Ange du Mal

by Stephanie Kane

  He pulled me close. “My façade?”

  “Your prickly exterior. When you’re like this, you’re actually tolerable.”

  He rested his chin atop my head and folded his wings around me. “Tolerable. That’s an improvement from scaring you.”

  “You’re moving up in life.”

  He laughed. “I could spend all night here. It’s so zen.”

  I thought back to Rosanna’s words and noticed that his skin, though not as hot as a human’s, was still mildly warm. I absently wondered about his abs.

  “What’s on your mind?”

  I noticed his shapely biceps. “Oh. Deep, deep thoughts. The usual.”

  He traced lazy circles down my spine. “My little philosopher.”

  I toyed with one of his feathers, hoping he didn’t notice. I’d always wanted to touch them. “I’m not yours. And I hate philosophy. It’s a waste of time.”

  “All pursuits are worthwhile if you love them – ow!”

  I dropped the feather I’d plucked. “Whoops.”

  “Why did you do that, maggot?”

  “It was tempting.”

  “If that’s the case.” He slid his hand down my back and fondled my ass.

  “Sam!” I said, swatting his hand away. “The hell!’

  “But it was so tempting.”

  I blushed. “I take back my old soul comment. You’re a frat boy.”

  He grinned. “I do love keggers.”

  I rolled so my back was facing him. “Just when I thought we were having a conversation, you act like a pig. I can’t even talk to you.”

  He caught my hand in his. “Don’t say that. You can always talk to me.”

  I pulled free of his grasp. “About what? You think everything’s a joke.”

  His breath stirred the fine hairs on my neck. “I don’t think you’re a joke.” He crossed his arms around my waist, trapping me. “I take you very seriously.”

  I sighed. “What are we? I mean, do demons even go on dates? Don’t they just corrupt girls or tempt them or whatever?”

  Samael laughed. “We do what people do – some look for quick fucks, others get married. Look at Beelzebub, he’s tied to the whipping post. There’s a widely varied spectrum.”

  I turned to face him. “But what do you want from me?”

  “To see you smile.” He tweaked my nose.

  I batted his hand away. “Don’t do that. It’s annoying. Everything you do is annoying.”

  “Mmm.” He kissed my brow. “Your soul tastes like absinthe. It’s intoxicating.”

  “You lied. You are trying to seduce me.”

  “Father taught me to never lie. Too bad I never listened to Him.”

  He trailed his mouth down my jaw, to my lips. I breathed in his scent, like autumn spice. Heat sprang from my solar plexus. I knitted my arms behind his shoulders and leaned into him.

  His fingers skimmed my outer thighs. I brushed hair from his face and sucked at the hollow under his throat. He dug his fingers into my skin. Samael sought my lips with urgency.

  “Say something seductive then, if you’re going to be a lothario,” I teased.

  “I want you like Hell’s fires want water,” he said.

  I nipped his ear. “Eternal damnation. What a turn on.”

  “Shannon,” he exhaled. He eased me onto my back and set to unbuttoning my sweater. He paused at the sight of my coral bra. “I hate pink,” he said.

  I ran my hands down the muscles of his back. “It’s my favorite color.”

  “Then clearly I have bad taste in women.” He cupped my ass and ran his tongue down the rise of breast exposed by my bra. I reacted as expected.

  “You’re predatory even during hookups,” I said.

  “I could eat your soul. You’re delectable.”

  “Great. I’m in bed with a cannibal.”

  He gave a purr of laughter.

  Samael unhooked my bra and guided it off my shoulders. His mouth circled my breast’s peak. He breathed lightly on my nipple then rolled it with his tongue.

  I dug my hands into his back, electric zings shooting through my nerves. A pulse of pleasure built in my core and I ached in places that were not very polite to ache in. He lowered me onto my back and kissed a trail to my navel, then pinned my hands behind my head with his wings. It felt like I was holding feather dusters the wrong way.

  He focused on the jut of my hip bone while cupping my breasts. Samael moaned, which was almost as sexy as his grunts. He hadn’t grunted lately. Maybe he was less exasperated with me?

  He looked up, and his pupils had swallowed his eyes, sucking in light. Well that wasn’t Satanic…

  His smile was crooked. “I didn’t have dinner,” he teased, unzipping my jeans.

  “Then go get some pasta or something. I’m sure skeletons need carbs.”

  He zeroed in on my panties.

  “That kind of meal?”

  Samael slid off my pants and tossed them onto the floor. Gently, he spread my legs, then pressed his lips to my inner thigh. He nipped me.

  I knotted my hands in his wings. “You’re corny as hell.”

  He nestled his head between my legs. “I’ve been called worse.”

  He smoothed his hands over my knees and began kissing me, working his way up to my groin. Pressure built in my stomach as he mouthed my nether lips, running his tongue over the wetness flowing from my core.

