I’ve been here hundreds of times and still, the painted depictions and carvings of the demons of the Underworld are in perfect condition. My father always said they were not mere paintings and sculptures, but in fact actual demons caught over the years trying to escape Hell. Even as a child I never believed him. I rarely believe anything he says. He is after all, the King of Death and Lies.
Nik, Evan and Vex walk into the Core a few minutes after me and we take our places on the black marble tiles, engraved with the mark of Hades—a flame surrounded by a circle—and the same words that are inscribed on the nine rings of Hell: Hell Combined, One Ruler of Nine.
My father stands and holds the Onyx Sceptre in his hand. He wears black jeans and heavy black boots, across his chest from his left shoulder to his right hip, a leather baldric holds his Demon Sword. He strikes the marble floor with the sceptre—our cue to kneel. I drop to one knee and my brothers do the same.
My father commands, “Rise my sons.”
I glance at the demons who stand motionless beside the throne, their eyes stare straight ahead, and their left hands rest on the hilts of their swords. My father waves his hand. Amber and scarlet flames rise from the pits below and surround us, licking at the walls and heating the Core as though we're trapped inside a furnace. Luckily, my brothers and I have been doing this since we were ten years old.
They get barely a glance before my father speaks, “Belial, my son, come to me.” I take three steps toward him then drop my head. Under his hand, I feel the burn instantly. I’m used to it and I no longer flinch. This is the easiest part of being a son of Hades. “You did not kill the female, my son?”
I meet his eyes. “No, Father,” I reply, knowing he’s had someone spy on me yet again. I glance over to Vex, he doesn't make eye contact. Wasn't me brother, he says in my head.
I'll find out who it is, then I'll kill them. No doubt it's one of his demon slaves, someone expendable, someone he knows I'll kill without hesitation.
My father cocks his head, and tightens his grip on the sceptre. “Why is that?”
I shrug. “I decided to keep her a while.”
He doesn't sound impressed. “Hmm, you are getting weak, my son?”
I clasp my hands behind my back. “No, Father, I am not weak.” He knows it, but he likes to question us. Me especially. The rest of my brothers are lucky if he makes eye contact with them.
He paces to his throne and places the sceptre in its holder then turns back to me. “Yet you keep a human, a mortal. You could have your choice of the others: the phoenix, nymphs, the vamps even?”
I don't falter. “Something different, Father.”
He waves a hand and sits in his throne. “Very well, do not get attached. I want her dead by the next full moon.”
“Yes, Father. I intend to kill her as soon as I've had my fill. Is she a half-blood? She’s as annoying as one,” I wonder aloud, trying to get something out of him.
“Yes.” he says simply.
Lola is a half-blood. I knew there was something different about her. “Ah, and you don’t want to keep her, have her join the furies?” I ask.
He crosses his legs and waves to one of demon slaves who fills a silver goblet and hands it to my father. “Not that one. She must die the true death. She will not be afforded the luxury of choice. Make it happen, my son. Enough with the questions.” He takes a mouthful of his drink.
“Yes, Father. Who’s the next target?”
“An angel.”
I roll my eyes in disgust. “Name?”
He makes eye contact and this time, flames appear in his ebony eyes. Whoever is next, must die. “Zadkiel,” he says.
I almost choke but manage to keep my composure. “You mean, Zadkiel, the Archangel? Are you fucking serious?”
He cocks his head and stands. “You are incapable?”
“I can do it, Father. Are you trying to start a war?”
He laughs. “Perhaps. Do not fail me, Belial.”
“Yes, Father.” I bow and step back beside my brothers as the flames dissipate and my father commands us to leave.
§§§
I shift out of his literal Hell hole. Meeting with my father is always intense, with the possibility of turning sour at any point. Now that I’m out, I head straight to Ryder. There’s no way he’s touching my female. My female? Yes, Lola belongs to me. I’ll kill him before I let that happen.
I knock and wait for him. Finally, he opens the door, and gasps when he sees me, as he should, the bastard. His face is black and blue, his eye and cheek are swollen, and dried blood covers his chest and arms.
