Devilish Mate: Claimed By Lucifer Book Two

by Briggs, Elizabeth;

  “Lucifer,” I whispered. “I am yours.”

  Crying out, he pushed deep inside and stayed there as a second orgasm washed over me. I gasped out his name again as my muscles began to tighten, locking my body around him. This one came from deep within, half emotion and half release. I clutched my devil, pulling him close.

  Nothing had felt this perfect in so long. I hadn’t felt so whole in years. My heart knew him, knew he was the missing part of my soul. The missing piece that had always kept me awake at night. My other half.

  He pressed his lips at the base of my throat and trailed over my neck, while his cock twitched inside, almost like he was ready for another round.

  My body continued to pulse and spasm, and I laughed. “Enough.”

  “Never.” His tone was joking, but his eyes were serious. “There will never be enough, Hannah. Not for me.”

  18

  Hannah

  A car waited for us directly on the runway when Lucifer's private jet landed in New Orleans, and I descended the steps from the plane into the November sunshine and warmth. I paused and turned my face skyward, my angelic nature soaking up the bright light. Angels needed light to survive and to fuel our powers, while demons and Fallen needed darkness. Which was why Azazel emerged from the plane and ducked her head, donned her sunglasses, and grumbled under her breath.

  The driver stared straight ahead as we slid into the cream leather seats, and I fished in my purse for the address of the bar where I hoped to find Belial. Kassiel had given it to me earlier, with a warning that Belial might not give me the warmest welcome.

  I passed the paper over the driver's shoulder. “Drive straight here, please.”

  Zel cocked an eyebrow. "We should head to the hotel first."

  "No." I bristled, annoyed at being questioned. "We go to the bar first."

  Zel held up her hands in surrender, and I turned away from her and stared out of the window. I wasn't really upset with her, just anxious about this trip, especially now that we'd arrived. I tried to ignore my jangling nerves and focus on the New Orleans scenery—old buildings with tons of charm, colorful streetcars gliding down the road, people stopping to dance to music on the sidewalk. Any other day, this would have been incredible. But I was meeting my son, and fuck if it didn’t feel like the first time.

  I wiped my sweat-slicked palms over the side of my pants. It might have been easier if Zel had been more of a conversationalist, but when I shot a glance in her direction, she was looking out her own window, her mouth pressed into a tight line. Probably upset with me for overruling her, although that was something she'd have to get used to now. I was no longer clueless human Hannah, after all. I was her boss now.

  "Have you been to New Orleans before?" I asked.

  She dragged her gaze back to me and looked at me like I was an idiot. "Of course I have."

  Okay, so we'd probably need to have a talk about her attitude at some point.

  The limo eventually pulled over in front of a row of buildings. I hesitated, my hand on the door handle, like I was waiting for some sort of sign before I got out of the car.

  "Take our bags to the hotel, please,” I said to the driver. “We’ll walk from here."

  I got out of the car, and made sure to grab Morningstar and strap it to my back. Not that I expected to need it, but Lucifer had insisted I take it in case an Archdemon sent minions after me. I did feel more confident with it on, as I sucked in a deep breath and stared at the row of buildings on this narrow street. Many of the structures looked jammed together in a row, their second stories all displaying beautiful balconies with wrought-iron filigree designs, some with greenery cascading over the front. I spent a minute admiring the architecture, so different from anything in California or Nevada, but I had to admit to myself that I was only trying to delay.

  “Why am I nervous?" I asked, with an awkward laugh. "He’s my son.”

  She gave me a hard look. "Because he's Belial."

  That didn't make me feel any better, but I continued forward. The bar we were looking for was situated at the end of the street, in a two-story stone building with blue shutters on all the many tall windows. Big big red doors stood at the corner, and over them was a sign that read Outcast Bar, with a logo of two black wings that reminded me a lot of the painting in Lucifer's penthouse.

  “I’ll wait out here,” Zel said. “Give you some time alone with him. He and I have...issues.”

  Great. I was on my own, then.

