by Cate Corvin
I could give her a taste of all the glory Gabriel had deprived her of.
Fighting shouldn’t be treated like a soulless necessity. It was an art, and the artists of blood and pain deserved praise for their work.
My view of her winked out as Azazel’s shadow-shield flickered into place around my dais, effectively shielding the three of us from sight and sound.
“You owe me a favor, Belial.” His smooth, precise tones filled the shadow-shield, and a moment later the demon himself materialized from a patch of glittering shade. Cool violet eyes warmed when he glanced at Vyra, but frosted over again when his gaze landed on me.
“I’m hosting your sister, who took up literally an entire storage room just for her sequins and nail polish. Is that not a favor?”
Azazel flicked an invisible bit of lint off his shoulder. Two silver-plated raven skulls gleamed at his lapels. “And she’s keeping the angel in presentable condition, which you failed to do. That makes it a favor from us.”
“I’d say those two cancel each other out, then.” I forced my hands to remain relaxed on the arms of my throne. Fucking Grigori and their presumptions.
“Perhaps. But you still owe me another favor, if you’ll remember, and I’ve decided the time is right to call in my markers.”
Azazel slid his hands in his pockets but looked over his shoulder at the angel pacing the arena. It seemed like an involuntary twitch, almost more of a compulsion.
I was smiling when he turned around and his expression darkened.
“What did you have in mind, Azazel? I’m not giving up my angel.”
“You’re going to stunt her growth if you keep her here,” he said bluntly. “She has magic, Belial, and it’s not going to be what it was before. If she doesn’t understand it, she’ll either lose a part of herself forever, or it’ll consume her. Those are both unacceptable outcomes to the Prince of Dis.”
So Lucifer had a hand in this.
I tapped my fingers against the bone chair, considering what he asked for. The Grigori, known as the Watchers by humanity on Old Earth, were the keepers and teachers of magic. If anyone could train Melisande into using what was likely a corrupted wellspring of power inside herself, it was him.
I couldn’t deny the possessive urge to keep her close to me was powerful, almost enough to override my senses.
But if she was an artist, her magic was yet another tool at her disposal. Gabriel might be fine with holding back his protégées, but I wanted to see what she painted across the world with sword and magic.
“You can have six hours on the sixth day of the week. You’ll train her here, in the Seventh Circle.”
Azazel shook his head, dislodging a lock of ebony hair. “Six hours is nothing. Two days, the sixth and seventh days of the week.”
“The seventh day is mine. Sixteen hours.”
Azazel’s eyes could’ve been carved from ice. “Bullshit, Belial. You’ll let your own avarice be her downfall. A full day, twilight to twilight.”
My lips twisted. “Here.”
“In Blackchapel. We can withstand any… incidents.”
I considered arguing further, but he was right, to my irritation. My angel’s magic was worth a full day without her in my Circle. “Agreed. Twilight to twilight on the sixth day of the week, in Blackchapel. If I find out you’ve brought her anywhere near him, the deal is off, and you can take your favor and shove it up your ass. You won’t get another.”
A little of Azazel’s glacial coldness melted. “You of all people know I wouldn’t do that. It’s agreed, then.”
I’d almost forgotten Vyra’s presence with us inside the shadow-shield until she let out a little cheer. “She can stay with me in Blackchapel. And you know I’d kill Azazel myself if he did that.”
She was half the reason I trusted him to keep Melisande safe in Blackchapel. As long as there was a succubus around, Melisande would have someone to watch her back.
And, barring that, my sigil on her palm.
I’d put… a little more than the full brand on her. No matter where she went, I could reach through the bond and feel for her and know if she was in danger.
Nobody got to fuck with her as long as that brand remained.
Azazel raised an eyebrow. “Two days from now I’ll be here for her. If I find that she’s wearing another potato sack, we will have words again, Belial.”