He opens the door wide and steps aside. “Come in, Lord Belial. How can I help you?”
I step inside and cross my arms as I give him the death stare. “First, you can tell me what happened to my female, and second, if I find out you touched her, I’ll cut your balls out.”
He rushes to the refrigerator and pulls out two bottles of beer. He holds one out to me, when I shake my head he puts them both on the table. “Beli—Lord Belial,” he stutters. “I swear I did not touch her! I heard screaming as I was heading to the club. I heard there was a human female. I was curious.”
He sits on a timber chair at his kitchen table and offers me a seat. I shake my head again, I want facts, and I want to kill whoever touched Lola.
Ryder continues, “When I saw her, she was down the alley with Ronin. He had her pinned against the wall. I knew she didn’t belong here and thought maybe she had accidentally stumbled into Nevermore. I was going to help her get out. I killed him before he could hurt her. I asked her to come with me, she was afraid. Eventually she agreed.”
He raises his hands, and his brow creases as he speaks, “I swear, Lord Belial, I brought Lola here and let her use the shower, I didn’t do anything else.”
I’m not sure I believe him yet. “You spoke to her?”
He nods once. “Yes.”
“About what?” I ask.
He hesitates, we both know it will be more painful if I have to find out myself. I smile, amused at his reaction, and his ability to speak clearly while his hands and knees are trembling. Fucking stupid angels.
He drops his gaze. “You, and the club,” he mutters.
I uncross my arms and I put one hand on his head. He groans in pain as I see his memories flash before my eyes. I hear them talking. He’s telling the truth. There’s no point killing him. Lola will be pissed off, and I’ll need to explain his unwarranted death to my father.
“Stay away from her,” I warn. “I see you so much as breathe the air she’s breathing, and you’re dead, Ryder.”
He nods and steps back, rubbing his head. “Sure thing, Lord Belial.”
I open the door and warn Ryder again before leaving, “Don't fucking touch her,” I say. I pull the door closed and walk home.
§§§
In my room, Lola’s sitting on the sofa staring at the wall with her legs pulled up on the sofa, and her hair pulled over her shoulder.
I notice she has my underwear on. “I told you not to touch anything.”
She puts her hands on her lap. “I had no underwear,” she says, staring up at me with her crystal blue eyes.
Why the hell am I noticing her eyes? And her legs, those legs are so smooth. Sex, it’s because I need sex, and fast. And not with her.
She stands and pulls on the hem of the t-shirt, her cheeks turn pink and she bites her lip. Stop looking at her!
“I need clothes, Belial. If you’re going to keep me as your prisoner, I at least need some clothes.”
I shake my head. “No, you can wear what you’ve got on.” So I can see those smooth legs.
She drops back down to the sofa. “Pervert,” she mutters.
I roll my eyes. “Get up,” I order. She complies, then sighs loudly as if everything is a hassle. I put my arms around her waist and pull her close to my body. There’s something fragile about her, and the innate need to protect her is messing with my emotions. She has to
go. I must get Lola Thorne away from me.
I take off and fly high above the clouds, I know my father won't sense me this far away. I head to my cottage in the Sable Mountains. She doesn’t speak or move, then a few minutes pass and I hear her sobbing, and feel her tears. Damn humans.
I hold her tighter and fly down toward the mountains, and land on the grass. My cottage is small, one bedroom, with a bathroom, kitchen and living area. It's more like a shack really, nestled among tall gum trees and flanked by mountain ranges. Hidden away from everything.
“Stop crying,” I say, as I set her feet on the ground. She falls to her knees on the grass with her head down.
“Why don’t you just kill me? Why do you even want me, is it sex? Because you’re not getting it from me,” she cries. Part of me wants to comfort her and tell her she’s safe here, while another part of me is rational and knows this is a huge mistake. I need to kill Lola Thorne, and I need to do it as soon as possible. Although, I could kiss her again, just once.
“I don’t want sex, Lola. Now get inside.” I don’t want her. I keep telling myself. It’s partially true, but there is something more. I just don’t understand what it is. Yet.
