by Angel Lawson
As if my father is listening, the desert gives way to a lush garden. All around us are leafy trees, the sound of rushing water, and the scent of flowers. A building emerges from the brush, painted a cool white with a thatched roof. It’s instantly thirty degrees cooler, and the sweat dries on my skin. I glance around warily and see a man coming through the front door holding a tray of refreshing pink drinks. He smiles welcomingly.
“I thought you said it would get more dangerous,” Elizabeth says, her face brightening at the scene. She skips ahead and takes a drink, gulping it down quickly.
Damn, my father is good.
19
Hildi
The drink is welcome after the long walk in the desert, as is the shade and break from the sun. My skin feels dried-out. My throat dusty and sore.
“Please, come inside,” says the man who offered us the drinks. He’s young and handsome, wearing a white suit that would look ridiculous on anyone else but perfect on him.
The apprehension I felt crossing the desert doesn’t fade as we go inside, even though luxury is everywhere I look. Rupert and Armin are close by, ever alert. Elizabeth spins, taking in the grandeur, her pink hair shining. Luke is the only one that hesitates at the door, concern etched on his angular face. When he notices me watching him, he gives me a tight grin before walking across the room.
“Welcome to the Desert Palace, a place of rest and respite.”
“This isn’t the third circle?” Armin asks, looking around. His eyes flit over a crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling, and the guests sitting at a bar across the room. A full spread of food has been set out on a long banquette. Fruit, meats, cheeses, bread, and many desserts. There’s so much sugar I can smell it in the air. The back wall is open, leading to what looks like a patio and pool deck. Everywhere else we’ve traveled in this realm has had an ancient feel. This one is decidedly modern.
“There are many paths through the Inferno, some carrying you to places of pain, others to pleasure. The Palace has long been a place of rest and relaxation. We’re aware of how tenuous traveling the Dark Lord’s realm can be. Take a moment to recharge before heading back into cruel reality.”
“I could use another night’s rest,” Rupert says. He’s been worn out since we pulled him from the Lust Circle.
Elizabeth walks up with another drink in one hand and a bunch of grapes in the other and says, “Same.”
“What about Miya?” I ask, feeling like we’re being swayed from our mission. “Shouldn’t we get to him as soon as possible?”
“Miss,” the man says, giving me a reassuring grin, “if I dare say so, you look like you could use a bit of a break. Outside of the Palace, nightfall will soon set. The desert is no place to be after dark. I suggest you leave in the morning to continue your search for your friend.”
Armin rubs the back of his neck. “We’re no good to Miya if we’re exhausted.”
I grimace. There’s no doubt in my mind that everyone is worn out. I know I am, and the walk through the desert didn’t make it any better. I look across the room at the lanky blond by the bar.
“Luke?” I ask, calling out to the Nephilim, “what do you think?”
He grabs a drink off the tray of a passing waiter. “I think we’re damned if we do or damned if we don’t.”
Armin slides a hand behind my back. “It’s okay to take a minute,” he says, uncharacteristically. “We’re in a war, not a battle, and every soldier needs a reprieve.” He kisses my forehead. “Even if it’s just for a night.”
I nod, the decision made, even though I feel tight anxiety in my chest. Luke swipes another drink off the bar before walking over and handing it to me. “You’re in Hell,” he says, “if you’re going to do it, do it right.”
I take the fruity drink and tip it back, feeling the fizzy juice on my tongue. At first the liquid is refreshing and cool, but as it goes down it settles in my belly, spreading warmth through my limbs and easing the tension in my neck.
Something about this place is off—it’s too shiny, too clean, too nice.
The sound of a loud click from behind me draws my attention and I turn, seeing the doors to the outside shut, a bolt siding into place.
Whatever this place is, we’re here for the night.
Once we agree to stay, we’re whisked off by an eager staff to luxurious rooms. Everything shines with bright cleanliness; the smooth white bedspread, the plush pillows and most of all, the massive outdoor shower with an open roof and a million stars above. The shower itself is so big Rupert, Armin, and I have no problem fitting in all at once.
