by Cate Corvin
I darted in from above, crashing into the dip between his shoulder blades and grabbing onto handfuls of his gleaming golden mane. Belial made a throaty chuffing sound like laughter, tossing his head.
I held on tight, muscles straining, wings flapping to keep me balanced on his back. Several beads popped free and rattled off his fur in a glittering rain as the seams of my outfit stretched.
He started bucking, rolling his head and sweeping his tail under my legs. I jumped up to avoid being dislodged or burned, and the beast twisted in midair, wrapping massive furry forelegs around me.
My back hit the ground with a thud and I gasped, expecting several tons of lion to crush me like a grape.
A man’s arms wrapped around me, and Belial leaned in close so the tips of our noses were touching. “I think we’ve switched places, angel.”
My heart was thrumming from far more than the fight. He’d totally crushed me in this round, but there was always a next time as long as I wasn’t dead.
That next time was right now. I hadn’t conceded.
“Or maybe you’re exactly where I want you.” Belial’s eyes glittered dangerously, but I hooked my leg around his, slammed my elbow into his chest, and flipped him over, crouching over his chest. “It’s not over.”
“You’re damn right about that.”
His stomach flexed as he grabbed for my wrists, but I broke away before he got a grip and grabbed the hard bulge in the side of his pants I’d felt when I flipped him.
“Is that a dagger in your pants, or are you just happy to see me?”
The corners of his lips tugged upwards. “Both, angel. Always both.”
I tugged and the dagger came free. “Aw. It is a dagger.”
“Aim a little to the left next time. You’ll find another one you might like more.”
I tilted my prize, examining the blade. It was so dark it seemed to suck in all the light around it, but flecks of red and gold iridescence glinted in its depths. “Now isn’t this fancy,” I whispered, tightening my fingers around the grip and leveling it to slam into his heart.
To my surprise, he grabbed the blade and jerked it out of my hands, sending it skittering across the arena floor. The deep cut in his palm sealed over almost instantly, barely spilling a single drop of blood.
Belial flipped me again, pinning my wings beneath me. One of the first lessons Gabriel had ever taught us popped into my head: a pinned angel is a dead angel.
I drove my knee upwards, aiming for his balls, but he curled around me like a striking snake, one of his arms wrapping my throat in a choke-hold. My wings battered uselessly at the ground as my face steadily purpled.
I strained against him, feeling what definitely wasn’t a dagger pushed between my legs, and finally tapped out as the first black spots of unconsciousness washed across my vision.
Belial released me. He’d barely broken a sweat, but he was breathing as heavily as I was.
I wasn’t ready for this fight to be over.
He got to his feet smoothly, pulling me up into his arms.
“To the victor goes the spoils!” he shouted, and my face flamed when I realized what he meant. The lascivious whooping of my fans echoed in my ears as he carried me through the stone archway to his quarters.
We’d just passed beneath it when I wrapped my arms around his neck, my legs around his waist, and kissed him hard enough to bruise. The copper taste of blood filled my mouth when my lower lip bumped against his teeth, but Belial just grunted, his hands roaming over my back and ass.
He slammed his shoulder into the blank wall at the end of the corridor without looking, groaning when I slid my tongue into his mouth. The door slid open and slammed shut again, and Belial climbed into his bed like an oversized panther, still cupping my ass.
I ducked my head and kissed along his broad jaw, running my tongue over the scars peppering his skin, tasting salt and something that was so purely masculine I couldn’t bear to pull my lips away.
He arched over me, grinding his cock against the remains of my costume.
My mouth found the hollow of his throat and moved lower, encouraged by the animalistic sounds he made.
“Get this thing off,” he growled, ripping silver mesh and scattering beads across his bed.
I didn’t care if I’d promised I wouldn’t fuck him until I’d beaten him in front of the Circle. The bloodlust of an unfulfilled fight was still humming in my veins, the need to take out the remnants of my rage on a body that could take it and hand it back driving my every need.
I shrugged off the torn remainders of the delicate mesh, exposing my breasts and already-hardening nipples to him. Rough, calloused hands ran over my bare hips, his thumbs stroking my nipples as I arched beneath him.
“Get that off,” I snarled back, tugging at his waistband.
He knocked my hands away and pushed me back on the bed, his mouth taking the place of his hands. Heat rushed through me in a volcanic flood as his teeth grazed my nipple, tongue soothing the pain.
I raked my fingers through his hair as his mouth moved lower. He threw my legs over his broad shoulders, tongue dipping between my legs-
A breath of cool air swept over me, pebbling my skin, followed by a second, icier blast.
Belial raised his head, brilliant eyes glimmering with a rage that had nothing to do with lust.
“Are you fucking serious?” he roared, jerking his head over his shoulder.
I threw my arms around myself, covering my bare breasts when a familiar, glimmering form took shape.
Azazel leaned against Belial’s chamber wall, looking completely at home, and not at all like he’d just interrupted a very important part of my day.
I glared at him with a fury that could’ve matched Belial’s.
Azazel held up his wrist, showing the glimmering clockwork watch. “Do I seem fucking serious? Twilight. Sixth day.”
