After a minute of silence, he turns to me again. “Piper’s father was a shifter, that’s why she’s what you call mischievous. Zak’s father was a vampire. A furie’s looks, personality, and temperament depend on their father’s race. And you can forget about Zak, you won’t be going near him again.”
I wonder if I'll ever speak to anyone other than Belial.
I cross my arms on the table. “Oh, okay. So, can I stay like this forever? If my father is, or was, immortal, why aren’t I?”
He takes two bowls from the cupboard and puts them beside the stove. “Not forever, you’ll die eventually. Half-bloods born to a mortal mother, aren’t immortal. Genesis would have taken that from you as soon as he became aware of your existence. And even if you die naturally, you will still have to choose.”
I’m so confused. “I still don’t get it, Belial. Why would I choose to be evil?”
“It’s not choosing evil, Lola. It’s choosing a side, the side that can give you what you want. The side that shows your true self. All mortals, half-bloods or not, have two sides. All of them at one point in their lives, have chosen to sin. Life requires an even balance of both sin and virtue. Those scales can, and often do, tip,” he says.
Balance. If everything is about balance, why don't I have it? Where is my balance?
Belial checks on the risotto then comes back and pulls out a chair and sits opposite me. “For instance, when you’re irritated or provoked you’ll be more inclined to sin and harm another being, either physically or verbally. When you’re in love, or overcome with desire, you’ll find virtue more appealing and you’ll be more inclined to show kindness, gratitude, and honesty. Each being, mortal or immortal, has balance within themselves, and the overall balance of all our worlds depends on that.” He leans back and puts his hands behind his head.
I take it all in. “So those devils, or demons, at the club, were they furies or half-bloods at one point?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “No. Most are demons, sons of Hades or Lucien. Their mothers are usually female demons or devils, occasionally vampires. You know, I didn’t think you’d go in. I was actually surprised you didn’t run back crying.” He seems genuinely shocked.
I raise my eyebrows and stare at him. “I’m no chicken, Belial. I’m not afraid of demons,” I lie.
He nods as he stands. “Right . . .” he says, as if he’s already read my mind.
It’s all so confusing and I’m starving, but I need to know more. “Is there a Queen of Hell?” I ask curiously.
He spoons the risotto into the bowls and places them on the table before sitting back down. “Nope, there’s a fucked-up princess, does that count?”
“A Princess of Hell? Is she your sister?”
He nods. “Unfortunately.”
“Is she a demon or a half-blood? Does she have wings? Does she kill people too?” My mind races as I think of the questions I need answers to.
He pours me a glass of wine. “She’s a demon. No, she doesn’t kill. And wings, I wouldn’t know. I’ve never met her, I’ve only heard rumours.”
I sigh. Sensing he’s not going to tell me anymore about his sister.
I change the subject. “Belial, do you know who killed my adoptive parents?” Something tells me he does, but he’s not going to divulge that information either.
He leans back on the chair and sighs. “Nope, I can find out. It won’t make any difference now anyway, Lola. They’re dead, and whoever killed them, could also be dead.”
Maybe he’s right. Maybe I should let go of the past and focus on figuring out where my future lies. Try to find this balance Belial is always talking about. “Where are we going tomorrow?”
“Visit an old friend.”
I scoop up a mouthful of risotto. “This friend’s a demon?”
“No. Angel actually.”
I take another mouthful, the earthy taste of the mushrooms and the creamy texture fill the empty pit in my rumbling stomach. One thing I’m sure of, Belial can cook.
When I look up, he seems confused again, as though he’s always trying to figure out what I’m thinking, or feeling. He sighs and keeps eating.
“Are you going to kill him?” I ask, hoping I don’t have to watch this time.
“That’s my plan.” We finish eating in silence until Belial gets up and clears the table. He puts the dishes in the sink and without looking at me, says, “You should get some sleep, I’ll be out here.”
“You’re not sleeping?” I ask, hoping he’s not leaving me here alone again.
He wipes down the countertop and throws the dishcloth in the sink. “Not yet, I’ve got some things to take care of.”
