Dad got that look in his eyes. The maliciously mischievous one. The one where he was sure something was going to happen and it was going to be gloriously awful for the soul involved. And he was looking forward to watching it all unfold in the front row with a bucket of popcorn.

  “Tell you what. If you’re not in love with her when she finally gives into you, I’ll ride naked through the streets of Coventry–”

  “No one enjoys when you go Godiva, Dad.”

  He huffed sullenly. “Fine. But don’t say I didn’t offer.”

  I gagged a little just remembering the last time he’d decided to Godiva around Hell. “No one would accuse you of that.”

  He grinned as he spun to lounge on his throne armrests again. “I am a very generous gentleman.”

  “That’s one word for it.”

  “If you’re going to be no fun, you can go about your business.”

  “Oh, thanks,” I replied sarcastically.

  “What do you have going on today? Is it beating the ever-fallen nightlights out of Cadriel? Impaling him in place of your wife, perhaps?”

  He snuck a look at me, but I wasn’t going to rise to the bait. Sometimes I did, as much for entertainment as out of a serious lack of impulse control. But I wasn’t in the mood for trading insults with my old man.

  “No? Fine,” he said sullenly. “A date with the VIPs, perhaps?” He clapped his hands. “Planning our next Music Monday?”

  I shook my head. “Larry’s learning the meaning of delegation. He’s doing a very good job.”

  “If I don’t hear some Gilbert and Sullivan, there will be Heaven to pay. Everyone likes a good barbershop–”

  “No, they don’t.”

  Dad rolled his eyes. “Ugh. You’re bringing down my vibe, son. Don’t tell me what you’re doing. See if I care. Just go and do it. I’ll sit here by myself and twiddle my thumbs.”

  “You’ll survive, I’m sure.”

  Dad huffed and dismissed me with a wave. “Be gone.”

  I gave him a sardonic bow and swept out.

  Truth be told, I had a lot of things to do. Souls weren’t in the habit of torturing themselves, even after all those centuries endured. But the only thing I cared about on my to-do list was Wren. Not that I was planning on ticking that off any time soon if I could help it.

  When I walked into our room, I wasn’t sure how much longer I’d be able to abstain.

  “Oh, hey,” she said with a warm smile as she looked up from her book.

  “Reading again?”

  She nodded. “This one is at least for school.”

  “You planning on having them memorised rote before…”

  I did not want to finish that sentence. I didn’t want to think about when she inevitably had to leave. Whether we consummated our marriage to Dad’s approval or not, she’d have to go home at some point.

  Before I could shake myself out of my unpleasant thoughts, she was standing in front of me and sliding her arms around my neck slowly. Her fingers played with a lock of hair at the nape of my neck and it was a weirdly calming feeling.

  “Let me take your mind off it,” she whispered as she reached up to kiss me, like she could read my mind and anticipate my needs.

  It was at once a reminder of and a solace against her inevitable departure. My mind warred with my heart – one panicking and one feeling far too at ease in her presence – but my body won out and I lifted her up and pushed her against the bed post. Her legs went around my middle like it was instinct.

  We lined up perfectly. Like we were made for each other.

  It was a torment and a gratification, but I had no plans to change anything.

  Her arms tightened around my shoulders as my lips trailed down her cheek to her neck. I felt her sigh in pleasure, her breath tickling my ear. She released me with one hand, reaching up to hold onto the bed post above her head. The arm around me tensed along with her knees around my waist.

  I pressed into her, knowing this wasn’t going all the way but unable to help myself. Wren moaned against me and I claimed her mouth with mine again.

  She kissed me hungrily, like a woman possessed.

  I knew how she felt. I felt the same. She occupied my every waking thought. I dreamt about her. I had never wanted anything more in my existence than I wanted to sink myself into her and bring her to the pinnacle of ecstasy, time and time again until the end days. But the overriding need to keep her gave me an unfamiliar level of control over my impulses.

  My whole body felt alive to her and only her, but I was in no hurry to satisfy my own desires. I was, though, very interested in satisfying hers.

  I slid my hand up her leg slowly, up under her dress. She’d taken to wearing them a lot more lately and I wanted to take full advantage of it. I brought my lips back to her neck and my hand slid between us. The angle wasn’t perfect, but I could take her weight with one arm for the sake of her satisfaction.

  As I slipped my fingers between her legs, she shivered and another happy sigh tickled my hair. More deliberate this time, I stroked her. Her back arched off the post and into me. I looked at her with cocky pride. Her eyes were closed, there was a soft smile on her face and she was gripping the post above her head firmly.

  Slowly, her eyes opened. She looked right into mine as she bit her lip cheekily. Those green depths were full of mischief, desire, heady need. She wasn’t just happy for me to continue, she wanted it. But, in a very un-Morningstar move, I checked. Keeping slightly to normal behaviours, I did it in my own way.

