Hot House: Dante and Hayley

by Sheri Gilmore

  Lilith, she-demon of the night, with flowing red hair and green eyes. She could make any man, or demon, hard. She dominated man and beast into submission with her creamy white body, so sensuous and sexual. Her mouth, red and full, could suck the life and very soul from a being. She was the reason humans believed in vampires. But, oh, what an erotic and ecstatic submission it could be.

  Dante closed his eyes; his cock burned.

  I will not give in to her.

  His fist crashed against the armrest, and sweat dripped down his forehead. “Can’t you go any faster?”

  The cabby’s eyes met his in the mirror, and his eyebrows were drawn into a frown. “That’ll cost you extra, Mac.”

  Dante felt his anger ignite and blend with his desire. His control slipped, and the voice he released wasn’t his, but Dis’s.

  “If I’m not there in five minutes, your bowels will hang in my refrigerator tonight for supper.” The words hissed, snarled, and growled from his throat.

  The cabby’s face paled. The cigar dropped into his lap at the same time his foot pressed the accelerator. “I-I’ll have you there in a second, mister.”

  “I thought so.” Dis smiled, then gasped. His head fell forward.

  Dante pushed through the fog to gain control again. He’d held Dis in check for hundreds of years. He wasn’t going to let him break free without a fight. This was Zeus’s plan, then, to have his inner selves fight each other over Hayley.

  Lilith. Dante shut his eyes in denial of his other half. A bead of sweat ran down his nose. No, she’s not Lilith. She’s not Beatrice. She’s Hayley, and she belongs on earth, not Hell.

  The car slid against the curb next to an old, abandoned warehouse, and Dante leaned forward with a wad of bills in hands that shook. “How much do I owe you?”

  The man shook his head, his face the color of ash. “N-Nothin’.”

  Dante nodded and stepped to the sidewalk. The car pulled away with a squeal of tires before he could shut the door. Dante’s eyebrow rose. There were a few benefits in being the “son of the dawn.” His mouth tightened against the temptation of Dis’s magick, because he knew the drawbacks were ... Hell.

  Papers and debris littered the street around him. This part of town stood remote and desolate. Abandoned warehouses lined the street, and the only people about were homeless or drug addicts, the “forgotten children of society.” His people. They lived dangerous and violent lives and usually died the same way.

  Dante turned down a side alley beside an old warehouse. A faded sign swung on one rusted chain, but he could make out the words: The River Styx. Once a vibrant club, very few knew this sector held the entrance to the underworld. At least, none who were still alive.

  He walked past a Dumpster. An old wino lay passed out in the corner against the building. His beard, long and unkempt, tangled in clothes that were tattered and faded.

  Dante squatted, his hands dangling between his knees, beside the old-timer and touched a piece of leather hanging from the bottom of an old boot. The other shoe was mismatched and covered with dirt.

  Dante shook his head at the filth the homeless were forced to live in. Who said there was no Hell on earth? He grabbed the opening of the man’s shirt and shook the sleeping form.

  “Charon.”

  Nothing, except a loud snore.

  “Charon, wake up!” The sound of Dante’s command reverberated down the alley like thunder, and the old man stirred and opened his eyes a mere slit.

  “Whatcha want?” He shifted his body and rubbed a dirt-covered hand across his nose. “Cancha leave an old man in peace?”

  Dante tapped the man on the nose to wake him up again. When the guy’s eyes opened, Dante spread both his hands in front of the filthy face. The old man’s eyes grew wide with interest, and he sat straighter.

  Dante reached behind Charon’s ear to pull out a quarter. The old man pursed his lips and rolled his gaze to the sky. “You can do better than that, oh, prince of magicians.”

  Figures. The old-timer was a shark. Dante hated to use any more of Dis’s powers, but decided a few little tricks wouldn’t hurt. He leaned forward and grasped the man’s jaw, and his mouth popped open. Dante ignored the rotted teeth and inserted his thumb and forefinger. He closed his eyes, spoke three words, and removed a coin. He held it up to the light for inspection.

  “Obolus.” The old man smiled and reached out.

  Dante pulled the ancient coin away from Charon’s reach and shook his head. “I want information first.”