“More killing?” I ask.
“Get some sleep Lola. We’re leaving early,” he says, ignoring my question.
EIGHTEEN
Belial
Mortal Earth
§§§
It’s still dark outside, close to sunrise. I know if we leave now, we’ll have less chance of being seen by my brothers, or other demons. Yes, we. There’s no way in hell I’m leaving Lola here, not a chance. She belongs to me and I intend on keeping it that way.
I don’t want sex, not with her. Not yet. Although I am slightly more curious now. And lying here with her leg across my thighs, I’m even more tempted to lie over her and feel her body writhing under mine. If for nothing more than to get rid of my throbbing cock. I move slightly, and she tightens her grip across my chest. My heart beats faster, damn this half-blood and the feelings she’s giving me.
I decide to make the most of it and feel her soft, supple skin. The fine tiny hairs on her body stand on end when I run my fingers along her thigh. I haven’t once read her thoughts. Mortals, even half-bloods, are disgusting at the best of times, and so fucking boring. I flatten my hand on her upper thigh, still not moving. She lays still, although her heart beat is faster than it was a few seconds ago.
Maybe she’s dreaming, I don’t know and why do I care? The one question that keeps coming to my mind. Why? There’s no way I could bond with her. Angels bond with angels or other immortals, not half-blood mortals.
Unless Hades was lying. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time for that asshole. Who knows? They’re all bastards and liars. Including me.
I slide my hand over her firm ass and her leg twitches slightly. “Lola,” I call softly, but there’s no answer.
I’ll just read her mind, it’s probably all bullshit anyway.
Don’t move. Don’t stop him. She’s thinking.
The smile spreads across my face. I stop and sigh. What the hell am I doing? I don’t want her. I don’t even like her. Sure, she’s hot as hell, has gorgeous blue eyes, and even though I hate to admit it, I love her attitude.
Sex, it’s all I want. I could do it, I know how to pleasure a female. The thought of a half-blood disgusts me. I listen to her thoughts again, it’s the same, over and over. “Lola,” I say louder.
She moves a little and her heart races again. I know she wants me. She wanted me from the second she saw me. She was mesmerised by my presence, even if she didn’t know it.
A virgin though? That means slow, and probably messy. I’m into fast and clean, in and out.
I play over the scenarios in my head. One, she’d be right into it and we’d fuck and leave, all good in my book. Or two, she’d want love, talking, and hugging. Fuck that, number one always wins. I won’t give her the choice.
I stroke the back of her thigh, smoothing my hand right up between her legs. As my hand continues further, the scent of her arousal overwhelms me, and as she breathes steadily, her breasts move ever so slightly. Her thoughts betray her yet again—she’s desperate.
One touch and she’s mine. I glide my hand over her ass and back down between her legs, the movement is so slight she probably thinks I didn’t notice, but I did. And damn it, I want to fuck her so bad it’s killing me. Her desire is overpowering, almost as though her body is beckoning me, and I’m losing focus.
&nb
sp; She’s not wearing make-up and still her skin is almost flawless, apart from the tiny freckles dusted across her cheek bones and nose. Perfect brows and long dark lashes frame her eyes. Then, there’s those full pink lips. I can imagine them wrapped around my cock, sucking me as I groan in pleasure. I could kiss her again right now, but she wants it, so she’s not getting it.
I whisper her name knowing she won’t be able to resist. “Lola.” I’m right. She opens her eyes.
My hand is planted firmly between her legs, cupped over her soft lace underwear. I see her swallow as her blue eyes stare into mine. “You okay?”
A tiny, “Mmm,” escapes her lips. I give another gentle squeeze between her legs and start rubbing again, eager to see her reaction.
Her eyes close as she arches her back and raises her hips. She’s so desperate, I could make her do anything right now, but for reasons I can’t explain, I don’t want to. I want to keep her this way, needing and wanting me. If I fuck her, she’ll change. She won’t be pure. She moves her hips again and breathes quietly as though she’s trying to resist the urge to moan. I push her onto her back and her legs fall to the sides, opening for me.