  “Fuck,” I gasped.

  He groaned, then ripped off my underwear. “You taste almost as good as absinthe.”

  I jabbed him with my foot. “You’re such an alcoholic.”

  “Relax,” he grunted. Finally, he grunted again.

  He slid a finger in, then flicked his tongue over my clit. Heat seemed to run from his mouth to my skin.

  I drew in a sharp breath. “Oh God,” I said, digging my fingers into the joint of his wings.

  He stopped. “You just had to say my Father’s name, didn’t you? What a turn-off.”

  “I’ll tell you where you can take your daddy complex and shove it.”

  He grinned, then began anew.

  Samael’s tongue was serpentine, a testament to his demonic nature. The friction built and built. I shuddered as time stretched on. Aching, aching – too much. I arched my back, leaning into him.

  “Shit!” I cried out, on the verge of orgasm. He plunged his tongue into me and brought me over the edge. It was like a supernova across my vision. Like a good kind of supernova. Not one that incinerates you or whatever.

  My orgasm cleared, and I found myself spooned by Samael. He stroked my hair. “This would be so much better with my scythe,” he whispered.

  My eyes bulged. “Only if you want me to castrate you!”

  “I was joking. Jesus Christ bleeding on a cross, you’re no fun.”

  I rolled over, facing him. “Is Jesus Christ real? Like, is he the Son of God, or was he just a carpenter who heard voices?”

  “We’re all children of the gods. I can’t tell you everything, Shannon. That would violate your free will…”

  He then went into a lengthy explanation of the mechanisms of free will that I tuned out of. Samael’s erection pressed into me, hinting at further possibilities. Mostly just possibilities of getting him to shut up.

  He moaned as I reached under his robe and teased his shaft. “Are you sure? Aren’t you tired?” he asked, his eyes hooded.

  I untied his typical black robe. Why did the stupid thing have so many knots? “You’re a skeleton half the time. Jumping your bones seems like the natural next step.”

  He snorted. “You think you’re clever with your insults. I think you’re just ashamed to admit you like me.”

  I smiled. “Shut up, Sam. That was a good pun.”

  “No, it really wasn’t.”

  “At least my joke repertoire doesn’t consist of gallows humor.”

  He was about to issue a retort when I mouthed the head of his cock, mostly to get him to shut up.

  Samael suck
ed in air. I licked its head, and he razed his wings up my back. Creepy feather duster sensation again. I tried to ignore it.

  “Shannon,” he moaned, running his hands through my hair.

  I worked his shaft, licking the precum from its tip. I kneaded his ass with my hands. His breaths came hard and heavy. Finally, he grunted. Like a sexy grunt, not a caveman grunt. Was it weird to find a dude’s grunts attractive?

  “Do you have a condom?” I asked.

  His eyes simmered. “Getting pregnant by a demon is more complicated than that.”

  “Oh,” I said. “Well then.”

  He sat up, stroking my back. “Shannon, I don’t want you to feel pressured.”

  “I don’t.”

  Samael cupped my breasts and rolled his thumbs over their peaks. “In that case, it would be my pleasure.”

  He guided me onto my back and devoured my neck with kisses. Gently parting my legs, he teased my clit with the head of his cock, creating delicious friction. I gasped as he grinded against me.

  He worked himself into my core. I moaned.

  Samael pumped into me at an agonizingly slow pace. I raked my nails down his back. He cursed, picking up speed until he was going mercilessly fast, rubbing against my clit and sending electricity through my limbs. Time ground to a halt in the Cave of Souls. The candles flared, bathing us in light. I wondered if having sex in front of all these souls was exhibitionism?

  He scooped me up with his wings so that I was on his lap. My hips met his thrusts, and my guts flared. He buried his head in the crook of my neck and breathed deeply, murmuring in an old, old language. Maybe it was like Enochian?

  Tension built until it spilled out between us like pearls from a broken necklace. I shuddered, spent.

  Samael nestled me against his chest. Light snoring came from him.

  I looked down to see his eyes closed. He was firmly asleep.

  “Sam?” I said, prodding him.

  He refused to budge. “This is perfect.” He went back to snoring.

  I looked up at the roots suspended above us. “I’m not tired.”

  He placed two fingers on my brow and slipped sleep into my mind. I was knocked out within seconds.

  His words drifted across my sinking hearing:

  “I love you, maggot.”

  Chapter 19

  We bobbed in a boat fit for Charon. I stared at the claret river and reeled in my lure. “I didn’t know the Styx had fish. Isn’t it made of blood?”

  Samael removed his hook from something that looked like a bloodthirsty salmon. He tossed it into the bucket. “It has a lot of things. The Leviathan, mermaids, corpses…”

  Something bit my line. “I got one!”

  My fishing pole was tugged forward with tremendous force, sending me over the edge. I splashed into the river.

  “Great,” I said, treading water. “My clothes are ruined.”