  The bar appeared closed from the outside, but the door opened when I tried it. I stepped into the gloomy interior of the bar and looked around, giving my eyes time to adjust as I inhaled the smells of freshly waxed wood and spilled beer. It was early enough that the place was empty, with no bartender or staff in sight, giving me time to take in the rows of jewel-colored bottles against the enormous mirror and the clean glasses all hanging in their rows, ready for customers come this evening.

  “Hello, Mother," a deep voice said. "It’s been a long time.”

  I whipped my head around to see a muscular, broad-shouldered man walking out of a doorway, a wooden crate in his arms, the sleeves of his gray tee rolled up to show off his big, tattooed biceps. He had his father’s chiseled jaw and nearly-black hair, and my—Eve's—dark brown eyes and olive skin. Like all our sons, he looked a lot like Lucifer, except Belial had turned the bad boy dial up to max. The kind of man you'd expect to ride a Harley and wouldn't want to be caught alone with in an alley. But he was still my son, and my chest tightened at the sight of him.

  “How did you know who I am?” I walked forward slowly as he put the crate behind the bar and grabbed a rag, slinging it over his shoulder.

  Belial leaned back against the mirrored bar wall and crossed his arms. “I’ve seen you in different bodies hundreds of times now. I always know.”

  He gestured for me to have a seat at the bar—a casual flick of his hand toward the stool in front of him. Shock made my movements sharp as I slid onto the barstool, adjusting slightly to accommodate the sword on my back. I hadn’t expected to be recognized. I'd agonized all throughout the plane ride about how to introduce myself to him, and in the end, it didn't even matter.

  "You don't seem surprised to see me," I said, as I rested my hands awkwardly on the bar.

  He lifted a shoulder, his arms still crossed, showing off his ink. "You always come. I'm just surprised it took this long."

  "There were some...complications." I couldn't tear my eyes off my son. So handsome, so strong, and so...distant. Closed off. Even though the longing to hold him in my arms was almost a physical ache, he clearly did not want a hug from me.

  Silence stretched between us. I wasn’t sure what to say and spent a minute glancing around the bar, noticing that it was well-kept but had an older feel to it. Like something that had been around for a while. “How long have you worked here?”

  “I’ve owned this place for many years. You want a drink?"

  "Sure. Anything is fine." I doubted I'd taste it right now anyway.

  He grabbed a tumbler and poured scotch from the top shelf, then slid it in front of me. “The last time I saw you was when you were Lenore in the 1800s. I owned a different bar then. You visited me often with Kassiel when he was a kid." He smirked. "Always trying to bring the family together.”

  Not much had changed, then. I took a long swig of the generous measure of scotch. “Did it work?” I asked, even though I knew the answer.

  He poured himself a shot of something clear and downed it, his face surly. “Nope.”

  This man was definitely one of my children with that attitude, although he probably got it more from Lucifer than me. They got all their bad habits from their father. Or so I told myself.

  "What have you been doing all these years?" I asked, trying to get something out of him, even though it seemed like he had no interest in talking to me at all.

  He spread his arms wide. "Pretty much what you see right now. I own a bar. I keep my head down. I stay out
of the supernatural world."

  I perked up a little at that bit of information. "Why's that?"

  Belial let out a harsh laugh. "Because I'm the exiled prince."

  I was about to open my mouth to ask what happened, when the red doors crashed open, the wood splintering at the hinges from the force. I barely had time to duck before a huge man barreled through on black, bat-like wings.

  A gargoyle.

  “Hannah!” Watch out!” Zel’s voice rang across the bar as she followed after the gargoyle.

  Shit. Gargoyles were damn hard to kill because their skin turned to stone when they fought. Light-infused blades were one of the only things that could injure them. Good thing I'd brought Morningstar. I whipped the sword off my back and it instantly ignited with blinding white light, as if reacting to the presence of the demons. My wings spread wide, blocking Belial, my protective instincts in overdrive.

