Deepening our kiss, the Devil snuffed out the spark of remorse trying to kindle a flame within me. Splitting his focus, Apollyon struck the perfect balance between feeding and tending to my needs. It shouldn’t have felt so good, left me wanting more, but it did. I should have felt bad for what I’d done, for what I was doing, but I didn’t. In that moment, high on the ecstasy Apollyon made me feel not just sexually but emotionally through his acceptance, I would have consumed every soul within my reach and fed them to him.
Apollyon slowed the soul transfer to a trickle and relaxed his grip. The Devil smiled before completely breaking our kiss. He pulled back, leaving a small piece of Thomas still inside me. Sliding a hand between us, he undid his pants and attempted to work his way out of them. Wanting exactly the same thing, to feel more of him against me, in me, as he finished feeding, I helped him the rest of the way.
Tearing my panties away, he rolled me onto my back. I gripped the sheets as he filled me, my back arching with the first rock of his hips. Throwing an arm around his neck, I pulled myself up, forcing him to hold me and reposition himself on his knees. As I’d hoped, the position gave Apollyon as much pleasure as it did me. Pressing my lips against his, I kissed him, nipping his bottom lip, tracing his mouth with my tongue. When he kissed me back, slid his tongue into my mouth, I opened the connection and started to feed him what remained of Thomas’s essence, but Apollyon refused. Breaking the connection and our kiss, he pulled back.
“That last bit stays with you, darling. I can’t have you running around starved and half crazed with need. There’s no sustenance for you down here, and given your penchant for mixing sexual desire with the need to feed, I don’t want you snacking on the horde. It wouldn’t be fair. They’re not accustomed to someone as irresistible as you running around down here, and I don’t share.” Apollyon kissed me, nipping my lip hard enough to draw blood before pulling away again. “There’d be riots, bloodshed, and I can’t afford to lose anyone right now. Especially you.”
So many questions swirled in my mind, fighting for position to be asked first. When will I be ready? Feed from what?
“All in good time, Jacqueline. I can almost see your mind working to figure it all out.” Apollyon ran a thumb across my furrowed brow, smoothing the crease that always formed when I thought too long or too hard about something. “I have nothing on my itinerary but you until tomorrow, and I intend to make the most of every second we have together.” One side of his mouth crooked up in a wickedly handsome smile.
Once again, the Devil was true to his word.
* * * * *
I woke the next morning alone, sore in place I didn’t even know could be sore, dehydrated and in need of something to eat other than a person’s soul. I dragged myself out of the ridiculously comfortable bed and scoured Apollyon’s room for any sign of my clothes. After a fruitless search – one torn bra and shredded panties still counts as fruitless – I noticed a garment bag hanging from the back of the bedroom door. Unzipping the bag, I couldn’t hold back the laughter as I examined its contents.
The Devil had impeccable taste, but I’d have much preferred a pair of broken-in jeans, t-shirt and Docs. Left with no other wardrobe options, I pulled the supple black leather pants and top from the bag and laid them out on the bed. The bag gave up nothing else besides a small white envelope and a pair of barely there underwear. More lace than anything else, they were impractical for daywear and looked like they’d chafe under the leather pants. I’d have to figure out a way to return the favor to Apollyon later.
I opened the envelope and unfolded the note tucked inside.
The lace is for later.
A.
Smiling, I felt around the bottom of the garment bag again and found a pair of seamless satin panties I’d missed the first time around. The leather pants slid on easier than I’d expected and the matching tank top, made of the same soft leather, fit more like a bodice, holding everything in place better than my best sports bra. I looked and felt the part, like the bad-ass Elioud I was. Like I belonged.
Exactly what Apollyon had intended.
Chapter Twenty
A knock sounded at the door, interrupting my search for a pair of shoes to complete the ensemble Apollyon had left for me. Reaching for the knob, I noticed the tattoo on my forearm had begun to fade. Turning my other hand over, I checked the brand the Devil had given me the first time I’d agreed to let him into my mind. As expected, the brand was more pronounced than it had been before. One side released their claim over me as another staked it.