  “You want me to please you?” It wasn’t really a question.

  She nodded.

  “Tell me what you want,” I commanded.

  Her chest rose as she breathed in. “I want you to please me, Drake.”

  My restraint was almost at breaking point. Some of it would be sated by giving her exactly what she wanted, though. So, I didn’t hesitate.

  I kissed her again as I skid my hand into her panties. She twitched adorably as my fingers touched her bare. She chuckled self-consciously against my lips and I deepened our kiss.

  My fingers stroked her gently, always desperate to touch more but not wanting to rush her pleasure. I teased her clit softly, flicking my finger against her and she shuddered as she bit her lip again. Her lips seemed far too distracted for kissing, so I lazily t
ook mine down to her neck again as I worked her.

  Wren’s body tightened and relaxed at different intervals and I took great pleasure in trying out different methods to see what her reaction would be.

  When I slid a finger into her, she gasped then sighed. Her sigh died into a moan as I pumped her. My hips rocked involuntarily with my rhythm; my cock desperate to be the one inside her. But a finger would have to do.

  And do it did.

  I felt her tighten on my finger and she cried out wordlessly. Her cry became a husky chuckle and she breathed heavily. I slowly slipped my finger out of her, rubbing her softly as the aftershocks made her twitch. I watched her, completely entranced with the soft joy on her face. Her cheeks were flushed and, when she opened her eyes, they sparkled brightly.

  “I’m guessing a comment about taking me to Heaven would go down poorly now?” she asked cheekily.

  I couldn’t help but smirk. “It wouldn’t be totally inappropriate. But I can think of something that would go down better.”

  Her eyebrow rose, but I don’t think she was thinking the same thing I was. “Oh? What?”

  I felt my most devilish grin growing.

  “Drake?” she asked slowly.

  Lifting her a little more, I turned and threw her onto the bed. Wren yelped and laughed.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Showing you what will go down perfectly.”

  Her mouth dropped open into a little ‘o’ for a moment, then she smiled and her legs parted slightly. “I do prefer hands-on learning.”

  Damned Heaven, she was going to be the death of me. Me, an immortal being. And I was going to love every second of it.

  Wren

  I was getting out and seeing more of Hell.

  It was either that or risk losing my semblance of control with Drake and probably never see him again. So, sightseeing it was.

  Which had me sitting next to my father-in-law under a tattered canopy in a closed off section of an amphitheatre. The rest of the stands were filled with demons and devilbums and souls and whatever sort of creatures Larry and his barbershop quartet were. Esther was nowhere to be seen and, for the moment, neither was Drake. Kyle sat at my feet, Ignacio sulked in the corner, and Truman stood next to me in case I wanted anything.

  “Well, then!” the devil cried, his voice carrying around the amphitheatre. “Are we ready to have a little fun on Tussle Tuesday?” He spared me a grin and an eyebrow waggle, then lifted his hands and spotlights and coloured lights started streaming around the place. “It’s the showdown of the week! Your favourite pairing! Every time they meet, you get a different ending. Welcome to the stage, our resident Nephilim and his glorified babysitter, the angel who puts the gory into Grigori!” He looked at me again, seeming very pleased with himself. “It’s Drake versus Cadriel!”

  There was a blast like confetti canons had gone off everywhere and all the light streamed upwards to show two winged figures soaring down into the amphitheatre.

  Drake’s pure white wings shone with their own luminescence. His torso glistened in the lights, naked but for two crossed straps of leather. He wore black pants and his feet were bare. In his hand, he held a sword that would have been as big as at least two of the devilbums.

  Cadriel’s wings were black, but were in their own way as beautiful as Drake’s. He was clothed in the same fashion as Drake, but wielded a giant axe that was as tall as him. He wore a scowl to give my husband a run for his money as he looked around the theatre.

  As they alighted to the floor, they were obviously speaking, but their words didn’t reach me.

  “Are we ready?” the devil hollered, waving his arms around. “Carnage! Bloodshed! Extra torture if you catch a limb!”

  The crowd whooped and cheered, but my eyes were on the two winged men. Cadriel shook his head and Drake almost smiled. Something else was said, then they bumped the backs of their fists together.

  “Let’s see if we can’t scare the little human.” The devil looked at me cheekily then dropped his hand and a great clang like a gong sounded and the fight began.

  It was like one of those epic battle scenes in a movie. Drake and Cadriel swung their weapons one-handed, like they weighed nothing, when I was sure I’d be hard pressed to even lift them with all my strength. Every hit clashed like thunder through the amphitheatre. When their bodies hit the floor, dust burst around them and, when they got up, there was a definite indent where they’d landed.

