by Cate Corvin
I tore her away from me. She went flying, the vines growing from my hands chasing her down and holding her fast.
I got to my feet with a shuddering gasp and kicked her dagger away.
It was wrong to make her suffer. Better to make it quick, and less brutally than I’d killed her sister.
I raised my sword and slashed through her neck. Anakondra stiffened, and a moment later her head rolled from her shoulders, coming to a halt at the foot of the throne of bones.
My hands were trembling. I released my magic and lowered my sword as the rest of her fell to the floor.
“Sixth,” I whispered, and my gaze fell on Yraceli.
The Nephilim’s indifferent porcelain mask stared back at me. I had the distinct feeling that she was smiling behind it.
But I’d dwell on her tomorrow. There was something else I wanted now.
I flicked my blade, spattering Anakondra’s blood across the floor, and strode towards Belial’s chambers. The cheers of the demons ceased to exist when I caught his eye and crooked my finger.
Come, I mouthed.
His face was tight with exhilaration from the fight and anticipation for what came next… the final barrier between us crumbling, giving way to lust.
I dropped the sword on a rack as I passed, not looking back to see if he followed.
The stone of the hall responded to my touch, opening on Belial’s chambers. I’d barely taken a step inside the door when powerful hands snaked around my ribs, ripping open the seams of my leather corset.
My breath was faster now that it’d been when I was fighting. Every bit of awareness in my body focused on the bare skin his hands slid over, the hard cock digging into my ass.
I spun around, running my hands over his broad chest without shame. The tips of my silver claws opened the thinnest scratches on his chest.
I hoped they’d scar, marking me on him forever as well. A mark for a mark.
Belial let out a soft hiss and grabbed my hips, pulling me against him. “Deeper, angel,” he whispered, sending a shiver down my spine.
I only hesitated a moment before increasing the pressure, and blood welled from the scratches.
“That’s payback,” I whispered, and his claws slit my top open, exposing my breasts and hard nipples, and moved down to my pants. He hooked his thumbs in and slid them down inch by inch, going down to his knees.
My own knees almost buckled when he nudged them apart and buried his face between my legs, tongue sliding between my lips. I was already wet from anticipation, but Belial’s snarl of pleasure echoed through me, and I gripped his thick hair as he licked and sucked.
I wasn’t entirely sure how I made it out of the rest of my clothes, not when he was feasting on me like that.
The burgeoning heat in my stomach became a full inferno, and Belial wrapped his hands around the backs of my thighs, holding me fast. His tongue pushed inside me and my hips jerked forward like he’d electrocuted me.
He made a low noise, pushing deeper.
There was no point in being shy or coy with him. He knew why I wanted him here, and it wasn’t to push him away again.
I moved against him, my nails gripping his hair while I rode his mouth. He swirled his tongue over my clit, his lips wrapping around me to suck gently, and he glided his hands up my thighs to my stomach.
It felt like being worshipped.
And I wanted so much more of him than his mouth.
The pressure building in my abdomen threatened to overwhelm me, but it was almost impossible to pull his head back by his hair before I could come, letting out a gasp as I did it.
Belial rose to his full height, towering over me, and threw me onto the bed.
I bounced off the mattress when his considerable weight came down after me. He shed the rest of his clothes, his heavy cock hanging between his legs, and my heart pounded in my throat at the sight as he prowled towards me.
There was no way he was getting top. It was my night to celebrate.
I snapped my legs shut and gripped his shoulders, forcing him onto his back. He didn’t make it easy, a cruel grin in place while I worked for it. When his shoulder blades finally hit the sheets, I straddled him, and the hot, silky length of him slid against my pussy.
I braced my hands on his chest and arched my hips until I felt the thick head push inside me. For a moment I was afraid it would hurt, but he pushed upwards with a groan and his cock slid in, burying himself to the base.
I tensed as my body adjusted to the sudden pressure. When I rocked forward my clit rubbed against the dense muscle of his lower stomach, and I jerked backwards before-
“Get your ass back here,” he growled, grabbing my wrists and pulling me forward again with a wicked smile. “Sinners come first.”
With those pretty aqua eyes on my face and his abs flexing under my hands, I thrust against his narrow hips, grinding my clit until my breath hitched and my heart nearly stopped. A wave of heat swept over me when I came, tightening around him as my thrusts became a wild bucking.
“No,” I gasped around my moans. “I’m not fucking done with you.”
Belial pushed into me, drawing out the orgasm when his cock hit a place I hadn’t been aware even existed. “Sinners come twice, angel.”
He lifted me off him when my pussy stopped spasming and forced me onto my hands and knees. I rose to grip the edge of the headboard as Belial knelt behind me, running his hands over my ass.
I groaned when he pounded in, slamming into already-tender flesh, and braced myself to take his forceful thrusts. My entire body shook under his assault, ass bouncing off his Adonis belt.
A crack filled the air as a stinging slap landed across my ass. All of my nerves lit up, the pain rushing through me and raising prickling goosebumps on my skin.
But all that sensation came right back to the cock pounding into me, my clit aching again. There’d be a red handprint emblazoned on my skin like a brand.