Surprisingly, she listens to me and walks inside, her long dark hair falls down her back in waves and reaches her slim waist. Her legs are toned and smooth, and that damn ass is perfect. Maybe sex wouldn’t be too bad with her. Virgin? Who cares, it makes no difference to me. Sex is sex. I follow her inside as she huffs and drops down onto the sofa with her arms and legs crossed.
Her eyes narrow. “I hate you.”
“That’s good, you’re supposed to hate me.”
She stands with her hands on her hips. “Why not kill me Belial? I want to know why.”
“I don’t know,” I finally admit. “It’s pissing me off, though. I want to kill you. I’ve never let anyone go. I’ve killed every single target I’ve had.”
She huffs again, walks into the kitchen, and pulls open the cupboards, looking through each one and slamming the doors shut. “I’m hungry, do you have food?”
I ignore her, and watch her angrily pace back and forth, stomping her feet on the floorboards like an insolent child. She opens the fridge. “Where is this place?”
“Sable Mountains. It’s safe here, as long as you don’t go too far.” I sit on the arm of the sofa and continue to watch her.
Still pacing, she asks, “Are you leaving again?”
“Not yet, I’ll leave tonight when it’s dark.”
She sighs then reaches up to the top cupboard to check what's inside. I catch a glimpse of her ass and smile to myself. “And I’ll be alone?” she asks.
Maybe I could fuck her. I shake my head to get rid of the thought. “Yes, there’s nothing to be afraid of here.”
“I miss home, and Cress, she’s my best friend,” she says, looking down at the floor.
It pisses me off. I want to see her eyes. I want to know what she’s thinking and feeling, I want to kiss her again. What? No I don’t.
I want to know how this tiny mortal can ruin everything I’ve worked for.
I walk over to the counter and sit on the barstool. “She’ll get over it, they’ll stop looking eventually, presumed dead. Happens all the time. No one cares after a month or two.”
She puts a hand on her hip, and with her other hand, she twirls her fingers through her long dark hair. “How do you do it, kill so easily?” she asks. Damn Lola and her questions. Why do I want to talk to her?
I shrug. “It’s what I was born for. Like vamps are born to drink blood, angels are born to spread love and purity and all that bullshit. Nymphs are born to have sex. Demons, we’re born to kill, and fuck. Balance, Lola, it’s all about balance.”
She doesn’t answer. She opens a carton of juice, pours it into a glass, and takes a mouthful. Then, she opens a block of chocolate and starts eating. She holds it out to me. “Want some?” she asks.
I shake my head, still watching her. Why is she so fascinating? She stands there, and her eyes dart around the room while she chews. Her cheeks are pink and I don’t know if it’s because she’s hot or cold. I don’t know, but I want to know. I'm going crazy.
Something tells me to go to her, to hold her and touch her body, to warm her from the inside. It would be so easy.
No. Not Lola. I need to focus.
She swallows a mouthful of chocolate. “So, I can't have clothes?” she asks, taking another bite.
“You don’t need clothes, you’re not going anywhere.” She sighs loudly. I have no choice but to get her clothes and shut her up.
“Fine, you want clothes, I’ll get you clothes. You stay here and don’t try to leave.” She smiles. Holy shit, she is so goddamn sexy. There’s something about her, she’s not like any female I’ve ever met. I shake my head and focus.
Zadkiel, I should focus on the Archangel I must kill. The Archangel with the power to regenerate over and over. Why him?
It’s not working. I can’t get my mind off Lola standing a few feet away in my underwear and t-shirt.
ELEVEN
Kamen
Nevermore
§§§
Belial appears in my kitchen, unannounced as usual. Not that I care. If Belial is here it means he wants something, and when Belial wants something, I get something in return—the best sex I’ve ever had. “Well, well, if it isn’t the Great Lord. To what do I owe this pleasure?”
He leans against the kitchen counter, and I pour him a glass of whiskey. He takes a mouthful and adjusts his massive cock. I avert my eyes and swallow hard, knowing soon, Belial’s cock will be deep inside me. A familiar, desperate ache floods my core.
