Cipher: A Demonica Underworld Novella

by Larissa Ione

  “What about Bael?” He made a gesture that encompassed the glazed ice walls of his cell. “Did he lock you up in the Hellton hotel?”

  Lyre almost laughed. If Cipher thought this was bad, he should see the prison where Bael kept the people he didn’t want to work for him. His true enemies. People who he thought might have slighted or cheated him. People who looked at him the wrong way. The suffering that radiated from the mountain complex fueled entire villages of demons who thrived on the pain of others.

  This, the Hellton, as Cipher called it, was downright luxurious in comparison.

  “I was never imprisoned,” she said, surprised she hadn’t told him this before.

  They’d talked a lot over the last couple of months, keeping the conversation light as she tried to pry information out of him about Azagoth’s realm. Cipher had always deftly shifted the topic away from Sheoul-gra, but in truth, she hadn’t minded. She’d been stuck in Bael’s territory for years, prevented from leaving by a magical barrier that wouldn’t allow her to flash, walk, or take a Harrowgate out. Cipher’s stories had given her a tiny sense of freedom in a place where all she knew were shackles.

  “I knew of Bael because I’d studied him as an angel,” she continued. “I came to him for employment. Now, let me heal you.”

  He backed up so fast he hit the wall. “I said no.”

  “You’ve let me do it before.”

  His gaze dropped to his erection, just for a second, and her heart skipped a beat. He’d been naked in front her before, but he’d never been...aroused. Was that Flail’s angle? Had he been traumatized sexually and she was trying to exploit his pain?

  As an angel Lyre would have proceeded from here carefully, with tact and sensitivity. As a fallen angel she didn’t have to do any of that. Hell, she could use that little suspected tidbit of information like an instrument of torture the way Flail seemed to be.

  She chose to just be blunt. “Is it sex? Is sex your trauma? I wouldn’t have guessed that.”

  “What? Are you kidding?” He looked horrified by the very thought. “Sex is awesome. I just don’t want to have sex with her. Talk about trauma.” He glanced down at his erection again. “But this won’t go away, and my blood...burns.”

  “Oh.” Well, this was awkward. “Um...I’m not entirely sure how Flail’s ability works, but I think it takes a couple of hours for the pain to subside.” Her gaze fell to his hips, where the thick column of engorged flesh curved upward, the glossy tip nearly touching his hard abs. Sweet baby Lucifer, that was impressive. “Or, you could, ah...”

  Her cheeks flushed with heat, which was ridiculous, given that she was a couple of centuries old and a fallen angel. She’d watched orgies before, and she couldn’t tell Cipher to jerk off?

  I so want to see that.

  The heat in her face spread to her breasts and pelvis, and she shifted uncomfortably.

  “I could what?” He leveled his sharp gaze at her, so intense it took her breath. All his focus was on her. He didn’t even seem to be in pain anymore. “I could...” He grasped his shaft, his long fingers wrapping around the thick length. “Take care of it myself?” His fist made a slow pass from the head to the base and back up, and her throat clogged with lust. “Or I could fuck you instead?”

  “Of course not, you worm!” she said. Silently. In her head. Where Cipher didn’t hear it.

  Suddenly, he was on her, knocking her back against the door.

  She hadn’t even seen him move. Her first instinct as he bit into her throat and pressed that enormous erection into her belly was to hit him so hard that even the wings he’d lost would feel it. But when the erotic purr in his chest reached her ears, her body betrayed her.

  Months of watching this magnificent creature perform in the arena and stand up to every form of torture thrown at him had put the tiniest chip in the wall she’d erected when she’d lost everything and everyone she’d loved. On the day she’d lost her wings, she’d sworn off love and friendship, tenderness and compassion, and then she’d let evil in, hoping it would fill the empty space inside. Her anger had been, and still was, a shield, protecting her from the cruel reality in which she now lived.

  But now, for the first time since she’d fallen, there was a pleasant distraction from the perpetual misery of Sheoul. A distraction who, as coincidence would have it, could help her get revenge.

  You need to step up your game, Lyre. I expected more from you.

