Hell to Pay: A Paranormal Reverse Harem Romance (Razing Hell Book 2)

by Cate Corvin

  “By obeying its hunger? No. Satan already has a grasp on me. I’d prefer not to let him have what he wants.”

  I licked my lips, carefully thinking through my next words. “Maybe you haven’t fed it the right things.”

  Azazel’s eyes narrowed as he gazed at me. “What are you suggesting?” His tone was dangerous, clipped and sharp.

  I was about to venture into dangerous territory. Strange territory.

  The kind there was no coming back from.

  And maybe he would trust me more, if he knew what I was willing to do for them. They’d saved me from curling up and dying, brought down by my circumstances.

  Maybe I could save him from himself.

  “The mark you spoke of earlier,” I began, my mouth suddenly dry as cotton. “It was a mating gift. The kind that… binds souls together.”

  Pain stabbed my heart. A mark like the kind Belial had given me.

  I had my own void to contend with.

  Azazel seemed to barely be breathing. “That is what they do, yes. I would feel you as you feel me.”

  “Well… if you gave me this mark, perhaps it would link you to my soul. You could fill yours with mine. Maybe it wouldn’t feel so empty anymore.”

  My eyes dropped to his lips. Heat rose in me at the memory of what they felt like on my thighs, kissing a blazing trail on my skin…

  Azazel was my tutor in magic, and not necessarily a kind one, but he drew me like a lodestone. He’d done nothing but raise me up from desperation from the moment I’d fallen. Like Tascius, he made me want to give him parts of myself.

  To my surprise, his eyes frosted over. “If I gave you this mark, I would expect you not to push me away when Belial is near.”

  “I…” I was speechless. The first time I’d nearly fallen under his spell of lust, I’d been terrified for my life, uncertain of Belial’s temper. My own temper flared at Azazel’s insinuation that a mating mark would mean nothing between us. “If I gave you my feather, I would expect you to visit more often than once a week or when someone’s in dire need. I don’t hand them out like candy. You would be mine just as much as I would be yours, and that means actually being around.”

  The Watcher pushed a little closer, forcing my legs further apart. “If you could call for me, I would always be there.”

  He practically purred it, his thumb stroking down my chin and over my throat. My lungs seemed unable to draw in a full breath while he was touching me like this.

  “Then maybe we should give this idea some serious consideration.”

  “Oh, I am.” His fingers moved around the nape of my neck, running over the delicate skin there. “I know exactly where I would place it.”

  Goosebumps rose under the spot he touched. “Are… are you going to do it now?”

  I was oddly disappointed by the thought. If we were going to be soul-bound, I didn’t want it to be as emotionless as a business transaction.

  “No.” Azazel’s clipped tones were back in place. He dragged his hand away from my neck. “If we do this, we do it right. I’ve never had the desire to mark someone before. I won’t waste my one opportunity.”

  I breathed a silent sigh of relief.

  I wanted the same thing, the deep intimacy I’d felt when I claimed Tascius as my own. Azazel was still a mystery in so many ways, but in his shadows, under his stars, I felt at home.

  And right now, I felt like I’d just arranged myself a marriage of sorts. I hope he didn’t feel it was a bond of convenience, not when I hungered for him in the same way, and still had yet to taste much more of him than his lips.

  But he’d said if. If we do this.

  I wondered if he felt the same thing for me under his ravenous hunger that I felt for him. I looked down, taking in the dried blood on my hands.

  “Please, Azazel. Tell me what did this to him.”

  The Watcher stiffened, but said nothing.

  “I should say goodbye to Lucifer,” I muttered, suddenly self-conscious. Perhaps it was just an arrangement of convenience for him, when I’d all but laid my emotional cards on the table.

  He still didn’t trust me.

  “You want to leave already?” Azazel demanded.

  I met flickering violet eyes, refusing to nurse the hope that sprouted in me. “I should give you time to consider this proposition.”

  His lips twisted, but he stepped back, allowing me to slide off the balustrade. “If you wish.”

