by Liz Meldon
Each night she fell asleep in his arms, each morning she woke in them. They had most of their meals together, and he drove her to and from the university five days a week while she attended the new social work program that she so deeply enjoyed. He had memorized every inch of her. That far-reaching smile was forever burned into his mind’s eye. Her skin, her touch, her smell, her taste—Severus had studied each sensory detail and earned a PhD in Moira Aurelia.
Yet seeing her now—or any time they had been apart, no matter how fleetingly—was like gazing upon her for the first time, lust spiking, desire swelling, love all-consuming.
He would have never thought this would be his life. An incubus had no expectations for the future, no grand ambitions, no hope for normalcy. For incubi dwelled at the bottom of the demon hierarchy, right alongside demonic vampires, and Severus had accepted his lot in life long ago. Even on Earth, where the caress of a human, the promise of their precious life essence, was but a breath away, he had thought he would spend eternity alone.
Strange how the tides could change—and in his favor, for once.
Parked in the first space in the student lot, a uniformed attendant loitering in the rearview mirror of the SUV, perhaps with a ticket, Severus gave the horn two gentle taps. His inner demon rumbled with interest when his beloved waved at him, quickening her pace across the concrete, and in an instant his smile matched hers. He hadn’t seen her since quarter to eight this morning, and it was now approaching quarter after seven in the evening. Far too long. Far, far too long—especially for a demon without steady employment.
After all the declarations of love and possession, promises of forever and beyond, Severus couldn’t stomach going back to escorting. Sure, he could start each session with a bit of aggressive groping, and within minutes his clients would be in a pleasure-filled stupor. It would be easy money. It would keep him strong.
But the thought of touching another woman, intimately or not, made his stomach roil.
So, here he was, nearly two weeks without the touch of a human, his strength waning but his heart stronger than ever. Moira had commented on the dull grey of his eyes, insisting he touch someone, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.
Although necessity might eventually force his hand. Perhaps tomorrow night, when their household attended some Halloween festivities at the Inferno, he could get his fill of drunken human flesh.
“Hello, darling,” he crooned when Moira opened the back door of the SUV and threw her bag in. She blew him a kiss before slamming the door shut and then clambering into the passenger seat beside him. Hands cupping his face, his little hybrid leaned over for a much deeper, far longer kiss, the kind that left her breathless, her cheeks stained with color.
The kind of kiss that sent every drop of blood in his body careening toward his cock.
“Hi,” she whispered, tucking her short white locks behind her ears, their foreheads pressed together. “Missed you.”
Severus hummed in agreement, the sound eliciting a darker blush across her features, the color creeping up her sharp cheekbones. Clearing her throat, Moira sat back in her seat, absently reaching for the seat belt with her lower lip caught between her teeth.
“Well, how was the lesson?” He backed out of the parking spot and flashed a cutting smile to the loitering parking attendant along the way. Moira shrugged as she buckled herself in.
“Dense.”
“Ah. Much like the angel himself, then?”
“Severus.”
He chuckled, pausing at the lot’s exit and drumming his fingers on the steering wheel as a cluster of tiny students drifted by in front. While he still didn’t enjoy the fact that his beloved spent a mammoth two hours each week with an angel, he knew how much the meetings meant to her. With her father dead—and formerly psychopathic—Moira had had to navigate that world all by herself until Zachariah stepped in. Since then, Severus had noted the decrease in her stress levels, her anxieties about her continued growth into her angelic side lessening now that she at least partially understood the process.
Naturally, he and the angel hadn’t said more than two words to each other in the last four months, but from all Moira had told him, Zachariah seemed to enjoy her company, and vice versa, so Severus kept his teasing surface level.
For the most part, anyway. While he loved, treasured, and worshipped a woman who was part angel, at no point in their future did he anticipate bonding with any of the winged fucks.
“Zachariah taught me all about the court system in Heaven today.”