  Bael’s words from yesterday in the arena rang in her ears. Shuddering, she clung to Cipher, her nails digging into his rock-hard biceps as if holding him close would block the memory of Bael showing her how much more he expected by chaining—literally chaining—her to his side until this morning. She’d witnessed how he did everything from getting a blow job to taking a shit to skinning an Oni demon alive, so yeah, she saw what happened to those who disappointed him. He didn’t handle failure well.

  And she had a head full of disturbing memories to process.

  Buck up, girl. You can dissect your trauma later. You’re working with a ticking clock right now.

  She had to get Cipher to give Bael what he wanted, and she had to do it before Flail did it. Because even if Cipher didn’t break in the arena, he would break eventually. Everyone did. The question was who got credit for it.

  Lyre needed the credit. Maybe Bael would finally give her the freedom to leave the realm now and then.

  Resolved to this course of action, which really wasn’t a hardship, she let her head roll to the side so he could deepen his bite, and the rush...oh, yes, the rush was incredible. She’d never been fed on before, had never had anyone ask. No one wanted to feed on a weakling like her. And as a weakling, she didn’t even need to feed much. When she did, she fed from humans after being escorted to the earthly realm by other fallen angels who never seemed happy to have to babysit.

  During the time she’d been Cipher’s handler she could have taken his vein at any time. It hadn’t even occurred to her.

  Now it was on her to-do list.

  Adrenaline rushed through her veins like erotic fuel as Cipher’s lips and tongue ravaged her neck. More of this. She needed much, much more of this.

  Heart pounding so hard Cipher surely must have felt it against his teeth, she slid her hand between their bodies. His warm skin twitched as the backs of her fingers slid across his steel-hard abs, and his breath hitched as her thumb brushed the underside of his shaft.

  Her own breath lodged in her throat. She’d never done this before. She and Dailon had been interrupted before they could consummate their love on the physical plane.

  Anger at the stupid sentimental glitch roared back, and she roughly took Cipher’s cock in her palm. There was nothing to wait for. No prince in angelic armor was going to sweep her into the pillowy embrace of his wings and gently take her maidenhood.

  She lived in Hell now. Gang rape or having her virginity sold to the highest bidder for use in some sort of power spell were the more likely scenarios if it ever got out that she was a virgin. She might as well make it happen on her own terms and now was as good a time as any.

  Besides, it was only a matter of time before Bael forced her into his bed. Honestly, she couldn’t believe he hadn’t already.

  She squeezed Cipher’s shaft, and his gasp of pleasure created an unexpected throb of need deep in her belly.

  Stop it.

  This was a task. A means to an end. Not a meaningful exploration of her sexuality or some crap.

  Oh, but it felt so good.

  She squeezed again, adding a slow pump of her fist. Cipher shuddered and rocked into her hand.

  A low moan dredged up from his chest as he lifted his head from her throat. “Hurts,” he whispered.

  She froze, then hastily released him. “I’m sorry—”

  “No.” His big hand closed around hers and guided it back to his shaft. “Not that.” He shuddered again. “That is the only thing that feels good. The only thing in...months.”

  S
adness mingled with the pain in his voice, and her heart clenched.

  No. No clenching of hearts. She was doing this for a purpose.

  If she gave Cipher what he wanted, maybe he’d give her what she wanted.

  Information.

  And, of course, an orgasm.

  * * * *

  Pain. There was so. Much. Pain.

  Even with Flail gone, Cipher’s pain was still crippling. It was as if every cell was being alternately crushed then sliced, cycling over and over, with breaks only when he’d willingly moved closer to either Flail or Lyre. Resisting meant that someone dialed up the pain intensity.

  But worse than the pain was the desire. The ball-throbbing, dick-tingling, soul-crushing desire to bury himself first in Flail, and now Lyre.

  At least Lyre hadn’t betrayed him. He didn’t completely hate her. And she was hot.

  He’d fucked worse.

  Probably shouldn’t say that out loud. Or think on it too much. Didn’t say anything good about him, that was for sure.

  Whatever. He was just glad Lyre was here instead of Flail.