I should have been upset. Staring down at the faded lines, barely able to make out the sword’s cross-like shape, I struggled to find a reason to be; to remember why I’d wanted to be a demon hunter in the first place, why I’d denied my lineage for so long. With the acceptance of what I was, the resurgence of my Elioud blood, my allegiance had shifted. The brand seemed proof enough.
Something stirred within me, something close to the regret I didn’t feel. Thomas. Or what was left of him.
The knock came again, drawing my thoughts away from Thomas’s lingering emotions and the question of why I could feel them in the first place to whoever was outside my door.
“For you.” By way of greeting, Dumah held out a pair of black combat boots. “My Lord asked that these be delivered to you.” My father all but beamed with pride when he looked at me.
He knew what I’d done. All of it. He didn’t have to say anything; it was written all over his face. He was already a high ranking general in Apollyon’s army – what would it mean for his daughter to be the Devil’s new favorite plaything? A raise? A promotion? Something nagged at the back of my mind, a thought that I was worth more than that. I was more than a bargaining chip for personal gain, but this was my world now. The rules were different and I needed to learn them if I wanted to survive. And fast.
“Are you all right, daughter?” Dumah looked pained, obviously struggling with the feeling of concern. I doubted it was one he felt very often.
“I’m fine.” Plastering a smile on my face, I put a pin in my thoughts to come back to and tried to squash what remained of Thomas’s emotions. Something told me he was the reason I was questioning anything about my new surroundings and alliance. “Just hungry.” My stomach grumbled its agreement.
“Yes, I imagine you worked up quite an appetite.”
Dumah and I winced in a mirrored expression. Even in Hell, some moments between a father and daughter are awkward.
“May I walk with you on your way to the dining hall?” Dumah cleared his throat, shifting nervously from foot to foot like he expected me to reject his invitation. “Or I can have something brought to you if you prefer.”
“Let me just throw these on.” Taking the boots from him, I offered a reassuring smile and accepted his offer to escort me to breakfast. “You want to wait in here while I finish getting ready?”
“I’ll wait in the hall, thank you. None are permitted in his private chambers.” Dumah stood in an at-ease position, arms behind his back with feet apart, just outside the door while he waited.
Lacing up my boots, I looked around the room. His private chambers. How many had there been before me? How many Elioud women had he brought here to feed him? A twang of jealousy hit me before I remembered that Thomas had said Apollyon desired me above all others. Warmth spread through my middle as I recalled exactly how much he desired me. It felt good to be wanted so much, despite what I was. No, not despite it, that was wrong. Because of it.
The warmth quickly changed to a burning. Thomas. Ignoring the irritating sensation storing the angel’s essence caused, I tied my laces and informed my father I was ready. Apollyon and I were going to have to find another food source. Keeping Thomas inside for any length of time wasn’t an option. Not if he wanted me to keep my sanity. I had a feeling the angel was going to drive me nuts.
Dumah barely said a word as we walked the halls together. An occasional sideways glance was the only indication that he wa
s still aware I was with him. I’m not sure what I expected – a deep father-daughter chat? My father had been a man of few words since he’d thrust me through the portal beneath the Basilica. I don’t know why I would have expected things to change, or what I would have expected to happen if they did. We continued to walk in silence, stopping just outside the cafeteria.
“I’ll leave you here.” He looked at me like he wanted to say more; like he did every time he saw me but then never did. “Avoid the tenderloin. Trust me.”
“What?” Stopping just inside the entrance to the dining hall, I turned back with a puzzled look on my face. “Tenderloin? Why?” I didn’t bother to hide the trepidation I felt. Perhaps I should have ordered in after all.