  Charon’s pale blue eyes narrowed and glowed red. “Why do you bother me, chief of satans? Yours is the only gateway open since you put me out of commission. I have nothing of interest for you.”

  Dante shrugged. He didn’t want the demon to know the use of his old title had any kind of effect on him, but with each acknowledgement of his true powers, Dis grew stronger.

  “Your mark was on two humans last night. I want to know why.”

  When Charon held his answer for several seconds, Dante knew he’d come to the right source.

  “They came to the shore.” The demon shrugged. “I haven’t had much business in the past ... oh, I don’t know ... two thousand years! Why do you think I sent them to you?”

  Charon grabbed for the coin, but Dante was too quick. He jerked his hand back and grabbed the demon by the front of his shirt with the other hand. With one yank, he spun the old man against the concrete wall. Dante leaned close. The reek of whiskey on Charon’s breath made his nose twitch.

  “I think Zeus told you to send them to me.” He decided to let Dis take control enough to frighten the old man. The flame tattoos smoldered until his eyes burned.

  Charon pulled away, but Dis had him in a stranglehold. “I could stake your pagan ass out on the riverbanks of the Styx. Her waters poured into your mouth will tell me the truth. Or ...” He shoved Charon away from him. “... you can cooperate, and I’ll pay you more than one obolus.” He scratched his black nails on the front of his shirt, then studied them. The fingers of his other hand snapped, and a chest of coins appeared at Charon’s feet.

  Charon licked his lips, his beady eyes glancing from the chest to Dis and back. “You’d give an old demon a choice?”

  “Yes.” Dante’s voice sounded weak as he struggled to maintain control. He could only allow Dis out a few more seconds. If his dark nature stayed longer, his personality would grow stronger while Dante grew weaker. The chance was great, but he had to find the reason Hayley was with him. He had to send her back before Dis initiated her.

  “All right, I’ll tell you.”

  Dante grunted, and his fingernails returned to their natural color. Dis clawed his way back into their psyche, and the pain of the retreat burned into his mind. A lightheaded sensation grew, but Dante managed to nod for Charon to take the chest of coins.

  The old demon knelt and ran his hands through the silver. The shiny metal trickled through fingers gnarled and twisted from thousands of years.

  “Okay, spill.” Dante’s legs were shaky. He resisted the urge to lean against the wall. Charon could not witness his distress. He fought the nausea and knew Dis grew stronger every minute.

  “Zeus found Beatrice’s soul in the form of a girl named Hayley. He and Hades staked her out for days. Seems she has a good friend who likes to party.”

  He glanced up at Dante, an evil glint in his eye. “They convinced the friend to take the girl to the House of Purgatory. On the way, they had a ... little accident, and Hades brought them to me. My mark was to ensure they were allowed to enter even though they might not have been dead at the time. Zeus knew you’d recognize Beatrice.”

  He grinned. His yellow teeth shone in a bitter laugh. “Zeus knew Dis would find Lilith, too.” Charon stood and moved closer. “He did, didn’t he?”

  Charon circled behind him, and Dante could feel the red gaze rove his body from head to toe.

  “You’re fighting him now. He wants the girl, but you won’t let him have her.�
�

  Damn. For a wino, Charon was sharp. Dante raised his hand, and his fingernails glowed red. “Shut up, old man, or I’ll take the silver somewhere else.”

  The demon stepped back and huddled around the chest. “No, you promised it to me. I answered your question.”

  Dis would have incinerated the chest out of spite, but Dante’s empathic powers allowed him to see Charon’s need. Dante knew what hunger and banishment were. He hungered every day for the touch of another human soul, unspoiled by sin and decay. He closed his eyes and tried to remember Beatrice, but the face he saw in his mind had silky brown hair, not black. The woman he pictured had fair skin, not olive. He sighed at his mind’s image of Hayley.

  “Keep your treasure, Charon. I’ll not take it from you if you promise to keep me informed of any movement from Zeus or Hades. Deal?”

  The demon bit into a coin. Satisfied the silver was real, he nodded. Dante turned to leave. He stopped at the end of the Dumpster and spoke over his shoulder. “Dis and Lilith are gone. They died when Dante and Beatrice were born.”