“Mmmmmmmm,” I moan, closing my eyes. “Odin, that soap smells so good, feels good, too.”
Never in my life have I felt so dirty.
“Just the soap?” Rupert asks. His hands massage the suds across my back, dipping over the curve of my ass. His teeth drag against the flesh on my neck. He’s different since the Lust circle, more assertive. The fear and insecurity he carried at the Academy is gone, stripped away and resulting in a man that knows what he wants. Armin sits on the bench in front of me, water running down his magnificent physique. He lathers soap in his strong hands and begins diligently washing my breasts. His cock bobs eagerly, and I reach down, taking great care to lavish attention to his taut lower belly, then down to his cock, before fondling his balls. He hisses in delight, fingers curling against my sides.
Rupert’s fingers, slippery with soap, venture between the crease in my backside, toying with the tender flesh. I fall forward and Armin secures each hand to his strong shoulders, our mouths inches apart. With another handful of soap, Armin gently massages the bundle of nerves between my legs, while the tip of Rupert’s cock urgently probes against me.
This was something we hadn’t done, but I trust these men with my life—as they’d trusted me to save them. All three of us wear the rings, linking us together in the physical and metaphysical world. I’m ready for this. For the feel of both of these men at once.
I hold Armin’s eyes, steady and sure, as Rupert presses into me; painstakingly slow, inch by inch. My breath catches and Armin leans forward, sweeping his tongue into my mouth while Rupert strokes a hand down the length of my back. I want to cry, I want to beg, I want to plea for them to release me from this moment of too much, way too much, but at the same time I want more.
“More,” I whisper, breaking my Armin’s kiss. His fingers spread between my legs, one entering inside of me, then the other, his thumb rubbing circles against my clit. Rupert must hear my plea as well because he rocks his hips, entering me even deeper. I cry out when his hips are flush against my ass, his cock buried as far as it can go. The nerves between my legs quivering, just like my knees.
Rupert’s hands move to hold me up, one splayed over my stomach. That allows me to lay my hands back on Armin’s throbbing cock, stroking him with my hand. Rupert pulls out again before pushing back. Over and over he guides himself in, over and over Armin kisses away my cries of pleasure. I’ve never felt anything like this and gods, it’s like I can’t get enough. I want him to fuck me, I want Armin to stroke me, I want their hands and mouths and fingers all over, all in me.
I want to feel them both lose themselves to ecstasy.
With a building crescendo, my body has had enough. My orgasm rips through me, gripping me from all sides. The tension is what sends Rupert to his final push, a groan deep in his chest. He pulls out, painting my back with his cum, while Armin’s head falls back against the tile, a spray of sticky white landing on my wet chest, before the running water washes it down the drain.
I fall forward and Armin catches me, cradling me in his lap. My body aches, but still wants more. I look at the two of them and almost ask, “Can we do that again? Now? Soon?” The growl of my stomach brings me back to reality, reminding me that there’s more than one type of hunger that needs to be satiated.
Linen seems to be a theme.
It’s the fabric that makes up my dress as well as Elizabeth’s. The men
all wear cream linen pants and a loose shirt, buttoned up the front. Rupert’s hair is tied at the back of his neck, while Armin’s olive skin looks even darker against the crisp white.
Luke, well the beauty of the Nephilim is startling as he sits at the table with a drink in his hand.
I don’t know if it’s the outfit, the drink, or the literal Hell we’ve been through the last four days, but suddenly he’s not looking so young anymore.
His eyes skim over me as we arrive to the dining room and take our seat at the long outdoor table. Elaborate china and silver flatware sit before each seat. Candles flicker across the tabletop, making the crystal wine glasses glow. The only dinner I’ve ever been to this fancy was back at the Nead, but even this feels more extravagant.
Asmodeus, the same man that had welcomed us to the Palace earlier, returns and stands before an empty seat at the end of the table. His grin is wide, and his hair slicked back. He too is in the requisite white. “I hate to inform you that your host is unable to join you for dinner.”