Against her ear I whisper, “You like this?”
She moans, “Hmm.”
Her back is still arched and she turns her face away from me. I need to see her. I want to see her eyes again, those gorgeous crystal blue eyes. “Lola,” I whisper.
She turns her head as I push her underwear to the side, and slide a finger inside her. She sucks in a breath and clamps her eyes shut as I add another finger, and in the heat of the moment I realise I may not have the willpower to stop myself from ravishing her gorgeous, mortal body.
I inhale against her ear, taking in the sweet scent of her hair as her breathing becomes heavier. “Open your eyes, Lola.”
I consider leaving her like this. I know she’ll let me do it again, but I know if I let her climax, she’ll want it even more. Right now, she wants sex. It’s all she’s thinking about. I’m not giving it to her. Not crossing that line. I’ve made my choice and I’m sticking to it until I find out what’s going on with my father—or fathers.
I finger her with slow, deep thrusts. Her hips move rhythmically, her head is back, and her lips are slightly parted. There’s the familiar pink blush in her cheeks and an unmistakable wetness that fills her core. I push my fingers in deeper, causing her to gasp again.
Now I’ve listened to her thoughts, I’m addicted to knowing what she’s thinking. Unable to stop myself, I invade her mind again. I’m not surprised to discover she wants more. She’s aching for me, begging me not to stop. She’s so tight, so wet, and I’m so damn hard.
I slow down, teasing, testing her reaction to see how long she can hold out before she breaks and finally asks me for it. I have a feeling she’s stubborn though, and won’t ask at all. I slide my fingers out and trace them across her smooth, flat stomach and tell her, “You’re so wet, baby.”
No, no. God no, don’t stop. Is all she's thinking.
“More?” I whisper. She nods slightly and I go for it, harder, faster, and deeper than before. She grips the sheets with both hands and moans. She’s already throbbing, and her slick walls are humming. I know she’s close to climax.
My cock’s pulsating, straining to get out and thrust deep inside her tight wet folds. Don’t go there. Want to go there… desperately.
I focus only on Lola. She’s still staring into my eyes, wanting me to kiss her. I want to. I want to show her everything I know, but there’s something sexy about her like this.
Around my fingers, her throbbing grows stronger, her breaths turn to pants, then whimpering as she finally climaxes. Her orgasm soaks over my fingers as I slide them in and out slowly, letting her finish. She moans in pleasure, as she comes down from the high of perhaps her first real climax. When her heartbeat steadies and her body stills, I look into her eyes, and whisper, “You’re welcome, beautiful.”
NINETEEN
Lola
Mortal Earth
§§§
You’re welcome? He gives me the orgasm of the century, and he says, ‘you’re welcome?’ Then leaves. Damn it, Belial!
Damn, damn, damn!
I can’t believe I let him do that to me. Never in my life have I felt anything like it.
He walks out of the bathroom dressed in long, white cotton pants and nothing else. He's wearing no shirt, no weapons belt, and no black, other than his beautiful feathered wings. I take in his scent. Cinnamon bun heaven.
I wave a hand in his direction. “What’s with the white?” I ask, not wanting to even discuss what else just happened.
He looks down at himself and sighs. “Heaven, you know purity and all that shit.”
Maybe it didn’t happen. Another dream? No, that was real. There’s no mistaking my racing heart, the throbbing between my legs, and the wet patch I’m sitting in. Orgasmic heaven? I wonder if that’s a thing.
I cross my legs and pull up the blanket. “Oh, so even Heaven judges you on what you wear?” I ask, trying to sound funny.
“Yes,” he says, clearly unimpressed with his new look. He rubs his hand over his head.
I sigh. Those hands, those fingers, and his lips. There’s a real and aching need for him to touch me again.
“Ready?”
I shake my head. “No, I’m wearing underwear and a t-shirt.”
His lips curl into a smile. “I noticed,” he says.
My cheeks heat and chew my bottom lip as I pull the blanket up further and drop my head.
“Get dressed, we need to leave.”
I nod and obey.
When I get outside the cottage, Belial’s looking up to the sky.