  He heard Charon’s snort of laughter. “That may be, but the soul is the same, Master Demon. Your name may change -- Dis, Samael, Lucifer, Dante -- it doesn’t matter. You are who you are.”

  No!. His mind screamed, but Dante remained silent. He turned back to the entrance of the alleyway. He refused to go back to the way he had been when Lilith ruled his heart and mind. She had owned his soul. If not for her and Eve, he’d still be allowed in Eden, adorned with the most magnificent jewels in Heaven, or on earth -- still be loved by his Creator.

  His long stride carried him forward into the deserted streets of dawn. He had worked too long and hard, learning to ignore his darker side. He would not go back to the way he had been.

  The hour had grown late when he returned to the House of Purgatory. People lined the sidewalk into the entrance. Some were mere visitors who liked the heavy-metal music and goth atmosphere, but others would be entering and passing through the gate, never to return to their lives here on earth in their present forms.

  Dante pushed through a group of women. “Excuse me, ladies.”

  A tall redhead grabbed his arm. He felt her soul ebbing away as she neared the gates of Hell.

  “Hey, wanna rock?” She moved closer and rubbed her overexposed breasts against his chest while her hand groped his crotch.

  “Not in your lifetime.” Dante, jaw clenched, pried her hands from his body and pushed her back into the crowd.

  “Fuck you, asshole.” The woman turned to her girlfriends. “Can you believe that guy? Who does he think he is? God?”

  “No, baby, I’m going to fuck you.” Dante closed his eyes at the sound of Dis’s whispered threat. The evil laugh that followed echoed through Dante’s mind. He made his way to the gate and shook the heavy metal with one hand, too weak to use his powers.

  Talos silently appeared from the shadows. His bronze skin gleamed under the streetlights, and his eyes glowed red. He opened the gate wide enough to allow Dante passage. His hands hung loosely through the grill as his smile leered.

  “Did you find who you were looking for, Master?”

  “Yes.” Dante rubbed his eyes. He glanced back at the redhead, who stared with her mouth open at his easy entrance into the hottest club in town. Her surprise gave him a malignant thrill of satisfaction. Dante stumbled and grabbed the gate, while Dis took advantage to rush forward.

  “Put that one with the big mouth at the front of the line.”

  Talos raised an eyebrow in question, but nodded his obeisance. It had been a long time since the master had requested a specific partner. “Do you wish her to be sent to your quarters?”

  Dante fought for control, but Dis held him down. “Yes. I need a little oral stimulation tonight.” He smiled. “Let’s see how she and my other guest like each other.”

  Red eyes flickered, but Talos bowed his head. “As you wish.”

  Chapter Seven

  “What are these rooms, Gar?” Hayley’s hand clutched the wooden handle of a torch. When she’d asked for a light, she’d been sure Gar would come back with a flashlight. Instead, he’d handed her a stick covered with damp rags. One sniff told her the wet substance was kerosene.

  “They are the master’s ‘rooms of pleasure,’ Mistress, but it has been many years since he has used them.”

  “Oh? Why?” Her free hand trailed across the smooth rock of the tunnel. They had walked for several hours, exploring the different tunnels and caves. The intricate maze had been designed by a devious mind. Without Gar, Hayley would never find her way out.

  “Since the death of his beloved Beatrice, he has not craved the sadistic pleasures he did when Lilith ruled his heart.”

  Hayley stilled, not sure she liked the flare of jealousy she experienced at the knowledge that Dante had been in love with these other women. She shook her head. She couldn’t afford to fall in love with him. “Does he ... bring a lot of women to his apartment?”

  “Not often. Only when his sexual needs grow too strong.”

  “Oh.” Hayley bit her lip, realizing where she fell in the scope of things. Foolish, foolish girl. Men like him didn’t fall for little librarians like her. She had known she couldn’t mean anything more to him than a one-night fling, but deep down -- her throat convulsed on a swallow -- she had secretly hoped for more after offering him everything she had.

  Gar glanced behind them toward the entrance. “I think it would be wise for us to return to the master’s apartment.”