“Host?” Armin asks, holding the chair out for me. I sit next to Luke and across from Elizabeth.
“The owner of the Palace. He usually likes to meet all guest personally and spend a little time with each of you, but some, ah, business came up and he’s currently occupied.”
“Maybe later,” Rupert says, eyeing him carefully. “We’d like to thank him for his hospitality.”
“Of course,” he says, bowing slightly. He snaps and a stream of servants descend, carrying massive plates of delicious-smelling meats, vegetables, and freshly baked bread. My stomach rumbles again. “Enjoy your meal.”
We eat like starved soldiers, which is exactly what we are. The rabbit stew and hard bread we’ve been subsisting on since we crossed through the temple has barely been enough to survive on. The moon shines overhead and the waiters replenish our glasses and Elizabeth’s dessert demands, swiftly.
We aren’t alone on the patio. Other people sit at smaller tables, or perch at the bar. There’s an air of intimacy—not unlike Rupert’s court. People kiss freely, which after my own public display in his court, I keep my eyes averted, not wanting to intrude on their moment. It’s not until Armin’s hand squeezes my thigh, and he whispers in my ear, “Notice anything strange about the other guests?” that I pause to take a look.
Discreetly, I scan the patio, looking past Elizabeth eating her third bowl of chocolate mousse.
“Huh,” I say, sizing up the couples. People are paired off; men and women, two women, even three men sitting on a couch by a fire pit. What I thought was basic kissing looks a little different on closer inspection. “What are they doing? Licking each other?”
Necks, wrists, the soft skin inside the elbow. I narrow my eyes and take in the fact that every single grouping is involved in this same behavior.
“Are they cats or something? Like cleaning one another?” Armin and Rupert share a dark look. “What?”
Luke’s eyebrows rise as he watches us closely, mouth open as though he’s about to speak. He doesn’t though, because Asmodeus reappears, almost out of thin air, smiling at each of us.
“How was dinner?”
Elizabeth scrapes the last bit of chocolate out of the bowl. “So good. So. So. Good.”
“Outstanding. Our host will be so pleased to hear that.”
“Question,” Luke says, holding up a finger. “Can you let me know if our ‘host’ is actually my father?”
He gasps. “Oh no, definitely not. I mean, not that your father doesn’t own this entire realm, including the Palace, but no, he is not our host.” He leans forward, placing his hands on the table. “He did send me out here to invite you to a private party, one reserved for special guests.”
Something in my brain, way past the wine and the food and the lingering memory of amazing shower sex with Armin and Rupert, tickles. A warning? A desire? I look at my companions for help. Elizabeth is already standing.
“Will there be more dessert?”
What’s with this girl and dessert?
“Of sorts, yes,” Asmodeus replies. “There should be a little of something there for everyone.”
His tone is mischievous, ominous really, but we stand and follow him across the patio to a set of double doors that leads to a back building. We pass the couples and again, I notice something off. There seems to be a dominant partner, the one with the licking. They all wear dark clothing—a direct contrast to the linen fabric everyone else wears. I scan the patio and see that every other couple is the same. Dark suits for the men. Dark dresses for the women, all in a position of dominance. Just as we reach the door, I make eye contact with a beautiful fair-haired woman sitting on a couch, snuggled up to a handsome man. Her black skirt hitched up her leg. The women glances up at me, eyes shining in the light, but that’s not what catches my attention. It’s her teeth.
Sharp, pointed, terrifying teeth.
She winks and slowly licks her incisor, before plunging them into her partner’s neck. The man slouches back, fisting his hand into the woman’s hair, urging her to drink.