  Samael laughed. “You’re horrible at fishing.”

  “It’s not my fault these fish take steroids,” I said. I pulled myself back into the boat. It was my third time falling in. I sat down in a puddle of my own making. “I don’t see how this is supposed to be fun.”

  Something bubbled in the water, and my fishing pole rose to the surface, attached to an angry demon. He clutched a soaked morning paper – Hell’s Herald. The demon waved the paper angrily. “I’m trying to read, Samael! How many times do I have to tell you to stop fishing in my shoal?”

  Samael cast his line again. “But Leviathan, this is where the fish bite. It’s because of all the leftovers you leave out. They’re attracted to them.”

  Leviathan dislodged my hook from his ear-fin. “This is the third time you’ve caught me. I think you’re doing it on purpose.”

  “Don’t blame me. It’s her you’re after.” Samael pointed at me.

  “Sam! You didn’t tell me this was someone’s home,” I said.

  Samael snorted. “This isn’t Leviathan’s house. He squats here. The bum doesn’t want to pay property taxes - he thinks they’re a conspiracy.”

  Leviathan’s gills flared. “Money is an illusion. Just like the skin you wear. We should live free of it, in the wild depths from which we come.” With that, Leviathan dove back into the Styx. His mermaid tail splashed me.

  Samael jigged his line. “Damn hippie.”

  I lay on my back and watched clouds drift by. “It’s Valentine’s Day, and I smell like fish. How romantic.”

  “And what experience do you have with romance, maggot?”

  “My last boyfriend. He got me flowers all the time, held the door open for me, iced my sprained ankles at track meets. Too bad that didn’t last.”

  Samael glanced at me. “What happened?”

  I shrugged. “After graduation, we grew apart. I wanted to come to college unattached.”

  Samael’s face hazed over in thought. “Lilith hated romance. She thought it was about men infantilizing women. Eve, though – she thought it was sweet. I used to garden in Eden, and I always gave her cuttings from flowers. If Adam named animals, Eve named all the plants. She loved greenery.”

  I looked up at the round disc of the sun. “Who were you with first? Lilith or Eve?”

  Samael reeled in his line and sat at the prow of the boat. “Eve. Lilith, for the longest time, was uninterested in Adam. She was in love with Eve. They would spend hours together, making up games, chasing each other through the woods. The two had their own secret language. When Eve died, Lilith turned to me. We found comfort in each other.”

  I let his sentence hang in the air. “You mean Lilith and Eve were, erm, together?”

  “Is that so shocking?”

  I shaded my face with my hands. “But I thought you and Eve were together? God, this is like a Biblical telenovela.”

  “Eve loved us in different ways, just like she loved Adam. That, I never understood.”

  “Um, my past life got around a lot.”

  Samael took off his robe and lay down in his swimming trunks. He attempted to tan. It failed miserably. I considered wearing sunglasses just to protect my eyes from the glare of his papery skin. “Don’t be embarrassed. She’s not you, not really. Her soul’s just been recycled.”

  “Lilith is really hot, but in a terrifying bird of prey way.” I blew a strand of hair from my face. “You must have been really close to Eve. Being her guardian angel and all.”

  The Reaper lowered his sunglasses. “I watched her grow up. I knew her pretty well.”

  A fish jumped beside the boat. “I don’t like it. Being someone else. It’s weird.”

  Samael yawned. “Is it?”

  I dangled my arm over the boat so my fingers skimmed the water. “Yeah.”

  Death pillowed his head on his arms. “You know, we change so much during our lives, it’s as if we’re constantly becoming different people. I’m nothing like I was when I was the Lightbringer. I don’t think you should worry about it.”

  We retired from fishing shortly thereafter. After a quick shower, I went back home despite Samael’s protests, insisting I had to study for my genetics test on Monday. It was still 7:00 PM, Friday night on Earth, and I found myself unable to sleep, having woken up only a few hours before.

  The weeks blended together, and I made headway on my spider research, producing a generation of aggressive spiders and one of docile ones. Arietta and I ran a gamut of tests on the young. In my ceramics class, at which I was miserable, I attempted to make pots and sculptures, only to end up with lumps of clay that could most generously be described as abstract. I lived for Ecology 101 and Dr. Crane’s lectures. I ran out of space in the nature journal we kept for class, so I decided to use the sketchbook Samael had given me.

  March rolled in, bringing rain, and coaxed early flowers to bloom, all of which I chronicled in the sketchbook’s silky pages. Battles with Michael stalled, and it seemed we had reached a stalemate. Samael said his twin didn’t want to risk my injury and was most likely testing me.

  “Why w
ould Michael do that? This isn’t a game,” I said, blocking Samael’s scythe with my petersword. We were on the fields behind his estate, honing my fighting skills. Though Samael’s powers were transferred to me during possession, it was more effective if I practiced.