by Cate Corvin
“I’m sure he’d disagree,” I muttered, and she shot me a glare as she braided my hair.
“See? There’s the bad attitude I’m talking about. But I can say with absolute certainty that I haven’t seen him in this shit of a mood since the last time he had a battle go badly. You’re his battlefield right now, but this is one he doesn’t know how to siege.”
I raised an eyebrow as she draped a chain of silver and amethyst over the crown of my head. “He can take his siege and shove it up his-”
“You’re both furious. You worked well together.” She dabbed glitter on my eyelids. “I’m a succubus, so I’m sensitive to these things. I felt the sexual tension from miles away.”
The last thing I wanted to admit was the odd emptiness I’d felt in my chest since Belial’s brand had vanished from my palm. She’d just push harder. “I’m not apologizing until he frees Tascius or trades him to me.”
“Why would he? You tricked him with that bet.”
I glared at her in the mirror. “So I was supposed to be happy with being a captive for the rest of my life? I was never going to win against Yraceli in a fair fight.”
Vyra walked to the wardrobe and yanked it open, whipping out a glittering black dress just this side of sheer. She shook it out, her lips pressed flat. “I’m not saying that. I’m saying maybe you could’ve put a little more trust in him.”
I re-dressed myself in the glittery number she’d provided and let her lace up the back. “You know I value your thoughts, Vyra, but asking me to put blind trust in the demon who soul-bound me is asking a little much.”
She fastened a necklace around my throat, a line appearing between her brows. “Soul-bound?”
I clenched the palm that was now unmarked. Even my hand felt empty these days. “He branded me.”
“Melisande, that’s not…” She broke off as a Chainling opened the door, a hooded face popping around the side.
“Your horse is ready, Lady Wrath.”
“Thank you. Let’s go, Vyra. I can’t promise I’ll apologize, but I think I can manage to sit twenty feet away from him without throwing a knife at his head.”
She hadn’t stopped frowning, but trailed after me to the stables, where the Chainlings had led Capheira out beneath the twilight sky. I stroked her soft muzzle, pain piercing my chest. I’d been so happy when Belial had given her to me…
Maybe if he’d offered me freedom to begin with, I wouldn’t have been forced into thievery and tricks.
This distance was his fault.
Tascius sliced upwards, cutting off the Daeva’s cock. The spiny appendage went flying across the arena and landed at Belial’s feet with a wet slap.
I gritted my teeth, digging my nails into the raven feathers on my throne’s arms.
There was nothing I wanted more than to go to him, to take up a sword and help him bring the Daeva demon to its knees.
The thing looked down at its mutilated penis, which was already healing over, and a wide smile stretched across its lips. Thorny hands shot out to wrap around Tascius’s throat.
My muscles quivered. There was a sword right there. All I had to do was grab it and jump down.
But Belial was watching me with a hawk’s intent gaze, looking for any sign of weakness.
I forced myself to lean back on my throne, nonchalantly watching the Daeva strangle my Nephilim mate. Tascius planted a boot in its gut and kicked hard, breaking out of its grasp.
The Daeva didn’t get another chance to recover before he punched a hole right through its throat with his dagger. The demon slouched over, gushing greenish blood all over the arena floor.
“Another one down.” Belial clapped loudly, the sound lost under the roar of his spectators. “How much longer can Exile last?”
Tascius rose, swiping his arm across his forehead. Sweat gleamed over the broad planes of his chest and abs.
A chest and abs I hadn’t touched in a week. I knew he’d keep fighting until he was sliced to ribbons just to be near me.
I shouldn’t have come tonight.
But now that Tascius was on the arena floor, so close but so far away, I was too weak to leave, to waste the few hours I had to just look at him, even though the creatures Belial brought out were growing successively worse.
Tascius refused to lose a single round, and Belial knew that as long as he was there, I was there. It was a three-way battle of wills and exhausting to the bone.
I sat up straight, refusing to look away. Tascius deserved my full support.
“He can outlast anything you throw at him, Prince,” I shouted across the arena.
Belial’s aquamarine eyes, glittering with banked anger, flashed at me. “Your confidence in him is unshakeable, Lady.” The subtext was clear and cutting: unlike your confidence in me.
I’d fucked up something fierce when I’d made my bet with Belial.
Demons were twisted creatures.
I’d asked for my freedom and half of the Seventh Circle. With Tascius claimed as my mate, I’d mistakenly assumed that included him.
Of course, after I’d stolen from Belial and thrown every kindness he’d done for me back in his face, I should’ve known he would exploit every possible loophole to make my victory sting.
“And he deserves every drop of it.” I smiled at Belial, showing my teeth. Unlike you.
Belial leaned back on his throne, the bones creaking as they shifted under his weight. He looked more delectable than ever, his shirt unbuttoned to show off his sculpted chest, sleeves rolled up around his forearms. “It’s a shame he doesn’t have your cunning.” He’ll never be free.
“I wouldn’t underestimate him.” Fucking try us.
Belial swiped his thumb across his lip, as though he wanted to smile and was holding it back.
God, but I wanted to cross the arena now and beg for his good graces. I hadn’t stolen the knife to stab him in the back with it.