  But I needn’t have worried. Belial jumped onto the bar and shot bright blue fire from his hands, hitting the gargoyles as they poured through the door. Their stone skin cracked, the sounds like thunder echoing around the room. My mouth fell open as I watched him as he wielded hellfire—the only person with that power other than his father.

  I kicked myself out of my prideful staring and surged forward, my wings carrying me as I swung Morningstar and put all my recent training with Callan and Zel to good use. Morningstar glowed as it sliced through a gargoyle’s shoulder, and around me the chink of Zel’s weapons sounded as she fended others away. Hellfire blazed past and the air was filled with the guttural moans of injured and dying gargoyles.

  As I swung around and stabbed the blade through a gargoyle's chest, another one grabbed my wings. He yanked hard, making me yell at the sudden, sharp pain, and shadowy tentacles surrounded the gargoyle, dragging him off me and throwing him against the mirrored wall, smashing it and sending liquor bottles flying. I assumed it was Belial or Azazel, but both of them were busy fighting across the room.

  Then I realized the shadows came from me.

  I stared down at the darkness swirling around me. Impossible. I was an angel, not a Fallen.

  A woman with long black hair and black leathery wings stepped into the room, flanked by more of her kind. I recognized her as Bella aka Belphegor, Archdemon of the gargoyles.

  "That's enough fighting, children," she purred with a soft French accent. "Time to take a nap."

  She raised a hand and Zel closed her eyes and hit the floor, followed by Belial. I raised Morningstar to defend my son and my friend, but Belphegor's eyes landed on me, and I felt the pull of sleep dragging me down. I tried to fight it, rushing toward her, but my knees weakened. Two gargoyles grabbed my arms as heavy exhaustion settled over me, and I clenched my teeth as my eyes closed and I succumbed to the darkness.

  19

  Lucifer

  While Hannah took the private jet to see our son, I tried to distract myself with work at my desk in the library. I had a feeling Hannah would return disappointed, but I couldn't stop her from trying to reconnect with Belial. Even if I knew it would never work. Some things couldn't be repaired.

  I eventually gave up on getting any work done and perused my library, gazing at the vast collection of books I'd gathered over my long years, along with some paintings and artifacts. One of my favorites was the painting of Eve being tempted by Lucifer, done as a commission for me by Michelangelo back during the Renaissance.

  A few books had been piled up on one of the side tables by the armchair Hannah liked to sit in, and I picked them up and began to put them away. When I'd had this hotel built, I'd specifically requested this library be added to the penthouse, knowing how much my mate would love it once she found her way back to me. And she did. It thrilled me every time I found her in here, curled up under a blanket with a book. I'd built palaces for her once in an effort to impress her, but later realized all she truly ever wanted were gardens and libraries.

  Samael stepped into the library, his dark brows drawn together. "How was your meeting with Baal and Lilith?"

  His tone was sharper than normal, and I raised my eyebrows. "Did someone wake up with his wings in a bind again?" I sat at my desk and folded my hands upon it, feeling the old wood beneath my palms. "The meeting went well. They cannot outright help us because the other Archdemons have threatened their children, but Baal is going to act as a spy and provide us some information when he can. They've already given me the name of the Archdemon leading the rebellion—Nemesis."

  Samael shook his head. “You should’ve taken me. Or Azazel."

  I leveled a hard look at him in return. Samael wasn’t actually angry because I hadn’t taken him—or, indeed, Azazel—no matter the words he used to protest, but I waited for him to finish.

  “You know Baal can’t be trusted," he added. "How do we know he's not lying about all of this?"

  I linked my fingers behind my head and sat back. “I think we both know the real person you're upset with isn't me, or even Baal. It's Lilith." His eyes blazed again, and I bit back a grin. Some days, Samael made baiting him so easy. It was barely even a game. "After all, she has been living there for a year now. I've never known her to stay with one man for so long."

  Samael balled his hands into tight fists, his knuckles straining beneath his olive skin. "I don't care about that. The two of us were done centuries ago. But she turned Asmodeus mortal without even consulting me. My son will age and die. He's going to die, Lucifer. And there's nothing I can do to stop it."