“One brand wasn’t enough?” I snarled, and Belial laughed, his fingers digging into my hips and slamming me down on his cock.
He sat back on his heels, bringing me with him. “Fuck me, angel,” he commanded, but his voice was raspy under the amusement in his tone.
I obeyed, sliding up and down his pumping cock. He slid an arm around me, gripping my throat and pulling me back against him, and his other hand went to my clit.
A moan escaped me when he lightly pinched my clit, his thumb running over it with every stroke. I felt myself tightening again, the fire growing deeper this time.
Belial growled in my ear, the rumble of it vibrating from his chest through mine. I closed my eyes, focused entirely on how deep he buried himself in my pussy.
His hips snapped upwards. I shivered in his grasp, my hands wrapped around the muscular forearm holding my throat, and forced myself down harder. His fingers matched the pressure, sliding over my clit until I was shaking.
Every muscle in his body was tight against me. It was like being caged in the grasp of a wild animal.
When his cock hardened, pulsing deep inside me, I came again before he could speak. I ground against him, screaming out loud as the orgasm crashed through me. Stars burst behind my eyelids, nerves singing as the fire roared over my skin, and Belial let out a rough grunt when he stiffened and went over the edge, releasing himself deep in my pussy.
I fell forward onto the bed and he covered me with his body, still pumping as he drew out the orgasm for both of us. My breath was ragged, stirring strands of his hair against my face.
By sheer force of will, I opened my eyes, and stiffened again in shock.
The sheets weren’t just black anymore. They were charred, practically shredding under my fingers.
“Belial-” I craned my head to look upwards. The fire hadn’t been imaginary at all. “You burned down the entire damn bed.”
He groaned against my back, still arched over me and buried deep. “Because I came so fucking hard. Blame it on that delicious pussy of yours.”<
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His hands slid up to cup my breasts, teasing my still-hard nipples. I blew out a breath, too wiped out to move. “Too bad. It was such a nice bed.”
“I’ll get another, and we can burn that one down, too.” Belial slid out of me and rolled me over in the ashen remains.
I licked my lips, and he took the hint and kissed me, tracing my lips with the tip of his tongue. My hand drifted up to wrap around his shoulders.
My marks were still on him. I wondered if he was suppressing his healing ability to keep them there, given how fast archdemons healed.
I traced them lightly. “I want these to stay right where they are. They suit you.”
“They stay.” Belial kissed my throat, already working his way to my nipples. “Every mark you put on me stays.”
Before he picked me up to carry me to his shower, I glanced at my branded palm, the swirling sigil written there.
The subtext was clear. If my marks on him remained…
His mark remained, too.
31
Tascius
Most people, even demons, didn’t want to get too friendly with monsters.
Leave it to one of the two fallen angels in Hell to decide that being friends with monsters was her modus operandi.
I dragged my hands over my face, expression screwed up as I forced the mind-devouring darkness to the back of my skull. My brain cleared bit by bit. Soon I was almost able to think clearly, my limbs back under my control.
I opened my eyes and looked down at my hands.
They were covered in blood. The drying liquid settled into the fine lines on my palms, pooled around my fingernails.
A deep exhale sent pain zipping through my tight back. The scars where my wings had been were aching again.
At least killing the bastard in the ring tonight had sated the primal rage inherent to all Nephilim. I shuddered as I took another breath despite the pain in my back.
One day, killing wouldn’t be enough, and Melisande was going to walk in at the wrong time.
I just hoped I’d still be able to recognize her.
She might be in love with the idea of monsters, but I didn’t want her to see me like this, slicked with drying blood like crackle-glaze pottery and dripping sweat.
I half-walked, half-limped to the bathroom and flicked on the shower, shedding the last of my shredded clothes. Minutes ago, the simple movements would’ve sent jabs of pain through my limbs, especially the arm that had been yanked out of its socket, but my half-breed heritage had the useful trait of being nearly fucking unstoppable.
I stretched my arms over my head, and only the slightest ache remained.
The water washed away my last act of vengeance, pooling red around my feet. It was the sixth fight.
Next week I’d throw it and start the whole cycle over again.
I exhaled, blowing out water with my breath, and heard the door open and shut.
There was a rustle of cloth, and hands ran over my shoulders, soothing the ache in my scars.
“You’re going to do it again, aren’t you?” She didn’t sound accusing or angry, just resigned.
I turned and looked down into gold-and-blue eyes. Mist beaded on her face and in her hair. She had no idea what it was like, after a friendless century, to have someone to care about.
It was almost a terrible feeling. I finally had something to lose.
Life was much easier when you were the only one you had to care about.
“It’s better this way.” She’d never seen Acheron. She had no idea what it was like.
Melisande rose onto her tiptoes and laced her hands behind my neck. “If we’re both free, we could stay together. You’d have me.”
I licked water off my lips, noticing how her eyes tracked the movement, but said nothing.
“I know you’re not afraid of what they’d do to you,” she said. The slightest hint of anger crept into her tone. “They’d do nothing. You could murder half of Hell with one hand tied behind your back.”
I couldn’t help but smile a little. “I could.” With the potential cost of losing myself entirely.