  I wasn’t going to cling to him and seem needy, despite my intense desire for their company. I wished he would just come with me back to my half of the Seventh Circle, but he didn’t offer, and I didn’t ask.

  Or you could shelve your pride for two seconds and just ask.

  I swept the errant thought away. My pride was the engine that kept me running.

  It also fucked up everything I’d had with Belial.

  I pushed open Lucifer’s door. He was still sleeping, his body knitting itself back together after the trauma.

  I climbed across the covers to brush a kiss over his cheek. He exhaled softly, almost a sigh, and his eyelids flickered, but he remained unconscious.

  It was terrible to see him brought this low.

  “I’m ready to go home,” I said quietly to Azazel, closing the door behind me. If Lucifer was fine, I’d be able to tell him what I’d meant before, that he wasn’t just something I’d grasped for when I’d had nothing left.

  Azazel bore us back to my Circle on his shadows, materializing us in the middle of my bedroom.

  I looked up at him, wondering if I should ask him to stay the night… or if that was pushing my proposition too far.

  He gazed back into my eyes, his expression darkening.

  My words seemed caught in a net, unable to break free.

  “Good night, Lady Wrath,” he said, and kissed my fingers before he released me.

  I remained at the window for a long time after he vanished, feeling like I’d had an opportunity in my hands, and let it slip away like quicksilver.

  It was only when one of them was here that this dark place felt like home.

  5

  Melisande

  He didn’t come back that night.

  I tossed and turned in the darkness, internally pummeling myself for not just swallowing my pride and saying what I really thought, and when Vyra tapped on my door the next day with an invitation sealed in wax, I took it and sat down on the bench for her to play with my hair without a second thought.

  “Why so sad, Melisande?” she asked, happily beginning her work on what seemed like a hundred braids.

  “Your brother,” I growled, starting when I saw the seal pressed into the red wax: Belial’s sigil.

  I’d managed to push Azazel away, so I supposed it was cosmic justice that the Prince of Wrath got to rub a bit more salt in my wounds. “I don’t know what to say when I’m around him, and I always end up screwing everything up.”

  I cracked open the seal, letting my fingers linger a touch too long on the wax that Belial had touched.

  “At some point, you’re going to have to let go of your pride a little.” Vyra pinned a braid in place, talking around several more she held between her teeth. “Having emotions isn’t a bad thing. It’s called being alive.”

  I couldn’t help but smile at her dry tone. She’d hit the mark dead-on.

  Gabriel had trained us in pride and hiding our inner selves. It still perversely pleased me to do the exact opposite of what he’d wanted us to do… but at the same time, it was so hard to let go of those lessons.

  I unfolded the letter with trembling fingers, smoothing the creased parchment. Belial’s harsh letters spilled across the pages like slashes.

  I have a bet for you, angel.

  Bring your finest. You might enjoy the outcome.

  There was no name signed, no sarcastic barbs, just those few aloof words.

  He wanted to make a bet? I’d bet all day and all night.

  Anything that would win me Tascius.
r />   “The longer you pretend you don’t want him, the weaker you’ll be against him.”

  I looked up from the letter, sucking in air like it would fill the hole in my chest. “I don’t think I can pretend I don’t. It’s obvious to anyone who sees me near him.”

  “But it’s your pride you’re fighting against, and it’s always a losing battle for you.” Vyra brushed paint over my lips. “Stop. Being. So. Prideful.”

  “It’s the way I was made,” I muttered, standing up to step into her latest creation. It was another dark dress, with raven feathers at the hem and around my throat. Tiny diamonds studded the fabric like the night sky.

  “No,” Vyra corrected, lacing the back between my wings. “It’s the way the archangels made you. You’re the Lady of Wrath now. No one’s going to be turned off if you just let yourself loose… least of all Belial or my brother.”

  “It’s just hard to let the words out when I’m feeling it.”

  Vyra smiled as I slipped my silver claws over my fingertips. “I know. Believe me, I know. There are so many things I wish I could say and somehow, I never find the courage. But I’m not going to let you fall into that hole with me.”