  “Why? What is Dante hiding back here?” She raised the torch higher to illuminate the end of the narrow hallway, but the shadows had no end. She frowned and turned to Gar. Her previous suspicions returned. “Does he have a stash of stolen literary gems behind these doors?”

  “I ... do not ... understand, Mistress.” Gar shook his head, and a deep frown furrowed between his eyes. “My master’s Creator stripped his gems from him when he was thrown into the pit years ago.”

  Hayley searched the giant’s face, but could see no deceit. He didn’t have a clue what she was talking about. She sighed.

  “Where did Dante get all those priceless books he keeps in his office?”

  Gar’s expression cleared. He smiled and stood straighter. “He wrote them.” His chest puffed out with pride for his master. “He used ... what do you call them?” He snapped his fingers. “Ah, yes, pen names, but they are all his works.”

  “No way.” Poor guy. He truly believed they were in Hell and Dante was not only Satan, but the author of ancient literary masterpieces. Dante had a lot to answer for, filling this simple man’s mind full of such bullshit. She had to set Gar straight. He was too sweet and trusting for his own good.

  “Gar, honey, there’s no way --”

  A scream cut her words off. There was so much pain in the sound that the hair on the back of her neck stood on end, and she dropped the torch. Blood rushed to her arms and legs and her heart pounded as the flight-or-fight instinct set in.

  “We must go, Mistress.” Gar tugged on her arm. “Now. We are too close to the outer realm of Purgatory.”

  Hayley pulled away. Someone needed help. She took a deep breath and retrieved the torch with shaking hands, then inched forward into the darkness. A clink of metal echoed off the cavern walls.

  She turned her head and stood still, squinting into the darkness. There! On the right. Hayley burst through the heavy wooden door and stopped in her tracks at what greeted her.

  A massive black forge blazed in the center of the room. The sound of iron clinked and sizzled in the heat. At that instant, the flames flew high to illuminate the rest of the room. Hayley gasped at the sight in the corner.

  The fetal mass of bruised and bloody limbs cringed ...

  “Oh, yes, Mistress Helga” ... in anticipation. The mouth twisted and opened to emit a silent cry drowned by the maniacal laugh of the dominatrix who stood above.

  With her whip in one hand, she struck the creature huddled b
eneath her, while another woman, an Amazon, prodded him with a smoldering rod of iron. Hot metal ripped and seared at the same instant the whip split through blistered skin.

  Jay, past caring what the two women chose to do to him, shook as his torture blurred into pleasure. The more brutal they were, the more pain he craved.

  The red-hot poker singed the remaining hair from his pubic bone, and his cock surged forward. The sting of the whip brought the final spasm before he shot his load into the waiting mouth of Olga.

  He couldn’t count the number of times he’d come. He didn’t care. This was Heaven and Hell rolled into one, and he wanted the tide to keep flowing until he passed out, or died, from the sheer ecstasy of what his tormentors did to him.

  Olga stepped forward and released a pin. The chains pulled his body out while the table rolled until he hung upside down; his face fell even with Helga’s pussy. She moved closer and spread her legs.

  “Now, lick me, slave.”

  “Yes, Mistress.”

  Jay searched her soft folds with his tongue until he found her clit. He bit hard, knowing that, like him, she craved the pain.

  “Harder.” She thrust her hips forward against his mouth. “Harder.”

  From behind them, Olga whimpered with need. She moved forward and rocked her pelvis against Helga’s ass cheeks, her breathing coming in short bursts. Her hands and fingers latched onto Helga’s upper thighs. Their momentum drove Helga’s cunt against Jay’s tongue. Within seconds, both women screamed their orgasm, and the rush of Helga’s juices flowed into his eager mouth.

  Olga fell splay-legged to the floor, her fingers tapping her clit, and Helga squatted to kiss Jay full on the mouth. Their tongues entangled with the taste of her pussy, but she pulled free. Jay groaned his disappointment.

  “You pleased me, slave.” She kissed his lips again before she stood. “For that, you get a reward.”

  Her lips closed over his dick. Jay sighed with the feel of the warm suction against his skin. Helga’s small fingers closed over his sac and pulled with the same momentum her mouth used. The other hand smoothed his thigh from knee to ass. She pinched his ass-cheek and traced the indentation between with feathered caresses.