“As long as your sister is here, potato sacks are the least of my fears.” I stood up, already sick of his company. Melisande was directly across the arena, and I had yet to express my appreciation for my champion. Preferably in bed. What was fucking if not another form of fighting?
Azazel’s solid form faded at the edges until he was entirely incorporeal again. “This bargain encompasses Vyra, too. As long as she’s here, she’s under your aegis-”
Everything else Azazel said faded to background noise as I caught sight of Melisande through a sweep of shadows.
She glanced up at my dais, a wide smile spread across her face, glowing like a star. She was eating this up, loving every second of it.
And she looked to me to share the joy of it with.
Her smile faltered when she saw Azazel’s shadow-shield enveloping us, but I pushed through the sphere, the shades tickling my skin. “Get the fuck out, Azazel.”
The Grigori laughed softly and withdrew his shadows, fading away into nothing.
I strode down the bone stairs made of everything I’d killed to create this place, and the sound of the arena was almost deafening when I emerged.
“Who was the only one unblooded tonight?” I shouted, raising their blood. My Overseers would bring out the hellhounds next for the betting crowd, and I wanted to see that gold flow.
“No Saint!”
“Who is your champion?”
They responded just as I’d trained them as I approached my angel, looking up at her on the wall. She was still breathing hard, sweat glittering on her skin, a manic sort of glee in those pale gold eyes.
I couldn’t hold back the smirk or mouthing, you look good over me.
After all, it was true.
Instead of retreating into her defensive shell, Melisande leaned down to touch my outstretched hand. You look better under me.
My smile widened. Bit by bit, Gabriel’s repressive iron bars were crumbling apart.
I reached up to grab her and her wings fluttered in protest, nails digging into my hands as I settled her on one of my shoulders. As a human-born angel she was still small, the size of her mortal shell, barely an inch over five feet and as light as one of her feathers.
“Give it up for her!” I shouted, pacing the obsidian circle. “The next Thousand and One Nights belong to No Saint!”
She stiffened and I gripped her bare thigh more firmly. She might’ve hated the close contact with me, but she was still riding that high, punching her fist in the air as they chanted her name.
“Feels good, doesn’t it?” I stroked her skin, and one of her wings smacked me in the back of my head.
“Which part?” she asked breathlessly.
I gave her my most innocent look, which wasn’t very innocent at all, and squeezed her thigh harder. “The fame and glory. Did you even need to ask?”
Melisande hesitated, then laughed. Her fingers dug into my other shoulder, and I wondered if she was imagining ripping my skin off, or if she liked the feeling of my hands on her bare skin.
I wasn’t wasting another second in this damn arena when I had a laughing angel on my shoulder.
“Bring out the hellhounds,” I ordered an Overseer, striding under one of the archways by my throne. Melisande stiffened as we approached the closed gate, but we passed right through the bars like they were mist.
Nobody else was permitted to use that gate, keyed to my essence with my own blood and bone.
I lifted her off my shoulder like she weighed nothing, carrying her down the dark corridor to the rooms beyond. She gave me one of those opaque looks that were impossible to read,
but she licked her lower lip, eyes fixed on my mouth.
Checkmate, angel.
The walls shifted around us, bringing us exactly where I intended. Melisande’s eyes narrowed as the door closed behind us, becoming a seamless portion of the wall.
I spun around and pushed her against it, flipping her so her legs were around my waist. Her nails dimpled my shoulders, but she didn’t push me away.
She did let out a low sigh, her back arching when she felt my aching cock pressed against her center.
“Does fighting get you hot, angel?” I asked, angling my face towards the vulnerable underside of her jaw and neck. She shivered against me when I bit her earlobe. “There’s no shame in it. It’s what we are.”
I licked a slow trail along her neck, relishing the pounding of her heart against my chest. Only sex and war could make the heart race like that.
“We aren’t supposed to enjoy it,” she gasped. Her arms slid around my neck, holding me closer.
Fucking Gabriel.