  I kissed her cheek, smelling jasmine and sugar on her skin. “I don’t deserve you, you know that?”

  “Or maybe I’m exactly what you deserve,” she said, wiggling her eyebrows. “I’m your own personal demon to whisper on your shoulder.”

  “You’re not pocket-sized or I’d let you sit there all day.”

  “Just go,” she said, nudging me towards the door. “Try to swallow your pride for once. You don’t have to live in a misery of your own making.”

  I strode into Belial’s arena, already packed to the brim with demons, and the moment his eyes met mine I knew I’d need to nuke my pride with a hellfire explosion before I’d apologize first.

  His smirk was taunting. He knew I wouldn’t have been able to resist his invitation.

  My Chainlings swarmed my dais, raising the raven-feather banners for me. I’d brought only several, but one of them was apparently renowned far and wide as being an Inner Initiate of the Mysteries of the Chain.

  This apparently translated to him being an extreme badass, therefore he was my champion, all the Chainlings agreed.

  I sat on my throne and the demons swarmed in, held back only by the silence of my followers, who surrounded the dais like a bodyguard.

  My champion sat at the base, patiently waiting. He seemed confident of himself, with no need to twirl his chains or put on an act for the crowd.

  I glanced at Belial, who lounged on his dais lazily, like he didn’t have a care in the world.

  It ripped at me that he’d only called me here because he knew I couldn’t resist the possibility of seeing Tascius. Or himself. It was a weapon he could always use against me.

  “What bet did you have for me, Prince?”

  To my surprise, shadows emerged on the dais opposite me as Azazel arrived. The Watcher settled on his chair, his violet eyes piercing me through.

  I shivered under that gaze, and it wasn’t unpleasant at all. Perhaps I hadn’t completely pushed him away.

  Belial gave Azazel an exasperated look before turning his gaze back to me. “Your Chainling against one of my champions. Winner takes all.”

  Excitement stirred low in my stomach. If he offered Tascius…

  I didn’t ask the Chainlings what they thought of my offering one of them up as a bet this time. They’d made it very clear that they were tired of my constant questioning of the orders I gave them, until one of them had approached me and told me that a proper Link in the Chain didn’t ask permission, she just forged her way as she saw fit.

  Leading fanatic cultists who were willing to throw themselves on a dagger on command was turning out to be an eye-opening experience.

  “I accept. I send my Inner Initiate as my champion into the ring.”

  My Chainling champion rose to his feet, dark robes sweeping the floor. He strode to the middle and turned, bowing to me from the waist.

  “I send…” Belial’s grin grew wider when I leaned forward, unable to conceal my anticipation. “Lady Savage.”

  Fucker. I glared at him, refusing to slump down despite the crushing disappointment.

  Belial’s eyes glittered dangerously. You thought I’d make it easy? he mouthed.

  I just shook my head, rage simmering under my skin.

  It was a cheap trick, but an effective low blow. A lot like being punched in the emotional gut.

  My mood didn’t improve when Lady Savage pranced out, twirling her daggers.

  The Chainling just waited, still as a statue, while she whipped up the crowd. One of the demons nearly swooned over the wall when she jumped up and clung to the edge to kiss his cheek, leaving a crimson lip print behind.

  I grit my teeth as the fight began, to be astonished almost immediately. The Chainling whipped his murderous spiked chains around, driving Lady Savage back despite her speed. Each chain split into several more like after-images burned into my eyes, until he was a whirling forest of death.

  Even Lady Savage looked taken aback, dodging and ducking the crashing links.

  She wasn’t Tascius, but there was a good chance I’d steal one of Belial’s champions away from him. Maybe she wasn’t the one I’d wanted, and maybe I wanted to cut her a few times myself, but she’d be a worthwhile addition to my fledgling army.

  I looked over at the Prince of Wrath, unable to contain my rising glee, but that emotion was immediately snuffed out and replaced with pure burning fury.

  A succubus I didn’t recognize pulled herself up onto Belial’s bone dais and curled herself next to his leg, her hand roaming over his leg and up to the bend of his knee. She wore what amounted to scraps of sheer silk, and looked up at him with an inviting smile, her lids lowered. He glanced at her coldly, his fire iced over.