“So why stay? Loyalty to Belial isn’t enough to keep yourself caged here.”
I was exiled for more than just my mother’s sacrifice for my safety. But this angel who’d given me one of her feathers, marking me as hers, wouldn’t understand yet. She couldn’t. “Melisande… did you consider that maybe I’m not caged for myself, but for them?”
She stared up at me, her brow furrowed.
“You don’t see Nephilim roaming the streets of Dis. I’m not kept away from them. They’re kept away from me.” I touched her slightly-pouting mouth. “Because I could murder half of Hell with one hand tied behind my back.”
She shook her head, her frown becoming a stormy scowl. “You could… I could help you. If you need to fight, if you need to f… if you need to fuck.”
My smile grew wider, even though I was anything but amused. She still stuttered over dirty words.
“And what if the day comes that I don’t recognize you anymore? What if I ripped through one of the Circles and you tried to help me… and you were next?” The thought made my chest tighten. “It’s not predictable. It’s madness, Melisande. I’m not myself when I’m in that state, and I wouldn’t know you if it took my mind entirely. Even if I did manage to come back, I couldn’t live with knowing what I’d done to my only friend.”
She opened her mouth and shut it again. The water beading on her face looked like tears rolling down her cheeks.
“It’s safer for everyone if I’m here,” I said, wrapping my arms around her. She rested her head on my chest, her hair growing dark as water soaked into it.
“Then I’ll chain you to myself if that’s what it takes.” I felt her lips move against my skin. “You can cage yourself in my arena and at least lock yourself away with me.”
“Oh, you have an arena now?” I asked lightly. It was pointless to argue. I couldn’t go. Not unless I wanted to risk becoming a danger to everyone and everything around me.
“I will. I’m going to make a bet with Belial.”
Her fanbase had grown at unprecedented rates. Usually it took years for a gladiator to generate the kind of support the demons had shown her.
They all thought she’d fallen like Lucifer, rallying around the next dark queen of Hell.
But of them all, the fanatics gave me pause. Whatever sect they came from, they were demons who meant business, and their blind allegiance was cause enough for concern.
But first, she needed to defeat Yraceli. I’d never seen it done.
I had seen the remains she’d left behind.
“If I’m going to kill Satan, I need power. Belial can give that to me if I win.”
I hugged her a little tighter. “Little friend, you’re incredibly frustrating, you know that?”
Melisande looked up at me with a mischievous smile. “I know. I count on it.”
“You can’t fight Yraceli. If you stay with Belial, he’ll protect you. He’ll be your shield, and you’ll have me.”
I didn’t even mention Satan. The odds that we’d ever get our hands on the Sword of Light- or its as-yet-nonexistent polar opposite- were slim to none.
Melisande drew back, her arms stiff. “I can, and I will. You’re both Nephilim. So tell me- what do I have to do to kill her?”
I sighed and yanked the shower cord, shutting off the water, and wrapped her in a towel. She flicked water off her wings and climbed into my bed, arms wide open and inviting.
I toweled off and climbed in, trying not to focus on how much I wanted to fuck her when she was over here planning a suicide mission. Or the jealousy I felt at the sight of how easily she moved her wings, wings I’d always been missing and still felt like phantom limbs.
She wriggled over and stretched herself across my chest, those inky feathers blocking out the light.
When I shifted beneath her, pain rippled across my shoulder blades. My mate caught the look on my f
ace before I could hide it.
“Your scars hurt,” she murmured. “Flip over.”
I complied and she climbed on my back, running her fingers over my skin over and over in soothing, almost hypnotic motions.
At least she’d dropped the subjects of Yraceli and Satan. As my mate, it was my responsibility to put my foot down when she was going in over her head.
And at least one of those opponents was way, way the fuck over her head.
I hissed when her fingers hit a tender spot. These old scars ached more than a fresh wound ever would.
“Tell me about Acheron,” she suggested, trying to distract me from the pain. “Tell me about your life.”
I crossed my arms under my head to form a pillow, closing my eyes. The ache receded to a distant shore as she touched me.
“It’s a prison. An entire city living inside a glass bubble. And it’s nothing but chaos and violence. The untwisted Nephilim locked themselves in their towers centuries ago, and the twisted ones chip away at them bit by bit. I remember seeing a tiny slice of sky when I was a child. My wings were bound with ropes to keep them under my clothes, and my mother put bars over the windows so I could sit and look outside.”
Melisande’s stroking touch continued, lulling me down the paths of memory.
“We were high enough that she didn’t worry about me being seen, as long as my wings were hidden. The smog inside the dome was so thick that on some days, all I could see was the lights of other towers, twinkling through the fog like distant stars. But once it cleared, just a little. I saw a line of bright blue between the towers and asked her what it was.
“She said it was the sky, and that was where my father had come from. Then the factories started churning and the smog filled the air. I never saw the sky again until the night she traded me to Azazel.”
The angel leaned forward, her weight shifting against my lower back. “Did you ever fly?” Her voice was husky.
“Never.” My skin prickled at the memory of waking to white-hot agony, the hot, bright pool of blood spreading across the floor. The ragged stumps my mother had tended for months, silently crying every time she cleaned the slow-healing wounds.