I kissed my way back up her throat, over her chin, and caught her lips. She opened to me and I slid my tongue over hers, gripping her hips hard enough to bruise.
“I give you permission to enjoy it.” I sucked her lower lip between my teeth, and bit down just hard enough to make her squirm. “I order you to enjoy it. When you rip a sword through your enemy’s body, I want you to think about how hard I’m going to make you come afterwards.”
She found my lips blindly, silencing me with another deep kiss, but her hips rolled forward. I swallowed her moans, and reached between her legs, roughly shoving aside the shorts and stroking her wet pussy.
Melisande gasped, her entire body stiffening against me, but I swirled my thumb over her clit and growled when her eyes rolled back in her head. My cock was aching enough to hurt, but she needed to be trained.
Every time she fought in my arena, she would come to associate the bloodlust of the fight with the release of all her pent-up sexual energy.
Her wings trembled as she strained against me. I slipped a finger inside her and was rewarded with a cry.
She was so new to this, and brimming with unreleased needs, that I felt her spasm around me before I’d done more than slide in and out, the heel of my palm grinding against her clit. Her pussy clamped down on my fingers and I pushed harder, drawing out the orgasm until she was panting for me to stop, her nails practically drawing blood.
I kissed her, catching her tongue, and pulled her away from the wall. My bed was enormous, and she looked so small when I laid her on it, her tits still rising and falling with rapid breaths.
“Why the wall?” she asked, her voice rasping. “It’s always the wall with you demons.”
I climbed over her, licking the glittering plane of her stomach and enjoying the way her muscles tightened under my mouth. “You get the bed when I know you won’t try to claw your way out of it.”
The battle-frenzied lust was slowly fading from her eyes, replaced with the emotion that I was used to seeing from her: a wary assessment, now tinged with what could only be horror at what she’d allowed me to do to her.
She wrapped her arms around herself, drawing away from me.
That was all right. I could afford to be patient. I didn’t want to break her before I had a chance to uncover the angel Gabriel had buried under this shell.
But if she was going to pull away, she wasn’t getting anything else from me.
I got up from the bed and tossed her a silk robe a succubus had left behind months or possibly years ago. “There’s been a change in your living arrangements.”
She drew the robe around herself, giving me that wary scowl I was so familiar with. “What do you mean? I’ve done what you asked. I haven’t broken any rules.”
“On the sixth day of every week, you’ll have a new keeper for a full day, from twilight to twilight.” My lips twisted, and I turned my back on her so she didn’t see it. I’d love to see Azazel’s head bronzed right next to Gabriel’s. “Blackchapel will be your home on those days, but you’ll still bear my sigil. If you try to leave Blackchapel without him, whoever finds you will drag you right back here to me.” I smiled at her. “You won’t like the consequences of that.”
She slid off the bed, her wings trembling with rage instead of lust now. “So you sold me.”
“I prefer the term ‘loan’.”
Melisande bared her teeth. “I want to go back to my room now.”
I held out my arm to the stretch of blank wall. “Be my guest.”
She stared at me, her golden eyes full of reproach, and strode towards the wall. The magic within felt her presence and adjusted to her wishes, sliding open to reveal her quarters. My angel paused, clearly discomfited by how easily I could walk right into her chambers if I wanted, but she stepped through and whirled around once she was on the other side.
“I’d say fuck you, Belial, but I will never fuck you. The only thing I’ll think about when I kill demons is how hard I’m going to kill you someday.”
I couldn’t help but grin. When she was pissed, I just wanted to fuck her harder. Her anger fed me.
“We’ll see after the next time I make you come.”
She opened her mouth to reply, but the obsidian wall slid shut, cutting her off.
12
Melisande
As soon as the wall slid shut, cutting me off before I could tell Belial that there wasn’t going to be a next time, someone knocked on my door.
