by Cate Corvin
He was silent for a moment. “You know how destructive I can be. And now I have wings. Don’t you sometimes wonder if maybe you made a monster?”
For once I was relieved to see the roof of the arena below us. As soon as my feet hit obsidian, I tugged Tascius down into a hard embrace. “No, I don’t, and even if you want to call yourself a monster, you’re still my monster.”
“I could follow you anywhere,” he said in my ear. The feeling of his lip moving against my hair sent a shiver down my spine. “There is nothing stopping me from bringing the rage to the sky in a fight. We haven’t seen what I might be.”
I clasped his face in my hands, glaring into midnight blue eyes. “Do you remember what the Visionary told me? The life I want requires a leap of faith. If I’d had the Sword of Mourning made, it wouldn’t have mattered. Satan probably would’ve butchered all of us anyways- what if it didn’t work? But now we have another fighter who can take to the skies- and it took a leap of faith to make it happen. I believe this is the right way, Tascius.”
He turned his head and kissed my palm. “I wish I had your unshakeable confidence.”
“You can,” I told him. “Just believe that everything you’re doing is for the good of the people you love. We can’t control the future, but we can fight without stopping until we get to the future we want.”
I released Tascius, hoping my words would take root and instill some confidence in himself, but a flash of gold caught my eye.
Lucifer approached from the other side of the roof, his dark tattoos standing out against his golden skin and hair.
He gave Tascius a veiled look. “I need a moment with her.”
“What is it?” I stepped forward, planting my hand on his chest. There was no sign of a struggle that had happened while we were gone, and all of the Chainling guards up here seemed calm.
“Come to your room,” he said, pulling me towards the edge of the roof where my windows were. “You can come if you want, Tascius.”
We dropped down through the air and clambered into my chambers. I felt much better after flying, even if I hadn’t accomplished my goal of something concrete.
But as soon as I was in there, Lucifer whirled around and took my hands, his quicksilver eyes alight.
“I’m tired of waiting,” he said, his voice rough. “I know we can’t lock you up forever, but I at least want a way of knowing you’re fine when you’re not with me. It’s long past time that I put my own mark on you.”
The last time he’d disappeared and come back, he’d been hurt worse than usual. When I had his mark, would I be able to feel it, too?
At least that way I would know when it was my turn to shield him.
“I’m ready.” My mouth was dry with nervousness, even though I already had two marks. It was impossible not to be a little nervous each time it was brought up, given how binding they were. “I want it.”
After what had happened with Belial, there was no way I would ever break a mark again. I was absolutely sure that I wanted them on me for all eternity, or however long I had to live. And if I died fighting Satan, at least I’d die with that evidence on me.
I gazed at Tascius, an unspoken question hanging between us. He still didn’t feel that he wasn’t a monster, but there was nothing I would’ve loved more than to have my Nephilim, my very first friend, make me his, too.
Tascius gave Lucifer an opaque look, then shook his head. He backed away to the window and disappeared, flying upwards.
I winced, and Lucifer stroked his thumb over my cheek. “He’ll be ready when he’s ready, but right now, I’m happy to have you all to myself.”
He strode across the room, threw the lock on the door, and came back to wrap me in his arms. I gripped his biceps, tracing the swirls of dark ink on his skin, getting lost in the deep kiss.
I didn’t notice we’d backed up to the bed until the backs of my knees hit it. Lucifer picked me up and laid me down, clambering between my legs without breaking the kiss for a moment.
My heart started racing as he stripped off my pants and shoved his down over his hips. His cock sprang free, already hard and beaded with liquid at the tip.
He angled himself against me, and when he felt that I was already wet, pushed in hard, filling me with one stroke. I gasped, wrapping my legs around his waist and straining against the pounding of his hips.
Lucifer kissed a trail down my throat, one of his hands sliding between us to tease my clit. Between the urgent thrusting and his deft fingers, I was close to coming faster than I’d ever been in my life. His need seemed to pour into me, filling my abdomen with warmth that linked us together.