Was my freedom too much to ask for?
But as long as he held Tascius over my head… he was an enemy.
Vyra’s eyes darted between us, and most of the demons in the stands within earshot were leaning in, practically panting to see a fight between the Prince and Lady of Wrath.
I wouldn’t oblige, no matter how much Belial pissed me off. I knew all too well how I responded to close proximity with the delicious warlord of Hell’s armies.
It was safe to say my skill in battle wouldn’t be my weakness.
“Exile is the last one I’d underestimate, Lady.” Belial dragged a hand through dark hair, smirking when my eyes fixed on the movement and remained there. “What should I throw at him next? I want to make sure you’re entertained.”
You could entertain me by giving him his seventh round.
The words remained unspoken. Belial had yet to replace Yraceli, which meant the seventh round was now Belial himself.
Despite my confidence in Tascius, not even he could defeat the Prince of Wrath in his own element. The demon was nearly untouchable.
Judging by Belial’s cruel smile, he knew exactly what I was thinking.
I forced my gaze back to Tascius, who’d drifted nearly to the stairs of my dais. Midnight-hued eyes looked up at me, full of steel and resolve.
Tascius would make it out. I knew he would.
But right now, with a whole week stretching between us, the sight of my feather tied into his braid… I couldn’t stay away.
I rose in a sudden movement and strode down the stairs, taking Tascius’s face in my hands. The feeling of his skin against my fingertips after a week apart was like electricity, bolstering me against Belial’s most narrow-eyed glare.
“I miss you,” I breathed, leaning in close to press my forehead against his. “I will win you from him, no matter what.”
“Don’t trade yourself away.” His voice was a low growl, hands clenching at his sides. “Don’t do anything he might find a loophole for.”
Although Tascius was devoted to Belial after the prince had given him a h
ome, his patience clearly had limits, too. Fury flashed in his eyes, washing away all traces of the sorrow the Nephilim carried on his shoulders.
“Just keep winning. I’ll find a way to free you.”
Tascius shook his head, closing his eyes briefly. His dark lashes stood out starkly against his skin. “I’m done throwing the fights.”
Relief coursed through me, but Belial interrupted with a shout to the arena. “Bring in Lady Savage!”
The crimson demon strolled onto the arena floor, twirling her knives with a big smile.
I bit back a growl of frustration, and kissed Tascius hard enough to hurt. “Do what you have to do.” I touched my feather. “I chose you.”
Belial leaned on the arms of his throne, looking bored to all outwards appearances, but his smile was brittle. “We’re ready whenever the touching reunion is over. These fine demons came for blood sport, not your relationship drama.”
Half the arena screamed in agreement.
I was going to wear my teeth into stubs as much as I was grinding them these days. I kissed Tascius once again, and he gasped against my lips, but not with pleasure.
It was with pain. Lady Savage had scored him across the back with her blade, striking out while he was distracted.
While I’d distracted him. Guilt bit with sharp teeth. I was going to slash that pretty smile right off her face the next time I caught her in a dark alley.
I released him and he whirled with brutal savagery, blood spraying across the hem of my gown. I’d barely sat down on my throne before Tascius was pushing Lady Savage back, the female demon’s confident smirk fading in the face of his fury.
I dared pull my eyes from Tascius long enough to cast a baleful glare at Belial. I hope you’re happy, I mouthed, clenching the arms of my throne with white-knuckled hands.
Belial’s look was just as dark. Never happy without you, angel.
It was an arrow straight to the chest, turning my lungs into lead-filled balloons.
I could say I was sorry. I could staunch the bleeding wound between us, fill the empty void that opened like a black hole in my heart every time I saw Belial.
It ate at me now, its consuming darkness creeping through me, wearing away the edges of everything that made me Melisande.
Whatever it was, I hated it.
And I hated being so close to both Tascius and Belial, and somehow still a world away from each of them.
My Nephilim was beating the piss out of her even now, but Lady Savage’s daggers opened deep wounds on his arms and chest. I set my jaw, accounting for every drop of blood she spilled from him.
One day, I would collect on that account. She wouldn’t enjoy it.
The fight ended when he struck her under the chin, knocking her out cold in a pool of her own blood. Several Overseers herded Tascius out of the arena through the far gate by Belial’s throne, driving him with spears. The Nephilim darkness had taken over his eyes.
And there was nothing I could do to help him the way I’d promised I would. I gripped the arms of my chair, poised at the edge of my seat, every muscle taut.
Belial raised his chin, gazing at me. Waiting for me to go after him and encroach on his territory, where I’d be the trespasser and once again subject to his law.
Where he could take me to his bedroom and do everything he wanted with lips and teeth and tongue until I was on my knees begging for forgiveness.
I could’ve apologized now, had both of them back in my arms.
Instead, I rose and strode down the steps of my dais. Belial tensed, and I forced myself to walk right past him without looking at him and through the arena doors.
The demons hadn’t named me their Lady of Wrath for nothing.
3
Melisande
“Well, at least you didn’t throw a knife at his head.”