“In fact, you might want to avoid meat altogether.” Dumah paused, obviously contemplating whether there were any other culinary warnings he needed to issue. “Avoid anything slathered in sauce or gravy. It’s best if you stick to food you recognize. Fruits and vegetables. Though we don’t have a wide selection down here. I’ll arrange for something more to your tastes to be added to the menu.” With a nod, he excused himself and left me to decipher the buffet alone.
Conversation died down, forks and knives clanked against plates as one member of the horde after another stopped to catch a glimpse of the infamous Jacqueline Lillith Rhoades – former demon hunter, last of the female Elioud, and Devil’s concubine. I hoped I didn’t disappoint.
There were a few familiar faces in the crowd, two of the demons who had posed as troubled teens attacking a homeless man topside in an alley back in Baltimore. Still wearing my rose-colored glasses and thinking I could save my soul and everyone else’s, I’d rushed in to help the old man only to find out they were all demons. They’d sprung their little trap but I’d managed to banish a couple of them before it was all over.
Good times.
The demons eyed me warily, some angrily, as I made my way through the room toward whatever delicacies lay beneath the glass sneeze guard. Not that I blamed them. If the roles were reversed and I found the person who was supposed to be my enemy on my turf, I’d be pretty pissed off too.
Relieved that death stares and maniacal grimaces were all I’d been greeted with thus far, I strolled the buffet until I found something I recognized. Pomegranate. At least I hoped it was pomegranate. The small, gem-like seeds floated in a bath of deep red. When I lifted the ladle, the juice dripped off the slotted spoon like blood. The longer I looked at the container, the more it looked like something from a crime scene. I passed on the pomegranates and searched for something that looked a little bit less like death.
I reached the end of the food line with only a few slices of cantaloupe, pineapple and a banana on my plate. Heeding my father’s advice, I avoided anything swimming in sauce. Which was pretty much everything. And the so-called tenderloin at the carving station? Yeah, I would have avoided that one all on my own. Room service was definitely the better option. I wondered if I could get a burger sent to my room. Setting my plate down on an empty table in the back, I wondered if I’d eat it even if Dumah managed to get the kitchen to make one.
I’d barely stabbed the first piece of melon on my plate when a chair scraped the floor as something or someone scooted out from their table. With a sigh, I pushed my plate forward, bit the cantaloupe off the fork and palmed the utensil. If my instincts were right, things were about to get ugly.
I really hate being right.
The seven-foot monstrosity lumbering toward me looked vaguely familiar. He moved with a determination that said he definitely remembered me and our encounter hadn’t left him with the warm fuzzies. Whenever our paths had crossed, it couldn’t have been when he was in his true form, because even in my most daring moments I would have hauled ass from the demon hulk headed my way.
Given my new status, running wasn’t an option.
Recalling every banishment spell and exorcism passage in my arsenal, I deemed them all useless considering my locale. You can’t banish a demon from Purgatory. At least I didn’t think you could. And a face to face with a leathery beast outfitted with a set of claws that could give Wolverine a run for his money and biceps bigger than my thighs was not the time to find out.
Armed with nothing more than my fork and the skills I’d acquired on the streets and in the gym under the tutelage of the Angel Joseph, I got up from my chair and stood my ground. If I backed down from one demon, I’d be fighting them off every time I stepped foot out of my room. I had no intention of being locked away. Not even for my own safety.
“Bet you never thought we’d cross paths again after you banished me. And yet here you are. Suited up in your leather outfit like you belong down here. But you don’t belong, bitch. You don’t belong anywhere.” Demon Hulk’s bifurcated tongue flicked out, slithering across his lower lip.
Ignoring his pitiful attempt to piss me off and make me lose focus, I gave a little wink and gestured him forward. He’d have to try a lot harder if he wanted to hurt my feelings. Being a social outcast was something I was more than a little familiar with.