I realized it wasn’t just the feeling of him inside me. His lips were warm, hot as a brand, and they brushed over the hollow of my throat to the hard ridge of bone just beneath.
The fire grew, swirling through my skin and sinking through me. I pushed against him, riding his fingers and cock as he made the mark that would bind us together.
I gasped and arched my back, the climax mounting as his cock hardened inside me. He released himself with a gasp, kissing my throat when he came.
We collapsed into a panting pile, and I realized I felt his own satisfaction and happiness emanating through the bond between us.
I stroked the mark below my throat. “What does it look like?” I asked, still breathing raggedly.
Lucifer raised his head and kissed me, his silver eyes warm and satisfied. “A symbol close to my heart. Something that will always remind me of who I am, and who you are to me.”
A thrill of foreboding ran through me at those words, but I pushed it away. Nothing could ruin my happiness right now.
We remained tangled in each other until we couldn’t fight the clock any longer. He was supposed to be elsewhere, and I was supposed to be… hiding.
It was hard to be disappointed when I had the joy of a permanent bond between us. I’d find something to do with myself.
I got up and dressed with him, and kissed him hard before he flew out of my window.
“I’ll be back soon,” he said in my ear. “Never forget I love you.”
“How could I forget when I love you more?” I asked, giving in to the desire to be sappy for a moment.
When he was gone, I went to the mirror to see the mark that was now a part of my skin. I ran my fingers over it, examining the black cross with its low crossbar.
Even if he’d run from Heaven, I thought he still had something a little heavenly in him.
13
Melisande
The star-shaped mark Azazel had left on the nape of my neck suddenly warmed against my skin.
I reached behind my neck and stroked the mark, stopping dead in my tracks as I contemplated why this was happening.
The first time I’d ever received a mark from Belial, I hadn’t known what it was, and clearly I hadn’t accepted it. He’d told me that he’d be able to find me anywhere as long as it was on my body… which meant that maybe it worked in reverse.
Since I’d accepted the marks and the emotions that came with it, maybe that meant I could also sense where they were, and not just what they were feeling.
And what I was feeling from Azazel’s star wasn’t good. It was warm beneath my fingertips, but there was a tugging sensation in my chest, a weight of responsibility that wasn’t mine, a faint strain of anxiety.
I realized I was feeling what Azazel felt. And maybe he needed me as much as I needed to know he was okay.
Without a second thought, I headed to the window and climbed up, launching into the air. For a dizzying second, my stomach churned as I gained altitude, but it settled as I found a thermal and spread my wings, riding it towards Blackchapel.
The Circles of Dis glittered below me in their half-shadows of twilight, but I ignored the few demons I saw that glanced upwards at my passage. The closer I got to Azazel and Blackchapel, the deeper the pull was inside my chest, the stronger his feelings.
I wasn’t really happy about heading to
Blackchapel, which had been swirling with shrouded Grigori only hours ago, but if I truly belonged to Azazel, then I should be there.
I launched over the outer ring of Limbo and over the Fields of Asphodel, ripping through veils of mist and leaving them in tatters behind me. The floating stones beneath Blackchapel came into view, and I ducked around them as I climbed towards the courtyard.
But when I landed lightly on the stones, it wasn’t Azazel there to greet me.
Three tall, hooded figures stood at the entrance to the cathedral, and all of them looked up at me.
None of them looked friendly.
I braced myself and started forward, only to be stopped by one of the Grigori blocking my way with an enormous scythe. The polished silver blade gleamed like the moon, only inches away from my chest.
The Grigori drew back her hood, sending pitch-black locks of hair tumbling over the shoulders of her robes. Eyes the color of ice looked me over, and her bruise-colored lips were twisted.
“Where do you think you’re going?” she asked. She had a rough, smoky voice that might’ve sounded pleasant under any other circumstances. “This is the home of the Grigori, fallen one. You have no business here.”