“Did he now?” Severus gritted his teeth as he turned onto the main road through the quiet campus, headed north toward the far edges of the city—hell-gate bound. For the most part, the angel had been helping Moira with issues directly related to her person: her wings, her light, her body’s continued growth. She had a very bare bones understanding of Enochian and could sketch a few of the intricate symbols from memory, but this—this was a change.
And not a welcome one.
“They have a court for every little infraction,” she noted as they breezed through an intersection. Distantly, the sun had started its rapid descent toward the horizon, and long, dark shadows stretched across the road while the cool autumn breeze whipped gusts of dead crunchy leaves over empty sidewalks.
“Souls go up before they go down,” he mused. “The sentencing is above, but your punishment is below.”
“Yeah, that’s what Zachariah said.”
“Do you think…” He hesitated, the words dying on the tip of his tongue. It pained him to even bring it up, but if the angel was preparing her for the nitpicky legal technicalities of Heaven, perhaps the worst possible outcome loomed closer than either cared to admit. “Do you think it’s in preparation—so you know what to expect?”
She nodded grimly, fiddling with the round buttons on the dash, hopping through radio stations. “That’s what I thought. He… He didn’t confirm or deny.”
Of course not. Whether Zachariah knew when and where Moira’s trials would take place was a moot point: it didn’t matter because he’d be sworn to secrecy. She wouldn’t be allowed legal counsel, no defense attorney to plead for her right to live. Moira would simply be hauled before a panel of angels, who would then determine her fate in a single, arduous hearing.
It was his understanding that most Nephilim were sentenced to death. Whatever was left of their human soul could go one way or the other—Heaven or Hell, depending on what they had done with themselves in life.
His nerves spiked as they drove through the suburbs. Life or death. Some high-flying prick could tear Moira away from him, and there was nothing he could do about it. Her impending trial was just one of many things about her angelic side that he couldn’t help with, and not only did it make him ill to consider, it fucking infuriated him.
To be so helpless, forced to just sit back and watch, wait, hope, pray…
It made Severus consider whisking Moira down to Hell permanently, as much as he loathed the realm, just to keep her out of harm’s reach.
But in that scenario, one threat would be eliminated, yet he risked a dozen more. It was a no-win situation, but, unfortunately, that was the case for most angel hybrids. Considered monsters by Heaven, they and the angel who sired them were almost always punished. One night over the summer, Verrier had sat down with Moira—at Alaric’s request—to give her the details that may not have made it into Zachariah’s sanitized history of angelic affairs. His little hybrid had taken the news in stride, but he knew the future weighed on her.
Which was why, if he could swing it, Severus did whatever he could to distract her. Their current living situation with Ella and Alaric, and more often than not Cordelia, helped tremendously, as did her decision to go back to school for something she genuinely wanted, but there was something else, something secret just between the two of them, that always made her smile.
“Oh, look!” she squealed, nose, forehead, and both hands pressed against the SUV’s window. “H
iiiiiiii, house.”
Severus slowed, the wheels crunching over the gravel shoulder as they loitered in front of the country estate. Situated about twenty minutes north of the university, some five minutes from the Farrow’s Hollow hell-gate, sat an old Victorian-era farmhouse with its sharply pointed rooftops and vergeboard-decorated gables, the stonework a rustic grey and the shutters over the semi-arched windows in black. The wraparound porch had been added roughly ten years ago and was in exceptional condition, as was the recently renovated kitchen. Three bedrooms. A chimney in the front parlor, another in the kitchen—authenticity at its finest. Four acres of land, most of it untouched forest. Moira had fallen in love before they’d even made it to the porch during the open house last month.
The For Sale sign still sat at the edge of the property next to the pine-green mailbox, taunting as ever. Mounds of recently raked leaves sandwiched in the cobblestone walkway from the unpaved driveway up to the veranda. Soft yellow lights warmed the porch on either side of the front door. While the house was more difficult to see after sunset, he knew Moira had memorized every detail; swiping through the photos on its online ad had become a nightly ritual.