I jerked my legs off Belial’s shoulders, curling up so Azazel didn’t have a front-row view to my pussy. “You couldn’t have waited an hour?” I asked in disbelief.
Belial glanced at me, his lips twitching despite his scowl. “It would’ve taken much longer than an hour, angel.”
“And now you get twenty-four with me.” Azazel smiled, his violet eyes cold despite his amusement. “Let’s see Belial last that long.”
21
Azazel
Few things were funnier to me than cockblocking my old friend and knowing he wasn’t going to do shit about it.
It took a lot of effort to drag my eyes away from the naked angel in his bed- all my effort, actually, and that was no small amount- but I kept my gaze firmly pinned to the furious prince who was rising to his feet.
I remained right where I was, leaning against the wall like I didn’t have a care in the world. I really didn’t.
I might’ve interrupted the best part of his year, but if my lessons benefited Melisande, Belial would growl and rage, and ultimately send her with me.
“Do you have any concept of privacy, Watcher?”
I lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “Do you? You were about to fuck her right there on the arena floor.”
Belial tossed his long hair over his shoulder, still panting from the fight and the… other fight. “Amend our agreement for the night. You can take her for half of the seventh day.”
Melisande’s champagne-gold eyes flicked between the two of us, her brows drawing together in a scowl. “I’m right here. Stop talking about me like an object.”
Belial and I both started talking at once, trying to ameliorate the object of our desires.
“I won’t let him take you-”
“What days would you like, Melisande?”
“Not after that. Tonight is yours and mine-”
“Maybe you should get a say in the deal-”
She held up a hand, stopping both of us. “I don’t want to amend the deal.”
A low rumble emanated from the Prince of Wrath.
“What do you mean, you don’t w
ant to amend it?” A dangerous glint came into Belial’s eyes. “You’ve held it against me for weeks.”
She glared up at him, and I resisted the urge to laugh. “And then you threw one of your old fucktoy’s robes at me! Why shouldn’t I have held it against you?”
“I can think of an amendment that would benefit both of us, Belial,” I said quietly, capturing the prince’s attention. Belial tore his gaze away from Melisande, the fists balled at his side slowly relaxing. “I’ll train her here instead. She’ll always remain in the Seventh Circle… if you pledge your army and support to Blackchapel.”
Belial’s mouth pulled into a grin, but there was no humor in it. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
I nodded slowly. I couldn’t let a hint of my eagerness show, or he’d reject the offer out of spite.
But Belial was one of the last keys in our plan. Despite his temper, he was the best warmaster in Hell, and when he’d broken from our alliance, the blow had been heavier than I wanted to admit.
He’d always been a lone wolf. Melisande was the first thing I’d seen of him having a weakness. He was the prince who’d slain his own mother and built his arena over her bones.
Until Melisande had fallen, practically into his arms, I hadn’t expected to ever find leverage over him.
“You know I won’t lie. I’ve been asking for centuries.”
Belial crossed his arms over his chest. “And once again, I decline.”
“Not even for her sake?” I nodded to Melisande, pretending I didn’t see her stormy scowl.
“I’m not sending her into the jaws of death.” Belial let out a short, sharp laugh. “She’s perfectly safe in Blackchapel. I don’t need to pledge my armies to you just to keep her locked in here. Let her stretch her wings over the Fields.”
My gamble had completely and totally backfired, as evidenced by Belial’s smirk and the startled but grateful look Melisande threw his way.
Wonderful. Now he’d look like the noble hero sacrificing one of his days to give her freedom to fly.
I had no choice but to shrug it off and smile. “Lucifer will be overjoyed.”
“Good.” Belial’s tone was terse. “I’m so glad to hear it.”
I pushed off the wall and held out my hand, beckoning Melisande. “Let’s be off, then. The clock’s ticking.”
She started to rise, seemed to realize she was still stark naked, and glowered at me. “Azazel… my clothes are…”
A scatter of beads glittered on the floor like diamonds. I nudged a shredded bit of silver mesh with my toe. The rest of it was halfway across the room in bits and pieces.
“Everywhere.” I took in the smudged rings of silver on her arms and legs. “You’ve got paint. That’s good enough.”
Belial yanked open a wardrobe, but I crossed the room in three long strides to the bed, grabbed one of the white sheets, and wrapped it around her.
It was as much for her sake as mine. The silk clung to her like a second skin, leaving only enough to the imagination to tantalize and set the hungry abyss in my soul to roaring.
“Now you’re covered.” I picked her up and cradled her against my chest, calling on the shadows to swallow me whole.
Belial reached for her, but his hands passed right through her.
“You fucker,” he said, but there was no heat in it. He leaned forward, inches away from Melisande’s ephemeral face, clearly waiting.
The sparkling outlines of her body leaning forward, kissing him without sensation.
Jealousy ate at me as Belial smiled at her, like he’d forgotten that I was standing right here with them. It was like they were in a bubble where nothing else existed.
“Bye for now,” she whispered, even her voice a shadow of itself. “Thank you for the fight, but I want you to know I’ll kick your feline ass next time.”
“Looking forward to it. Enjoy your flight.”
I glared at Belial, and he smugly stared back.