“Actually, I do.” I looked up at her, willing myself not to glare. Kill them with kindness, and all. “I’m here to see Azazel.”
She looked surprised, and one of the other Grigori- a man, whose strong jaw was just visible beneath the shadowed hood- glanced at her. “What would the Lord Watcher want with you?”
He didn’t sound nearly as confrontational as the woman, but that wasn’t much of a comfort.
“I’m…” I paused, wondering how much I should tell them. If Azazel would be ashamed to claim me as his mate in front of his subordinates.
Then I realized how ridiculous a thought that was. If he was ashamed of claiming a lesser angel as his mate, then he never would’ve done it. I had every right to be here and see him.
“What?” the woman prompted.
“I’m his mate,” I said firmly. “So yes, if I’m here, then your Lord Watcher wants to see me.”
But instead of backing off, the woman threw back her head and laughed. I considered ducking under the scythe just to punch her in the tit.
The second man, who’d been silent up until now, ducked down to look at me closer. “Shut the hell up, Druzila. I don’t think she’s lying.”
“Of course I’m not lying,” I snapped. Druzila abruptly stopped laughing. Her lip curled, and she pushed the scythe forward, forcing me to back up a step or be cut.
“Why in Hell would Lord Azazel have taken you as a mate?” she asked, her tone cutting. “It makes no sense, Marduk. She’s just another one of the lessers looking for a free ride.”
Anger boiled inside my veins, threatening to explode. I had a knife on my belt that would look just as good planted in her neck, but I doubted Azazel would be very happy about me attempting to kill one of his disciples. Understanding, maybe, but not happy.
“Look at this, then.” I turned in place, keeping my arms well short of the scythe’s blade, and pulled my hair aside to expose the violet star emblazoned on the back of my neck.
Druzila’s soft intake of breath made me smile despite myself. Fuck her and her superiority complex.
I dropped my hair and turned around again, staring right into her icy eyes. “That’s the mate mark from Azazel. You can answer to him if you try to stop me from entering.”
There were many times I hated being human-born and of a much slighter build than everyone else. Druzila had a foot of height on me, and Marduk and the other Watcher at least two. She took a step forward, and then another, looking down at me like I was shit under her heel.
The scythe was so close I felt it brush against my shirt. There was a slight rasp, and the fabric parted under the razor-sharp blade.
I refused to give any ground this time.
“You expect me to believe that? I’d put money down that you went to a tattooist and had that inked on you. There is no proof that Azazel-”
“That Azazel what?” a deceptively soft but deep voice asked.
I had the temporary joy of watching all the blood drain from Druzila’s face as the other two Grigori looked over their shoulders.
Azazel stood in the doorway of Blackchapel, his hands clasped behind his back and violet eyes flickering with anger.
“I- that-” Druzila stuttered, lowering her scythe. The blade hit the stone with a sharp ting and sent up a spray of sparks, and I pushed past her, resisting the urge to give her a smug smile.
Maybe Azazel had felt my anger, being so close to me, but I was relieved he’d stepped in before my anger got the better of me and I did something stupid.
I threw my arms around his neck and rose up on my tiptoes to kiss him. He unclasped his hands and wound them around my waist, clearly not giving a damn what his Watchers thought, or the fact that they were watching at all.
“To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?” he asked once I allowed him to break away and breathe. The rage sparkling in his eyes was gone, suppressed beneath the warmth I was now accustomed to seeing from him.
There was no way I was going to mention that I’d felt his anxiety, not in front of his Grigori- especially not Druzila. “I just wanted to see you,” I hedged, dropping back down so I wasn’t clinging to him like a spider-monkey in front of other people.
Azazel kept his hand at the small of my back, but the coldness came back into his sharp features as he looked over the three Grigori.
“Melisande is, in fact, bonded to me,” he said. It always amazed me how scary he could sound just by talking quietly. The two male Grigori had lowered their heads deferentially, and Druzila was gritting her teeth, a muscle in her jaw ticking. “She is always welcome in Blackchapel. You’re not to impede her passage or interfere in any way- unless she requires help. Then I expect each of you to be there and doing everything in your power to give her that help.”