“Any chance you heard from the agent today?”
“No, not yet.” He rubbed her back as he leaned over, studying what he hoped would be their future home with a little smile. His hand settled on the nape of her neck, her skin cool to the touch. “Don’t forget, they have a number of offers—”
“But ours was fifty grand over the asking price,” she muttered, her enthusiasm faltering as she looked back at him with wide, imploring eyes. Severus gave her neck a soft squeeze, then settled in his seat and switched the SUV back into drive.
“I know, darling. Be patient. The deadline for offers isn’t until the end of the month.”
“Well, that’s tomorrow.”
“I’ll phone Janice on Monday if we don’t hear anything.”
Flush against the window again, Moira stared down her dream home with a heavy sigh as they pulled away from the curb. “Okay.”
He patted her knee. “Positive thinking, darling.”
She snorted and batted his hand away, watching the property race by as the SUV picked up speed, peering over her shoulder until a cluster of dense pines blocked her view. From there, the conversation drifted to her day, her classes. Although Severus had very little interest in the subject matter, he so adored listening to her passion shine through as she told him every minute detail. He, on the other hand, could sum his day up in a single sentence.
“Did the grocery shopping.” When he caught her observing him a little too intently, he added, “You know—nothing taxing.”
“Let me see your eyes.”
“No.”
“Severus—”
“Moira, I’m fine,” he said stiffly, slowing the SUV to make the turn onto the narrow dirt road through the woods. No headlights greeted him, which meant they were, hopefully, the only ones making a pickup at the hell-gate tonight.
“You’d better feel up some humans at the club tomorrow,” she muttered, picking at her nails, that familiar worried expression still pinned squarely on him. “That’s all I’ll say about it.”
“The only one I want to feel up,” Severus rumbled, his eyes snapping to black when they slid over to her, “is you.”
She folded her arms with a huff. “Don’t try to distract me.”
“Oh, do I distract you?” He flashed the sinful smile that always made her wet. “This is news to me—”
“Tree—tree!”
A hard right had them swerving around that one stupid tree in the middle of the path, the one that split the road to the hell-gate in two, neither side wide enough to comfortably accommodate any vehicle. Bare branches scratched at the windows on Moira’s side of the SUV, grazing the pristine dark grey paint job; Severus felt the screeching of those branches in his teeth.
Another several bumps jostled them around, but soon enough they breached the clearing, greeted by a black sky twinkling with a million little lights. Severus flicked off the high beams so as not to blind any potential new topside visitors.
Within a minute of their arrival, his brother emerged from the hell-gate—looking very much the Malachi of old, oozing Saevitia wealth. A perfectly tailored black suit clung to the demon’s soaring, muscular figure, his shoulders looking especially broad tonight, his waist more than a little tapered. Polished oxfords crossed the dead, dry earth, untouched by the algae-laden bog purposefully enchanted to offend human senses. That great blond mane of his had grown long in his absence, swept back now in a low ponytail, and keen blue eyes assessed the clearing, turning black the moment they found Severus’s through the windshield.
Severus cut the engine, an unsettling feeling tightening in his gut as he appraised his older brother. The demon had tormented him his whole life, falling back on longstanding prejudices in the demon community against incubi and their ilk. Yet when he had last gone topside, finally freed from his obligation to guard their ancestral home after adding Cordelia and their aunt to the deed, Malachi had been—well, suddenly he was the brother Severus had always wanted, craved even. Not only had he been instrumental in Severus’s rescue from the Seraphim Securities dungeons, but he had protected Moira like the hybrid truly was their family.
Trust had been rebuilt, tenuous as it was, yet now as Malachi crossed the clearing toward the SUV, a shiny black suitcase in either hand, Severus feared all that brotherly growth may have been for nothing. After all, the chaos demon now wore three of their father’s old rings on his fingers, the ruby and gold pieces like beacons in the night.