Belial is gorgeous. No one else knows it, but beneath the scars, the rough exterior, and the bad reputation, he’s gentle and kind. Not to mention amazing in bed. Sometimes, I can’t believe he is the son of Hades himself. There’s a side to Belial unlike any of the demons in the Underworld, a side that doesn’t belong in the depths of Hell. Maybe his mother was an angel. I’ve asked, but he denies any knowledge of her.
He seems agitated as he runs a hand through his hair. “K, I need some female clothes.”
I jump up and sit on the counter. “Ooh, for some kinky stuff, Belial?”
He rolls his eyes. “Fuck off, they’re for a female.”
A female? I wonder who it is, and why he needs clothes for her. “What size?” I ask.
He shrugs and looks me up and down. “How the hell should I know? Your size.”
I raise an eyebrow. “How old?” I ask curiously.
He takes another mouthful of whiskey and bangs the glass down on the counter. Okay, this female is pissing him off. That much I can tell. “Doesn’t matter,” he says.
“Ooh… a secret. And what do I get?” I ask, twisting a curl around my finger.
He refills his glass, then stands in front of me. “What do you want?” The heat radiating off his body is intense. Fucking hot demon. He knows what I want, and he wants me to say it.
I smile. “You know what I want, Belial, same as always,” I whisper. I rub my hand over his bulging cock, and he sucks in a breath.
He stands between my legs, his breath hot on my lips as his hands wander down past my hips to the hem of my short silk dress where he stops and grips my thighs to spread my legs wide. He lifts my underwear to the side and slides one finger inside me, then two, pumping them in and out, slow and deep. He’s tormenting me with the decadent scent of his arousal, and his ability to control not only my body, but my entire being.
Five minutes, and I’m already consumed with desire as Belial leans in close to my cheek and whispers, “Bedroom.”
Sex is what he wants from me. What we have is an agreement: we fuck, drink, and we share information. No strings attached. I have no intention of becoming involved in a relationship with a demon, especially one as infamous as Belial. At least that’s what I try to tell myself. I stand from the counter and push the straps of my dress off my shoulders and let
it pool at my feet. Belial steps back, he appears unusually anxious. His gaze is intense. I can tell he’s thinking about something, or someone else.
I search his mind for what’s got him so hot and bothered and I see her. She looks young. She has long wavy black hair that curls up on the ends as it reaches her slim waist. She has clear pale skin, pale blue eyes, and a light dusting of freckles across her cheekbones and nose. She’s petite like me—but mortal. Am I jealous? Hell no. Belial’s fucked hundreds of females, and I know for a fact I’m his number one. Jealousy isn’t an issue. If he wants the mortal female, he can sure as hell have her. As long as I get one last night before he claims her as his own.
My attention is brought back to Belial as he drops his pants and stands before me in all his glory. Yes, he is glorious. His cock is rock hard and pulsating, in fact I’ve never seen him so hard. He grips it tightly in his hand, groaning as if he’s in pain. For a moment I’m in awe, consumed by the masculine beauty of all that is, Belial Hellion.
I swallow hard, something tells me this time is going to be different. A thick cloud of sexual tension hovers in the air, my body is humming with tempestuous hunger unlike anything I’ve felt before. I take two steps toward him, closing the distance between us.
I gulp a mouthful of whiskey and hand him the bottle. He takes a swig before he drops it on the floor. The bottle lands with a thud on my Persian rug, spilling the remaining contents over the floor.
Fuck the rug.
“Come closer,” he beckons. I take another step, watching his cock still tight in his hand as he strokes its engorged length slowly, methodically. I lick my lips in anticipation as his other hand comes up to my jaw, and he cups my cheek. He’s never been this desperate, or this calm. A seemingly perfect balance between frenzied lust and unwavering restraint.
I stand still. All at once I feel confused, entranced, and exposed. The anticipation is killing me, my knees are trembling, and I squeeze my thighs together at the thought of his hard, pulsating cock. He traces his fingers down my arm, my waist, and back up to my breasts. He circles my nipple. Between the ache in my core, and the throbbing between my legs, I have no idea how much longer I can postpone the inevitable.
Untamed: Demon Soul Page 9