“Yes, Lord Watcher,” Marduk said, and was echoed a moment later by the other male. Druzila’s nostrils flared, but she repeated after them, her eyes glued to Azazel’s face.
My intuition told me that there was more than just a petty power trip at play. There was jealousy and rivalry in that look.
I couldn’t really blame her. Even though I’d been raring to kill Azazel the first time we’d met, a crush on him was just about inevitable. But I couldn’t bring myself to feel guilty, either.
“Typhon.”
The other male straightened up, looking Azazel in the eye. “Yes, Lord Watcher?”
Azazel guided me inside the doors of Blackchapel. “Your report is required for the Reapers. Marduk, go with him. Druzila… you remain on guard duty.”
He gave them all a cool, expressionless once-over before turning away and leading me inside.
My heart just about exploded at the sight before me. All of the Grigori I’d seen flying through the Fields were now packed into the cathedral, clustered in groups and talking quietly. Some of them held scythes; one or two were equipped with gleaming swords. All of them were hooded and cloaked, with the dark bat-like wings of demons pulled in tight against their shoulder blades.
There were so many. I was used to Blackchapel being empty, and now the room felt suffocating despite its size.
Typhon and Marduk immediately broke off towards a group of other Grigori with scythes- the Reapers, I presumed, but Azazel pulled me past them. Multiple heads turned to look at us, and I could almost feel the weight of the judgment in their stares.
“Are you sure you want to parade me through here?” I muttered, turning my head towards Azazel. “I don’t think many of them like me very much.”
He parted a group of Grigori with a wave of his hand and we walked through the corridor hand in hand. “I don’t give a damn what any of them think,” he said flatly. “I’ve been here longer than any of them and seen more than they could fathom. None have the right to judge me.”
Despite
myself, I beamed up at him. “There’s the Watcher I know and love.”
He cast me a long look, and shoved the door to the parlor open one-handed. Several Grigori immediately rose to their feet. The place was crawling with them right now.
“Out,” he commanded, and they swept out in a flurry of black robes.
I sat on one of the couches, nibbling my lower lip. “You don’t have to send them away. Some of them are going to hate me for taking you; I don’t want them to believe that I think I’m better than them.”
Azazel poured me a cup of herbal tea. “Every single Watcher in here was once my student. I know them all like the lines in my own hand. If I don’t forcibly impress on them that you’re my mate, and thus to be treated with utmost respect, some of them will take that as an invitation to push their boundaries.” His gaze darkened, almost imperceptibly. “And pushing boundaries is unacceptable once I’ve made myself clear.”
I sipped the chamomile and patted the empty spot on the chair next to me. “Sit down with me. I felt you through the bond. That’s the first time that’s ever happened so clearly.”
Azazel sat down, leaning towards me. “Is it?” His stoic expression had brightened.
“Is it because I’ve fully accepted the bond?” I asked.
He nodded, still looking more cheerful than usual. “This is how it’s supposed to work,” Azazel said, leaning in to kiss me. “Once both mates have settled into the bond, the creator of the mark should be able to feel you, and vice versa.”
I reached up to touch the mark before, which felt warm against my skin. “I felt your emotions through it,” I said, wary of listening ears. “You felt… uh, grumpy.”
He gave me a wry half-smile. “That’s one word for it.”
I let my hand fall away from the mark and touched his hand. “So tell me what’s wrong.” I lowered my voice, grateful that he’d sent the other Grigori away. “You can lean on me. Why did I feel that?”
Azazel wove his fingers through mine and tugged my hand into his lap, then took a deep and silent breath. When he spoke, he was as quiet as I was. “I struggle at times, knowing the lives of the Grigori are mine to both command and protect.” He looked up at me, searching my eyes. “I can order them into battle against Satan, even knowing that lives will be lost. A year ago, I wouldn’t have cared as much. Now…”