  The walls of the amphitheatre cracked under their force. Souls and hellspawn went flying if they didn’t scurry out of the way and got caught in the crosshairs. The crowd didn’t seem to be on either Drake’s or Cadriel’s side, they were all on the side of violence. And they got violence.

  I felt a thrill run through me when the first blood was spilled. I felt sick in my stomach, not just because my head told me Drake was in danger but also at the pure spectacle on display. That wasn’t all though, there was something else as well. Some other feeling that wasn’t disgust.

  It wasn’t concern.

  It wasn’t fear.

  It was excitement.

  I was enjoying it.

  A not insignificant – and growing – part of me was enjoying the show. I was invested. Would Drake avoid that swing of Cadriel’s blade? Would his sword connect on the next sweep? My adrenalin was spiking. My heart was in my throat. My butt was at the edge of the seat, my fingers gripping the side of it until my knuckles were white. I couldn’t look away if I wanted to. I had to know every move that happened.

  Watching Drake’s raw power was incredible. On some level, I appreciated it in a purely objective way. It was impressive. There was no question about it. His body moved in a smooth, controlled way whether he was attacking or defending. It was like the two of them were engaged in a deadly dance, sometimes on ground and sometimes in the air.

  But I’d be remiss not to admit that a larger portion of me was just one giant lust ball. There was something intensely sexy about watching him fight. About knowing how much precise control he had over every muscle and how deliberate and powerful he was with every movement.

  Every fist Drake connected with Cadriel got me excited. Every drop of blood that splattered onto the sandy floor made me want him to whisk me away to our room. It was animal. It was primal. It spoke to me on some deep, primordial level. And I wasn’t ashamed to admit it. Not in Hell.

  And I realised I liked that. I liked that I could think, feel, act however I wanted and not feel censored or judged. Because, let’s face it, the odds were that almost every soul in there had thought, felt or acted worse in their life and probably their death too.

  I heard a low chuckle to my left and my eyes slid to the devil.

  “Hell looks good on you, daughter,” he said proudly.

  “You approve of your son’s human wife?” I asked him, feeling emboldened by my newfound realisation.

  He grinned at me. “He could have chosen far worse.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  “As well you should.”

  There was an audible sigh of disappointment in the crowd and I looked to the fighters. Cadriel had lost his axe, one wing was bent at a bad-looking angle, and Drake’s sword was at his throat.

  Lucifer stood up, throwing his arms into the air and smiling widely.

  “We have a winner! That was a quick one. Disappointing. Excellent show everyone. Let’s get cleaned up and ready for the next one.”

  I was in the middle of looking for the best route down to Drake when his wings expanded again and he soared up to me. His eyes were red and he breathed heavily.

  “We’re going,” was all he said before he wrapped an arm around me and took off again.

  I pressed my face into his chest as my stomach seemed to drop out of my arse. Everything seemed to right itself, so I snuck a peek around and slammed my face back again.

  We were I didn’t even know how many hundreds of thousan
ds of miles above the bowels of Hell. Just hovering like it was nothing. I’d never been good with heights, and that had been when I wasn’t dangling above literal fire and death.

  But I’d found no fear in Hell. And I wasn’t going to let it stop me again.

  I took a deep breath and pulled my face out of Drake’s chest to look around again.

  It was like Autumn. Reds. Oranges. Yellows. Browns.

  Sure, it was fire and blood and torment and never-ending tunnels, but there was actually a weird beauty in it. I could almost see the Rainbow Fields, as a patch of vibrancy in the similarity of the rest of Hell. There were other similar pockets that broke up the monotony. But as not awful as it was, I could only deal with being that high up for so long.

  “Were we going to stay here forever?” I chuckled awkwardly.

  Drake huffed a rough laugh, held me tighter and said, “You might want to close your eyes again.”

  I wasn’t going to snub that advice. No sooner than my eyes were closed did Drake start diving. I wasn’t sure if I was screaming or not. If I was, the sound was being left behind.

  I finally felt the world still again and my feet hit the ground. I took a shaky breath to try to calm the furious rampage of my heartbeat and tried to peel myself off Drake.

  The lingering feeling of terror was suddenly replaced with a feeling of dread, deep down in my stomach. I turned slowly and saw a spectre floating towards us. It was like Larry, only more corporeal and, instead of a shapeless head, there was definitely a hood. Where the face should have been was just…black nothingness, like a black hole in eternity. The robes didn’t fray into nothing, but there still weren’t any hands visible and the material dragged along the ground. If I wasn’t in the middle of a mild panic attack, I would have joked the robe was too big for whatever that was.

  “Hey, what’s up?” Drake said to it.

  It stopped close to us then moved forward as though it was stepping.

  “Wren, this is Death,” Drake said.

  The hood bobbed like a nod. “Thane is fine. Really.”

  What was going on?

  “Thane?” I clarified, my voice a mere squeak.