Now I’d have to let her fly despite the danger, or she’d hold it against me forever.
We rose through the room, passing through enchantments and solid obsidian and the peak of the arena until the Circle gleamed below us. This time Melisande didn’t fight me, her insubstantial form sinking against my chest.
“Why didn’t you want to amend the agreement?” I couldn’t help myself. I had to know.
She looked down at the bloody Brightside of Dis. “I want my magic back. Even if it means leaving them for a day. A day is nothing compared to what I’ll gain.”
“‘Them’?”
Melisande threw me what might’ve been a sharp look. “Belial and… Tascius.”
I didn’t stiffen, despite my surprise. So my little Nephilim warmonger had gotten himself a taste of angel, too.
With the face of an archangel father and his Nephilim mother’s fury, it was no surprise that the fallen beauty in my arms would’ve been drawn to him. “He’s something, isn’t he?” No one could help but be impressed despite his lack of wings.
At darker times, I’d wondered which of the archangels had sired him. It was better for Tascius if he never knew.
“He told me what you did for him.” Melisande leaned her head against my shoulder, her gaze focused on the shaded half of Dis. “I didn’t know demons had it in themselves to be compassionate.”
“That’s because you’ve seen only the tiniest fraction of Hell.”
“And yet, I keep hearing stories,” she continued, like she hadn’t heard me at all. “Vyra tells me you gave up a portion of your own soul to save her life. Tascius tells me you took him from Acheron, saved his life, and gave him a home where he would excel at what he was best at. And now you’ve taken me, even though I’ve already promised to use everything I learn against you.” I felt her head turn, and she examined my ghostly form. “I don’t understand you, Azazel.”
I turned my face away, even though I knew she wouldn’t see anything but shadows and dust. “Maybe I just have a weakness for lost causes.”
She was silent as we passed the divide. I breathed a little easier once I was back in the cool shadows of the Nightside, even though the danger was no less here.
“I don’t think that’s true.”
“Then you’re left with one other option, even if you don’t like it.” A smile tugged my mouth. “That demons can be compassionate, and everything you thought you knew is wrong.”
She made a soft noise of contemplation. No wonder Lucifer couldn’t stay away when she was in Blackchapel. She wasn’t a hopeless case yet, unlike his other fallen brethren who’d put daggers through their own eyes before they even considered the possibility that falling wasn’t a death sentence.
I wondered how corrupt she would become, the further she sank into Hell and wove herself into its tapestry.
The Fields of Asphodel opened below us as we glided over the upper Circles, and Melisande sat up in my arms as we approached Blackchapel. A gold-and-silver figure perched on the roof, just hidden behind swirls of mist.
Of course he was already here.
I landed in the courtyard and released her. Melisande shimmered and became solid again, clutching her sheet around herself like armor. “I’m not training without real clothes,” she growled.
I prodded her inside the open doors to the cathedral. “Well, I don’t keep clothes out here, so you’ll have to go in.”
She strode inside, the sheets trailing on the ground behind her like a bridal train.
The doors swung shut, locking behind us. I rolled my shoulders, loosening up. “Now. If you want your clothes, you have to get through me.”
I stood between her and the hall to the rest of Blackchapel. Melisande gave me a dirty look, almost white-knuckling her sheets. “I should’ve guessed you wouldn’t make this easy.”
To be fair, I was really hoping she made it, and soon. The sheet was doing me no favors, either. Every inch of skin she’d been pressed against felt super-heated.
Surprisingly, she didn’t argu
e. The angel closed her eyes, mouth set.
Shadows and light rose from her hands, painting her skin in black and white shadows. She exhaled, breathing out curls of smoke.
I waited for her to collapse screaming, but she stayed upright, even though her limbs were trembling.
“Move,” she hissed, barreling towards the door. I stepped aside, letting her pass without getting raked by those shadow-claws.
She stopped dead in the doorway and swallowed the shadows, clenching her free hand and shaking the remnants of light loose.
Even without magic clinging to her skin, she still smelled like crushed flowers.
“I… I shut it down,” she said, holding up her hand and examining it like she expected it to be charred to a crisp.
“You did.” I pushed down my own surprise. Lucifer had been a quick study, too. “I wasn’t going to force you to train naked, Melisande.”
She gave me a suspicious look, gold eyes veiled.
“But I’d like it if you did.”
The hunger for her was a gnawing ache in my abdomen, sprouting roots that twined through my limbs and took over every rational thought. She met my gaze, licked her lips, and I forced myself not to vanish across the room and pin her to the wall.
The angel hesitated… then turned her back on me and swept away.
She came back half an hour later.
I was sitting cross-legged right where she’d left me, breathing in the shadows that clung to me like a second skin. Communing with them. They were me, and I was them.
I opened my eyes and found her crouched right in front of me, wearing some of the training clothes my sister had left for her. Vyra didn’t like to fly. It’d take her at least six hours to catch up to her charge and start dolling her up again.
“Why don’t you have wings?” Melisande demanded.
Her own wings rustled, like she was offended by the thought of a higher demon without them, or just plain disturbed.
“I did, once.” I didn’t miss them. Not when I had my shadows.