My heart rate quickens, and I squeeze Armin’s hand, but it’s too late. We’re already through the doors and in the room. The décor is different in here. Less spa-like, more gothic. The chandelier is made of twisted iron, and light flickers from red candles. The fabrics in the room are dark—deep red or black velvet—including the clothing of the people inside. At the front of the room I see a man, tall with dark skin and a smooth bald head. When he turns, his eyes are pitch black. The move reveals a couple behind him sitting on a chair, most visible is a young woman—her dark hair trailing down the pale skin of her arm. She’s in a black dress, glittery with sequins, a far cry from the hippie, linen sundress I’m wearing. Her shoes are spiked heels and she’s sitting, curled up in someone’s lap. Her face is nuzzling the neck of her partner.
“Welcome,” the man says, nudging the girl to turn around. “Sweetheart, don’t be rude to our guests, you know they’ve traveled a long way to get here.”
She turns while wiping at the corner of her mouth, her lips curved into a grin.
My stomach plummets. She’s instantly recognizable, to me, to all of us.
“Marielle,” Elizabeth gasps, looking at our former schoolmate; the Vampire Princess. The man, imposing and confident, there’s no question that he’s her father, the Vampire King. Sweat beads on my neck and I know that we are in deep, deep trouble.
“Hello, friends,” she says, twisting so we can’t see her prey. “Long time, no see.”
Before I’ve processed what’s happening before me, I’m looking for an out—an escape.
Armin’s fingers squeeze mine and he whispers my name, “Hildi.”
He jerks my arm to get my attention. He nods at Marielle, then at the man, that she’s revealed behind her. His eyes are glazed, his jaw lax, skin pale and sallow. His head leans against the back of the chair. I think for a moment he’s dead, but the small tug between us flickers. Not quite a bond, but familiarity. Want. It’s been there since the night we…
It’s Miya.
20
Miya
Peace.
Strength
Tranquility.
Peace.
Strength.
Tranquility.
I will survive this demon’s den. I will reject the poison throbbing under my skin. I will repel the Vampire Princess’ advances. I’ll refuse their food. Their drink. Their sin. Their gluttony.
I repeat these words, over and over. An affirmation? A mantra? A prayer to the gods, who I am pretty sure aren’t listening. Or perhaps they’re laughing.
They should, because I did this to myself.
I broke my vow. Failed the test. Succumbed to temptation for pleasure and flesh.
Was it worth it?
For Hildi, yes. A million times yes. I’d do it over and over. I’d let her use me to fight the poison in her system each and every time. I’d let her pull my heart, drag me wherever she want
ed to go. But just because I don’t have regrets, doesn’t mean retribution isn’t coming.
It’s here.
In the form of pointed teeth.
The only thing I can do is hold my resolve, even though my body is burning up. Even though the hunger is eating me alive. I fight, despite the fact dehydration and blood loss are sucking me dry.
I won’t let her win. I will not give the Vampire King or his daughter the victory of my failure. To do this I’ll sink further and further into myself. Seeking peace. Resolving my strength. Striving for tranquility.
That’s how I’ll survive.
21
Hildi
How did I miss it?
How did I miss him?
These questions run through my mind as I assess and reassess our situation. We’d been in the Third Circle the whole time. The gluttony of sex, food, and drink. Comforts everywhere. It’d been so pleasant, so enjoyable, that I hadn’t even noticed. I’d forgotten our mission.
I’d forgotten Miya.
I look to my ally, my lover, my potential mate. He’s strung out and barely conscious, his neck mottled with bruises. What had she done to him? Where is my strong warrior?
I start toward him, but a man blocks my path. He’s big—taller than Armin. Hands clasped in front of his waist. I look around his frame, my heart aching at the sight of the Samurai.
“What did you do to him?” I hiss at Marielle.
“Sometimes the strongest people struggle the most,” she replies with an innocent shrug. “He fought at first, valiantly, but all those years of denying himself, all the delicious, enticing treats at his disposal…I guess he cracked.”
The temptations around the room are overwhelming. Food and drink are plentiful. Beautiful women and men lounge around the room. Their bodies are perfect, alluring, their energy hums. Jewels hang from their necks, sparkle in their ears, glint on their fingers. The room reeks of excess. There are others, mostly men, that immediately blocked the doorway. These are all minions of the Vampire King. We’ll have to fight through them all to get out of here.