  How had Lyre gotten in here, anyway? He hadn’t seen the door open.

  And why the fuck was he thinking about random shit when he should be concentrating on how Lyre’s hot blood circulated through his body and her warm hand pumped along his shaft, the only real heat he’d felt since he’d been dragged to Sheoul. It spread across his skin and into his muscles all over his body, and for the first time in forever, misery wasn’t the only thing he was feeling.

  “Just like that,” he rasped as he thrust into her grip.

  He wanted to haul her legs up around his waist and take her, right against the door. She’d let him; he could tell by the way she rocked into him, the way her breathing came fast and hard, the way the scent of her arousal wrapped around him like satin. But then she did some kind of twisty thing as she squeezed him from the base of his cock to the head...and he was done.

  He threw his head back and shouted as the climax hit him, a giant, rolling wave of pleasure that, for the briefest moment, made him forget everything shitty in his life. More waves followed, weaker, just lapping at his pleasure centers as he came down.

  Then someone in a nearby cell screamed, jolting him out of his bubble of bliss and reminding him where he was. Reminding him that pleasure was nothing but an illusion in Bael’s prison, a sick joke, a fleeting sliver of time meant to make you hate normal life even more.

  God, he hated it here. This was why few Unfallen angels willingly entered Sheoul to complete their fall from grace. Most of them lived a nomadic life, constantly fleeing those who would capture and drag them into Sheoul, just as Cipher had done. He’d spent a couple of decades on the run, hiding in the human realm in the guise of a homeless man, until he’d run into Hawkyn.

  Unlike the last time he’d seen Hawkyn, the Memitim hadn’t tried to kill him for what Cipher had done to his Primori. Instead, Hawk had offered him sanctuary. Well, he’d offered it after an epic battle in which they’d beaten the shit out of each other in a good old-fashioned fistfight.

  Life had been good in Sheoul-gra. He’d rarely had to leave, and when he did, he was usually with powerful friends.

  Unfortunately, he’d let down his guard. He’d taken one too many risks, had gotten too far from his friends during a battle, and now he was paying for his mistakes.

  He might be reckless, but he wasn’t an idiot. He knew this could only go one of two ways. He’d either give in and join Bael’s team, or he’d die an agonizing death, only to be fully conscious moments later as his soul found itself at Bael’s mercy. Would Bael use it as a plaything? Perhaps trap it inside Cipher’s preserved body, put on display while he slowly went mad? Or maybe Bael would keep it as an offering to Satan on the day the King of Demons was released from his prison.

  Cipher knew which option was the most likely. Even now he could feel evil seeping into his very cells, darkening his outlook, his sense of humor. Oh, sure, there was always a chance that he could escape and get back to Sheoul-gra, but the reality was that he had only one choice to make.

  Pledge fealty to Bael now...or pledge fealty to him later.

  Either way, Cipher would give up the list and betray everyone he cared about.

  They don’t care about you. Flail’s voice rang in his head, tapping into his fears. You’ve been gone too long. They think you’ve gone to the dark side already. They’ve given up.

  No way. They hadn’t. They wouldn’t. If he could get out of here, they’d welcome him back in Sheoul-gra.

  He just needed a plan. A way to contact them.

  But to contact them, he’d need his computer. To escape he needed his fallen angel powers. To get his fallen angel powers he needed his wings to be unbound.

  There was only one way that was going to happen. He had to give Bael what he wanted.

  The scream rang out again, the prod he needed to get his shit together.

  Awkwardly, he stepped away from Lyre, grabbed his blanket, and used it to clean up. “Uh, sorry...” He stopped himself before he said anything else. Why should he apologize? Lyre was his fucking captor. Well, she was employed by his captor, anyway.

  “Did it help?” She sounded breathy. Turned on. And despite the fact that he’d just come and he was in a prison in Hell’s asshole, he started to get hard again.

  “Did what help what?”

  She huffed as if he was a complete idiot. “Is the pain gone?”

  “Oh. Yeah.” But he wasn’t sure if he felt better thanks to the nourishment her blood gave him or because of the sex. Maybe both.