Malachi’s expression remained oddly stoic as he approached, but as soon as Moira hopped out of the SUV, slamming the door behind her, the seriousness splintered, replaced by something warmer. Shaking his head, Severus followed after his beloved, slipping the keys in his pocket as he rounded the front of the enormous vehicle, mouth lifted in a tentative smile.
“Brother.” Severus offered Malachi a little head bob, only to watch in mild horror as the chaos demon dropped his luggage and swept him into a bone-crushing bear hug.
Literal. Bone. Crushing. He winced when a rib gave way, followed by something sharp shattering in his shoulder. Given his lack of human life essence these days, it would take a few long hours for the breaks to heal, but the look on Malachi’s face when he pulled away and clapped his arm made it somewhat worthwhile. At least the pain was tolerable.
“Brother,” the chaos demon greeted, his tone openly affectionate as he gave Severus a quick once-over. “You’re looking… tired.”
Severus rolled his eyes. “Ever the charmer.”
“Flattery gets you everywhere. Speaking of which…” Malachi hastily turned his attention to Moira. “How is my beautiful sister?”
Her eyebrows shot up. “Sister?”
“Too much?” He planted a firm kiss on her cheek as Severus grabbed one of his bags. Noticeably flustered, Moira cleared her throat, cheeks a little pink, and then shrugged.
“Uhm. No. It’s fine, I guess.”
Malachi scooped up his other bag. “Excellent. I think it’s warranted—after everything.”
“Careful, brother,” Severus said with a smirk, the pair drifting toward the rear of the SUV. “All this sentimental drivel… I’m starting to think you actually missed us.”
“You needn’t think, Sevvy,” the chaos demon insisted, chuckling when Severus shot him a glare. “I did miss you. Her more than you, of course.”
Severus rolled his eyes again and clicked the button on his key to open the trunk. “Of course.”
They loaded up his brother’s luggage together, the smallish black suitcases unnaturally heavy, weighing down the rear of the SUV once they were both stacked in place. Malachi seemed not to notice, chatting away about his travel ordeals. Given Halloween was less than twenty-four hours out, Hell’s departure terminal had been inundated with demons: whole clans, parties, and lone wolves alike preparing to m
ake the one-day trip to Earth.
While there were still rules, they seemed a little laxer on October 31st—at least in the nations that celebrated the holiday. Demons could harass, skulk, hunt, and trick under the guise of being festive. Some even spelled away the hell-gate’s enchantment, strutting about in full demon regalia, although it was more likely to happen in a city without a Seraphim Securities branch. As far as Severus knew, no demon had ever strutted the streets of Farrow’s Hollow with his horns and claws out for show, but there was still time.
“You should have seen the chaos at the permit offices,” Malachi muttered as they watched the automatic trunk door slowly descend. “Sheer madness.”
“Madness you had no hand in?”
The chaos demon smirked. “Only a little. I had the good sense to acquire my travel documents well before I needed to leave.”
So, this trip had been planned, eh? By the time Severus and Moira had returned from their glorious weeklong vacation at Nocturna Resort and Spa, Malachi had been gone for days without so much as a courteous farewell. Apparently he had been there one night, then gone by dawn the following morning, not a word said to any of the occupants of their shared home. Naturally, Cordelia had kept them somewhat apprised of his brother’s activities in Hell, but the details were hazy, even to her, and Severus hadn’t heard a peep from him until two days ago when a message had popped up on his phone:
7:45pm, Friday October 30th. See you then, brother.
Typical Malachi. No please or thank you—just a demand to provide transportation from the hell-gate. At least the demon himself was far friendlier than his written word. He even offered Moira the front seat, his tone rather prim and polite, as if he really did consider her a sister. The charade would fade: Severus recalled Malachi and Moira giving each other as good as they got before he disappeared.