  The pain in his voice brought back my own grief at losing a child, though I tried hard to keep it buried deep down. I rose to my feet and crossed around the desk to his side, then set my hand upon his shoulder. "I am sorry about that, old friend. It might do you some good to sit down with Lilith and talk about it. She's just as upset as you are. Or better yet, visit with Asmodeus and his mate. Then perhaps you'll understand why he made his choice."

  Samael huffed. "As if I have time for that with the impending apocalypse upon us."

  "If it even happens," I said. "Has there been any sign of Adam, or any movement from the Archdemons?"

  "Not yet, but our people are hunting for him. I've also sent Fallen soldiers to guard Pestilence's tomb."

  "Good." Pestilence would have to be released first, before any of the others could be awakened. One of our safety precautions from when we sealed the Horsemen away. The destruction that even one of them could unleash upon the world was unfathomable—all four of them would mean the end of everything. It's why I let Hannah visit Belial, even though I knew it wouldn't end well. And why Samael shouldn't wait either. "You know, if things go poorly, you might regret not taking the time to connect with your family.”

  Samael scowled and crossed his arms. "I doubt Lilith would want to see me anyway."

  I raised an eyebrow as I perched on the edge of my desk. "I wouldn't be so sure about that."

  A knock sounded on the library door and I called for the person to enter. A beautiful Fallen named Einial walked inside and bowed low before us, her long blond hair curling at the ends over her shoulders. "My lord," she murmured.

  "Ah, good," Samael said. "Lucifer, I believe you know Einial. I've chosen her for my new assistant."

  I nodded. "A fine choice."

  Einial was a few hundred years old and had been born a Fallen, unlike Samael and Azazel, who'd left Heaven with me long ago. She'd been one of Samael's spies for centuries, and was married to a sultry woman named Anig, an ancient vampire who didn’t generally bother with the rest of demon politics.

  She handed Samael a manila envelope. “The report you ordered on the comings and goings at Pestilence’s location.”

  “Excellent.” He opened the folder, while my phone dinged with an incoming message.

  I glanced at the screen. Spam. Dammit—why was the king of the underworld still getting spam? But as I flicked to delete the message, I glanced at the time.

  “Why hasn't Hannah checked in yet? She should have arrived hours ago
.” Worry seeped into my chest, and I dialed her immediately. She didn’t answer. I tried Azazel next. Nothing.

  Samael grabbed his phone after I’d tried Azazel a second time. “I’ll call the pilot.”

  Two minutes later, he set the phone down on the table and shook his head, his face creased with concern. “He hasn’t seen them, and they haven't checked into the hotel either."

  Something was wrong. The Archdemons must have gone after her. I knew it in my gut. But why now? Why not when she'd gone to visit Jophiel or Brandy?

  Belial.

  Of course.

  I turned my gaze on Samael. "Fucking hell. They're after Belial. And Hannah led them right to him."

  "I'll arrange transportation for us to head to New Orleans immediately," Samael said.

  "Wait. Why do they want Belial?" Einial asked, her brow furrowed.

  I grabbed my suit jacket, already on my way out the door. "Because he's the only one who can release Pestilence."

  20

  Hannah

  My head slammed against something, and a dull ache radiated through my skull. I tried to open my eyes, but they were slow to move, almost like they were stuck shut or pinned down. My throat ached, and I swallowed against the dryness of it, groaning a little as I did. I was in constant motion, my cheek scraping across a dusty, grit-covered surface as my body swayed. I moaned softly.

  “Mother?”

  At the sound of Belial’s voice, I tried to open my eyes again, finally peering through two narrow slits into a dim, metal-walled room. Except, no. That wasn’t right. The entire room was moving, and the low rumble of an engine vibrated through my body.

  “Hot,” I murmured. Shit, it was so dry and hot here. Like someone had left me baking in an oven. This was not New Orleans weather. Were we back in Nevada?

  “Mm.” Belial ground out his agreement.