  He looked down at his chest. Blood still streaked his skin, but the ascerdisc wound had sealed and was only a little tender. His wings still hurt, strangled by ensorcelled rope, but that was nothing new.

  She started toward him. “Cipher—”

  “Ooh, hey, watch your step.”

  She did a jaunty little hop to avoid slipping on the result of her hand action, and he hid a smile at the way her cheeks turned pink. “Thanks.”

  “Don’t thank me. I warned you before I had a chance to consider how hilarious it would be if you fell in my jizz.” Why had he warned her, anyway? Should have let her break her ass on the ice.

  But it was such a nice ass.

  “You know tomorrow’s going to be worse, right?” she asked, sounding a little flustered. “Flail is probably drafting invitations right now.”

  She’s going to crack the shield you’ve got around you, and evil is going to pour in and turn you into someone your friends and family won’t recognize. And then you’ll willingly give up the list Bael wants. But if you give me the list, you won’t have to go through the hell Flail will put you through. You can hold on to your sanity and yourself for a while. Let the effects of being in Sheoul seep into you gradually instead of pouring in like a dam breaking.

  As much as Cipher hated to admit it, Lyre’s words made sense. And if he’d been here for seven months, like Flail said...yes, this might work.

  He tossed the blanket aside. “If I give Bael the list, he’ll unbind my wings, right?”

  “That’s the deal.”

  “Then bring me my laptop.” He paused. “And some clothes. Real clothes. And a shower would be great.”

  Lyre jerked like she was a marionette and someone had yanked her strings. “Are you serious?”

  “I’m covered in blood and I’m naked. What do you think?”

  “No, I mean the list.” Her silver eyes were wide, glinting with surprise. “You’re willing to give Bael the names he wants?”

  Hearing her say it out loud made his gut churn. If he was right about this, he could buy time to escape without anyone getting hurt. If he was wrong, Azagoth’s wrath would make Bael’s cruelty seem downright merciful.

  And so, with a deep breath and a silent prayer to anyone who would listen, he nodded.

  “Yeah,” he growled. “I am.”

  Chapter Six

  “Ever seen the in
side of a soul?”

  Azagoth frowned at the speaker over the rim of his highball glass filled with Scotch. “You’re kidding, right?” He lowered the glass to his desktop. “You’re asking me, the Grim Reaper, a fallen angel who hasn’t found a new thing to do with a soul in at least two centuries, if I’ve ever seen what’s inside one?”

  Jim Bob, an angel whose real name and identity Azagoth didn’t know, shrugged, making the hem of his hooded black robe whisper against his boots. “Supposedly, most souls are filled with light. But what about the souls you keep in the Inner Sanctum?”

  This was a weird conversation, but Azagoth couldn’t work up the energy to be annoyed by something so minor. Not when big shit was going on all around him. Big enough that he’d been scattered and sleepless and distracted for days.

  Last week, one of his sons, a boy barely in his teens whom Azagoth had only just met, had been murdered inside Sheoul-gra.

  Inside Sheoul fucking Gra.

  The bastard responsible for Niclas’s death hadn’t yet been identified, but he—or she—would be. Azagoth wouldn’t rest until he knew who had dared to kill one of his children inside his own realm and right under his nose.

  One thing of which he was certain: whoever it was, they weren’t working alone.

  Three of his grown children, trained, powerful Memitim, had also been slaughtered recently, and just this morning he’d learned that, without a doubt, the deaths were connected.

  The remains of the demon who’d delivered the message were still splattered on the wall, and his soul was in Hades’s capable, cruel hands.

  That demon’s soul was definitely not brimming with light.

  “Most of the souls I deal with are full of blackness,” Azagoth replied. Since not all demons were evil, some didn’t possess a dark inner void, and a rare handful even radiated light.

  Jim Bob walked slowly around the office, his gaze settling on the splatter. “When a good soul full of light is destroyed, the light returns to the Creator unless the soul is trapped, devoured, or used as fuel for a spell. What happens when an evil soul full of darkness is destroyed?”