I paced my chambers back and forth, stopping at one end, whirling around, and repeating my steps. If I kept this up, I was going to wear a path in the obsidian. “He holds Tascius over my head like bait on a stick. He knows what he’s doing.”
Vyra lounged on my bed, sorting through one of a thousand boxes of nail polish. Her collection was truly breathtaking. “Of course he does. He’s been around for millennia, he didn’t get to be where he is by taking it easy on people.”
“It’s bullshit.” I stopped by an open window and looked out in the garden, expelling a harsh breath.
I’d won so much, and yet my half of the kingdom felt empty.
But there was small comfort in what I had. My garden, tended by several silent Chainlings, was slowly being pruned back into some semblance of order. Several stands of tall flowers that hung like small glowing bells filled the air with a jasmine-like scent under my windows. The twisting willow lorded over all, twinkling lights glowing and dying in its branches.
It was beautiful. I pressed a hand to my chest, scowling at all that beauty.
The ache hadn’t stopped. It’d only gotten worse the further I’d ridden from Belial.
“You could just say sorry,” Vyra sang, holding up a bottle of sapphire polish.
I snorted. “Right. ‘Belial, I’m so sorry I was desperate to escape your captivity. The fault is all mine’.”
“How about, ‘Belial, I’m sorry I stole your priceless knife and made a bet under false pretenses after everything you did to keep me alive’?” Vyra countered.
“Hmm. I think I’d prefer ‘Belial, I’m sorry you’re such a raging asshole that you feel the need to keep my mate away from me because you didn’t expect me to actually think for myself’.”
Vyra groaned and dropped her head face-first onto my bed, looking up a second later. “Why do you have to be so stubborn? Our ways aren’t Heaven’s ways, Melisande. He did what he thought was best.”
“But why?” I tore my eyes from the garden and spun around. “The only thing in it for him was getting a new player for his blood sports. He’s just upset because he doesn’t have the draw of a fallen angel in his arena anymore.”
I knew I was lying even while I said it. Maybe Belial had first seen me as a good business move.
But it hadn’t stayed that way for long, and I knew that perfectly well.
We were too well-matched to keep the fire between us from sparking.
Vyra chewed her lower lip, for once not meeting my eyes. “He kept you safe. And that’s more than you could ask from most of the princes. If the Prince of Treachery had found you first, you’d be living in the Pit now. Belial defied Satan himself to keep you.”
I sighed and finally sat down, collapsing on the bed next to her. She was right. Belial might infuriate me, and maybe he had seen me as an investment at first, but he, Azazel, and Lucifer had all put themselves on the line.
Now that Satan knew my name and face, there was nowhere in Hell I could go that he wouldn’t find me. Maybe having two princes and a Watcher could keep me safe for a while, but I knew the day of reckoning would soon come.
And before it did, I needed to possess the Sword of Light.
Vyra dumped her nail polish back in the box with a clatter, packing it up and kissing the top of my head when I flopped back on the covers.
“I know you’re upset now, but you’ll see.”
I closed my eyes, listening to the door open and close, wondering if I was the one being too stubborn when I could just say two simple words and fix everything.
Maybe.
God knew I wasn’t very forgiving, and with my luck, Belial was just as stubborn as me.
At least there was one thing I could do while I worked on swallowing my pride. If I wanted to steal the Sword of Light, I was going to need back-up.
The idea of trusting either of them with my secret sent a wash of coldness through me, raising goosebumps on my arms. I trusted Tascius implicitly, but Lucifer and Azazel…
I had no choice. They were my only allies now that the Prince of Wrath and I were on the outs.
I forced myself off the bed and started unlacing the ribbons
of my dress, peeling the straps over my shoulders. No more moping. I’d change into something more suitable for flight and go straight to Blackchapel, and ask Azazel why the hell he hadn’t been around-
A glimmering wind spilled in through my open windows. I snatched my dress back up to cover my breasts as a cloud of stars filled my room, materializing into a familiar shape.
Azazel ran his fingers over his lapels, the silver raven skulls catching the light. “Melisande.”
“Azazel.”
I just stared at him like an idiot, licking my lips to wet them. It’d been a full week since I’d seen any of them. Maybe they were giving me space to settle into my new home.
It’d been a little too much space, in my humble opinion.
“How am I supposed to call you when I need you?” I asked, keeping my arms firmly over my chest. The urge to throw them around the Watcher was almost irresistible.
Even with Vyra living with me, I’d been feeling… lonely.
The notion startled me. I’d been trained to deal with isolation. Gabriel had once kept us in locked cells no larger than three feet by three feet for a month, with guards under strict instruction not to speak to us when they brought food.
When I’d emerged from the cell, I’d been sure that loneliness would never touch me again. If I could survive a month in that box with nothing but my thoughts for company, a week on the Nightside without them should’ve been a piece of cake.
But now Azazel was staring at me, just as frozen as I was. His gaze flicked over my bare shoulders, the sheer silk just covering all the important bits, and the hungry something inside him rose to the surface.
“I can think of one way,” he said, his violet eyes flashing. The baritone of his voice had become a throaty rumble. “Would you like to be branded again?”
I nearly flinched away. “Keep your brands to yourself.” Then a horrendous thought occurred to me.