  The pounding of my furious heartbeats crashed through me, feeling like they’d explode right through my pressure points.

  But Belial was staring back at me now. He raised an eyebrow, like he was asking, what are you going to do about this?

  I didn’t realize I’d gotten up until my feet hit the familiar polished stone of the arena, carrying me past the fight to the bone dais. I stepped over one of Yraceli’s forgotten chains and climbed the steps, dark fire sparkling at my fingertips.

  “Get the fuck out.”

  The succubus tore her gaze away from Belial and her eyes widened. She was there one moment, scrambling away into the crowd in the next.

  I took a deep breath, forcing my fire back inside me where it belonged. The urge to wipe her off the face of Hell had been far too attractive a temptation.

  “What’s this, angel?” Belial leaned forward, his grin more feral than ever. “Do I smell jealousy?”

  He could’ve just pushed her away himself instead of forcing me to show my hand. The jealousy simmered in my stomach like a sickness.

  “Hardly.” I tried to laugh, but the sound was wooden and hollow. I’d wanted to shred the succubus limb from limb.

  Still wanted to, in fact, just for daring to touch him.

  “Are you sure about that?” He leaned back, looking far too self-satisfied. “You wanted to be free of me so desperately, after all. What else could possibly bring you storming back over here? If you want to work off your territorial aggression, I’ve got a bed, and I can handle anything you dish out.”

  He seemed completely uncaring about the succubus, no matter how inviting she was. The rational side of my brain tried to cool my jealousy, but he wasn’t getting away with it so easily.

  “I’m not jealous,” I hissed, clenching my fists. “And I’m not interested in anything you have to offer.”

  “No? Thanks for scaring away my night’s entertainment, then, since you’re so obviously disinterested.”

  But his smug grin had slipped, the same rage I felt mirrored on his face. He spat the words like he could wound me with them.

&
nbsp; And they did wound, deeply. Even if he immediately looked regretful under the fury.

  Any notion I’d had of destroying my pride and asking him for forgiveness was gone.

  “Have all the succubi you want, prince,” I said through clenched teeth. “You deserve them. I’m just disappointed you lured me here under false pretenses. Where is my mate?”

  “There were no false pretenses.” Anger simmered under the fake-pleasantry of his tone. “I offered you a bet, and here we are.”

  “You know there’s only one male I’d come here for.”

  Let that blade sink in.

  His aqua eyes flashed, rage deepening into something other than wrath. The desire to strike out and hurt me, too, no matter what was destroyed between us. A cut for a cut, the thousand little slices combining into one mortal wound.

  I could almost see him swallowing back whatever words he was going to say, his teeth snapping together.

  “No, go ahead and say what’s on your mind, Belial. There’s nothing I’d love to hear more right now.”

  “I don’t think that’s wise, angel.”

  His smile was pulled tight, almost painful. Strands of gold glittered in his hair, and his teeth were sharper…

  “Then make me a trade.” I felt a stab of guilt for pushing his temper so far, but he averted his eyes, gazing at the fight I wasn’t watching. “Trade me for Tascius. I’ll fight my seven rounds again if you free him to my half of the Circle.”

  Belial’s eyes snapped up to my face, his anger still white-hot. “What good would I get out of that?”

  “I’d be back under your thumb.” I tried to keep my voice even. “Right where you liked me.”

  “It wasn’t under my thumb where I liked you best,” he growled.

  I crossed my arms over my chest, hating the way his growl made me feel- like he had a direct line to the strings that made this puppet dance, made her fall into his bed.

  “Then that’s where you’ll have me.” I refused to look away, unwillingly enchanted by the little yellow stars in his eyes. “For all seven rounds once more.”

  The Prince of Wrath looked almost intrigued by the idea, running his hand through his dark hair and pulling it back from his face. If I was being honest with myself, there was nothing I wanted more than to bend down and kiss him, let my lips explore every plane of his features.