I flung it open without thinking, still enraged that Belial had a space-shifting dimension that allowed him to walk in on me at any time. Enraged that I’d let him put himself inside me, and it’d felt even better than the rush of victory.
Tascius looked down at me, and one of his eyebrows slid upwards when he took in the disarray of my hair and red-stained cheeks. “You look more like you fought your round between the sheets, friend.”
I gestured for him to come inside and slammed the door behind him, locking it for all the good it didn’t do.
“There were no sheets involved, unless you’re talking about Angelcake.” I tore the silk robe off. It was a woman’s robe, which made it so much worse. I’d let him touch me, and for all I knew, he had an army of succubi walking through his quarters day and night. Shame crashed over me, dispelling any of the joy I felt about my second victory.
And he’d given me away to a stranger. I was nothing to him, an object to be traded around.
Two of the veils from my skirt followed the robe onto the floor. Fuck this costume, fuck the paint, fuck the jewelry.
No matter how many demons screamed my name, they were still the followers of my enemy.
I yanked the jeweled chains off my bra straps and tossed those, too, then went for the necklace.
“Let me.” Tascius turned me around, and I took a shuddering breath to calm myself as he worked the clasp. His fingers lingered at the nape of my neck, reminding me of what I’d just given in to, and worse, what I wanted more of. “You won the night, Melisande.”
“I did.” It didn’t bring me much comfort. “I need to wash all this off. I don’t want it on my skin.”
He removed the necklace and his hands dropped, carefully unlacing the ribbon of my bra.
I kept my wings as still as possible, afraid that if I touched any more of him than was strictly necessary, I might be tempted into doing more sinful things.
I held the bra on when it was loosened. “Please don’t go yet.” If there was one person I could trust in Hell, it was my only friend.
Tascius nodded, but I saw the lines of tension in his face when I looked up at him. His jaw was clenched tight.
I booked it to the bathroom, where I had a bath that was similar to the one downstairs, a pool sunk into the floor with a small tiled wall around it. I shed the last of Vyra’s ridiculous costume and stepped over the edge into the middle, yanking the silver chain that sent a cascade of steaming water over my head.
When I’d scrubbed away the makeup and paint and
washed the floor clean, I stoppered the drain and refilled it with hot water. Several glass bottles lined the far side of the rim, and I dumped half of one in and splashed around, filling it with dense bubbles.
This is what Suzara had wanted. Living like a king, but at the beck and call of a prince who could chew you up and spit you back out whenever he pleased.
I sank into the bubbles, and when I was sure everything was covered, I called. “You can come in now, friend.” The heat soaked through my limbs. My arm was going to feel like it was on fire tomorrow after what I’d put it through.
Tascius’ jaw was still tight when he came in and sank onto the stone steps outside the bath. “So what has you all twisted up?”
He sat with his back to the bath’s wall, his silver hair in danger of spilling into the water. I floated closer and twined a lock of it around my dripping fingers, darkening the color to a steel gray, and blew out a frustrated breath.
“Tascius, when I fell, I thought I could hold onto myself. I thought that even though I wasn’t part of a choir anymore, I could still act like I was.” I let his hair slide through my fingers. “But I don’t think I can. I think there’s a part of me that likes this too much, and I can’t fight her.”
He turned and propped his arm on the edge of the bath, watching me with midnight blue eyes that didn’t hold a trace of the darkness lurking inside him. I mimicked the pose, my elbow just touching his.
“Then let her out.”
“At what cost?” I whispered.
“You’re not becoming a different person, Melisande. This was already in there. Now you have the excuse of openly embracing it, and that scares you.” He reached out to touch my wet fingers. “Isn’t it better to understand yourself than always keep it locked away?”
“Is that what you do?” I stroked his hand, letting water bead on his skin.
“It took me years to come to terms with myself, but now I’m better for it. You need to do the same, friend.”
I sighed, pillowing my cheek on my arm. “It isn’t just that. Belial… gave me away. For one day a week.”