I look up too. “Are you worried?” I ask.
“What the hell, Lola?”
“Scared?” I say.
He turns to me. “No. And be polite when we’re up there. They’ll love you. You reek of purity. The Archangels love virgins.”
My heart races and I swallow the lump in my throat. “Oh… nice… I guess.”
He extends his hand, and I take it without hesitation. Belial wraps both arms around me and flaps his huge wings, springing us up into the sky again. By the time we’re above the clouds, it feels like it’s been over an hour. Suddenly, I’m wondering how long he can fly, and how far Heaven is.
“For how long can you fly, Belial?” I ask, my head still resting on his chest.
He splays his hand over my lower back. “Six hours,” he says.
As he continues through the clouds, I catch a glimpse of a flock of birds flying in formation. As we near them, they chirp and flutter wildly, scattering like feathers on the breeze before swarming together again. “That’s pretty exact,” I say.
“Hmm, it’s six hours. I’ve been alive long enough to know my limits.”
I look up at him, his eyes are focused only on the sky above. “So, you have limits?”
“Of course, everyone does,” he says.
I tighten my legs around his. “How far is Heaven?” I ask, changing the subject.
“It’s just ahead. You won’t see it at first. The Archangels will come. They’re the Guardians of the Kingdom of Heaven. They’ll decide if we can pass through the gates.” His hand slides up my spine until he tangles his fingers through my hair, and he pulls my head closer to his chest.
I love the way he’s holding me, and I feel safe in his arms. Though I’m slightly frustrated at his changing moods, and my own need to have him touching me, constantly. What is wrong with me? I press my own hands flat on his back. His muscles twitch at my touch. Of course, I don’t mention it, or the raised scars beneath my fingers. “Do they know you want to kill someone?” I ask.
“They will. They can read my mind, your mind, your emotions, and they can read into anything you’ve ever thought, or done.”
“Fantastic,” I say sarcastically.
“Tell me about it,” he adds. And for the first time I feel like he’s a normal gu
y. Even if I am a hundred thousand feet in the air with a demon hitman.
A warm gust of wind blows past and pushes my hair across my face. “And they’ll let you in, even if they know? They won’t try to kill you?”
Belial pulls my hair back. “They’re Archangels, Lola. An Archangel wouldn’t kill a fly. They’re all pussies. They’ll let me in. They have no choice.”
“Why?”
“You’ll see.” He slows and hovers, and still I’m not sure I see anything. “We’re here. Try to stay calm. They hate negativity.”
I nod. A thick blanket of white cloud swirls beneath us. Belial lands on it but he doesn’t let me go. Maybe I’ll fall right through. Having his body against mine is like being wrapped in a warm blanket, cocooned in the safety of his strong arms. I’m not planning on letting him go to find out, not until I’m on solid ground. Wherever that may be.
Ahead of us, two pairs of magnificent, almost luminous, white feathered wings flutter gracefully, as if they’ve appeared from nowhere. Each one is threaded with long, thick strands of silver. As the wings come closer, the bodies appear, two males, both in long white pants, like Belial. Their skin is glowing, flawless, and filled with a silver light that sparkles from their overly muscled chests, or maybe it’s coming from their hearts, I can’t quite tell.
As the delicious scent of honey fills the air, Belial’s arms tighten around me. Oh, my god. In all my life, I have never seen a male as beautiful as the two angels—Archangels— standing at least seven feet tall. They tower over Belial. Both have mesmerizing deep emerald green eyes. I am awestruck.
Their bare feet hover above the clouds as they close the gap between us. “Well, well. Do my eyes deceive me? Is this not the Great Lord of Death and Lies? Belial, to what do we owe this insurmountable pleasure?” one angel asks.
The angel turns his head to me, and extends his hand. “I am Rafael, come human. I shall take care of you.” I turn right around, still wrapped in Belial’s arms, and reach out to him. I don’t want to, but my hand has a mind of its own. Before I can touch him, Belial grabs my hand and pushes it down by my side.
Untamed: Demon Soul Page 14