The demon lunged, making a grab for me. Smaller and lighter on my feet, I slipped out of reach. He came at me again, swinging fists the size of my head. If one connected, it was lights out. Hopping up onto the table, I jabbed the fork in his trapezius muscle and used it to hurl myself around onto his back. With a deep howl that sent a tremor through my entire body, he turned and stumbled back into the wall. With a thud, I hit the drywall hard enough to leave an impression and knock some of the wind out of me.
With a hard tug, I yanked the fork free. Arm poised over my head, ready to stab him again, I cried out when bone spikes protruded from his back. One grazed my left hip nearly to the bone, while another gored me on the right side. From the feel of it, four more lined his back. Unwrapping my legs from his sides, I used two of the spikes for leverage to keep my own weight from tearing the wound open further. Leaning back, the demon used his body weight to drive the bone deeper. I should have paid more attention in biology, or actually gone to biology class. I had no clue if he’d hit anything vital, just that it hurt like a motherfucker. Blood poured from the hole in my side, splattering on the linoleum floor. I knew I’d lost a lot of blood when it made me giddy that someone this side of Hell had chosen linoleum floors when designing the dining hall for the citadel.
Demon Hulk ground into the wall again. Near vomiting from the level of pain, I needed to do something or I was going to pass out from blood loss still stuck to the demon’s back. My arms felt a little like limp noodles and I’d lost some sensation in my fingertips, but I managed to drive that fork into his temple. Encouraged by his grunts of pain, I pulled it out and drove it home again, this time hitting his eye. That sent the demon staggering forward. Without his weight pressed against me, I could breathe a little more easily and the bloodflow from being gored slowed enough that the black spots in my peripheral vision receded.
Or maybe my increased ability to heal had finally kicked in.
The prospect of my flesh knitting itself back together around the bone spike protruding from Demon Hulk’s back was all the motivation I needed. Tugging the fork free, I stabbed again and again until on the last pull I took his eye out. Pierced on the end of my fork, the demon’s eye came free of its socket with a wet, sucking pop. He dropped to his knees, taking me for the ride, and let out an ear-piercing howl. Large, meaty arms swung around, trying to grab hold of me and pull me off his back. Before he got hold of me, I hopped off, making sure to stay out of is good eye’s line of sight. With a swift kick to the ribs, I knocked him to the floor, waiting for the next demon to make its move.
Like a bad action movie, the demons rose from their seats, ready to jump in one by one for a piece of the bitch that had sent them packing when they were topside. Dropping the fork, I smirked as I heard the hulk scramble to pick it up and save the eye still pierced on the end of the tines. Ignoring the pain in my side and hip, I moved with cool determination toward the buffet li
ne. A lesser demon looking to move up in the ranks stepped out and took a swing. Blocking the move, I countered, landing a hard blow to the side of his head. He dropped like a sack of potatoes. The move tore at the wounds on my hip and side that were knitting back together. Doing my best to hide the pain, I tried not to show any weakness to the rest of the horde. Most were still deciding whether or not to jump in.
Dragging my left hand along the sneeze guard, the squeak of flesh pressed against glass filling the silence, I slapped my right hand down when I reached the stainless steel cups containing the silverware. Without a word, or so much as a glance over my shoulder, I meticulously pulled a knife from the first canister. Several chairs scraped the floor, followed by the sound of several demons fleeing the dining hall. When I reached for a fork, slowly pulling it from the next container, more demons fled the room.
Turning around, I scanned the room, taking stock of who remained. Demon Hulk was still curled on the floor. Not a threat, for the moment. Three remained. Varying in size, shape and hell only knew what abilities. The odds weren’t in my favor. Not that that had ever stopped me before.
Rolling my head from side to side, I cracked my neck and dropped into a fighting stance. Waving the knife, I egged the demons into attacking me first. With three on one, I figured my best chance was on defense; let them come to me and counter accordingly. They moved in unison, semi-circle formation. Stepping to the side, I moved away from the buffet line so nothing was at my back and I had room to maneuver.
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