End of Eden (Se7en Sinners Book 2)

by S. L. Jennings

  Just the mention of his name makes me feel hollow again, despite my full belly. I want to turn back, to run from this place and pretend morbid curiosity isn’t eating away at me like acid. It would all be lies anyway. Lucifer will only show me what he wants me to see. But then again, he wasn’t really lying in that damp basement, was he? He sliced me open with truth as Legion watched on in horror while bound in angel venom.

  Maybe Lucifer was right. Maybe Legion is the true deceiver in all this. I wanted to believe in something so badly that I probably would have fallen for anything. Maybe I’ve had faith in the wrong thing all along.

  “Show me.”

  Lucifer smiles in that way that’s equal parts evil and sex, and twists the handle.

  The room is lit only by dozens of candles, as if it is a ritual room, much like the one the Se7en has. However, there’s no star carved in the floor or pillars housing blood-jeweled daggers. Instead, there are books. Ancient tombs are meticulously shelved on three of the four walls. In the middle of the room, there is a book as large as a nightstand, situated on a white marble podium. Three-foot tall pillar candles stand on either side of it. I glance up at Lucifer who gives me a nod of encouragement before cautiously approaching it.

  “The Holy Bible,” he remarks, as I study the worn leather binding.

  I shoot him a sideways glance. “Why would you have a shrine for the Bible?”

  He shrugs. “Why wouldn’t I? I am a main character after all.”

  Lucifer steps forward and gently runs his fingers over the cover before opening the massive book. He flips through the parchment with ease, not an ounce of hesitation or uncertainty in his movements. No sounds of sizzling flesh. No bursting of flames.

  “Eden, do you know the story of Legion, as it is written in the Bible?”

  I peer down at the page Lucifer has turned to. The book of Mark.

  “I do.”

  “Do you? Because what this story fails to tell you is what really happened all those centuries ago. It was not just men he tormented. Women. Children. Entire villages. He made them into monsters that reveled in death and destruction. They burnt family homes to ash. They raped daughters and slaughtered sons. All that cruelty and chaos only made Legion stronger.”

  I lift my eyes from the text, not seeing the words. “That was a long time ago. And don’t pretend he wasn’t doing your bidding.”

  “Legion has never done my bidding. He was my brother. My equal. But he didn’t want the responsibility and the notoriety. He was only after one thing.”

  “And what’s what?” I ask, my voice a choked whisper.

  “Vengeance.”

  “Vengeance?” I turn to him and frown. “For what?”

  Lucifer closes the book and strolls towards the only wall not housed with bookcases. Instead, there appears to be a mural painted there, spanning at least twenty feet long and fifteen feet tall. It resembles a map, but it’s not of any country I’ve ever known of. And among the jagged lines and textures lies a story.

  “What is this?” I ask, my eyes eager to take it all in. It’s just so much…depictions of demons and angels, even men. The artist painted with great depth, yet it is not a beautiful piece. So much bloodshed and strife, each scene darker than the next. Even if I studied it for hours, I couldn’t even begin to digest its gravity. How could any being—immortal or no—live through such pain?

  “It is the Beginning, the spark that created your world. Man was birthed for one purpose: to live for God. To worship Him and Him only. To breathe only for His grace. You were made to be mortal puppets, He the ultimate puppet master. But while you were created in His perfect image, you were not perfect. You were designed to fail. And in that failure, you would beg—grovel—for His forgiveness. And our merciful Father would grant that forgiveness so long as your faith in Him was unshakeable. Unfortunately, some of us were not deemed worthy enough to receive the same grace.

  “When we fell, we created sin. We disrupted God’s plan. We gave people the ability to choose, to change, to think freely. To feel every emotion so deeply and drastically. We created humanity. Faith was no longer unshakeable. You were allowed to question it all, as we had tried to do in Heaven. And I made it so that you were not abandoned. You could live and think and feel without Him. You could belong to something, be cherished by someone that would not judge you for merely being human.”

  I turn and blink at him, failing to keep the shock from my features. “You’re lying.”

  He shakes his head. “You know I’m not. Why do you think He allows sin? He could stop me, you know. He could smite me where I stand. But where is He? He’s much too proud to admit that I’m a problem. That I’m significant enough for His time and energy. So instead of saving your world, He’d rather pretend I am of no importance. He’d rather let you all suffer than admit that I am a challenge for Him.”

  I glance up at Lucifer to find his impassive gaze pinned on the mural. If it weren’t for the edge of his tone, I would think he is completely unaffected…unfeeling. But no one escapes condemnation unscathed. Even he, in all his retched beauty and malevolent power, is susceptible of the emotional scars of rejection.

  “Why are you telling me this?” I whisper, still staring at his profile.

  “Because I want you to understand. I want you to see that I, too, know what it feels like to be cast aside and forgotten. When Legion and I fell, it was not for the deceitful promises of pleasure and iniquity. We had been changing for some time—many of us were. And instead of accepting that change, let alone embracing it, our Father shunned us. Shamed us.

  “I took it in stride…let it motivate me to build my empire. Legion let his pain and rage consume him. He killed for sport, tortured out of boredom. He released pestilence and sparked wars simply because he could. He was beautiful, strong beyond measure and fueled by his deep-seated hatred. I never pretended not to take joy in the pain and suffering of others. But Legion…no one was innocent in his eyes. He wanted to destroy God’s plan, and everything in it. And no one could stop him. Not even me.”

  “So how did he stop?”

  Finally, Lucifer turns to look at me, wearing his usual guise of a smile. I now see it’s a lie. Not for me, but for himself. “One of life’s mysteries, I’m afraid. Just one day…he grew a conscious. Then came the guilt and remorse, so strong that it nearly killed him. He fled, taking a few of my best soldiers with him, claiming that he would right all the wrongs he inflicted.” He cocks a cunning brow. “Or maybe not. Maybe this is all part of his plan. Walk amongst the humans. Create a team of trained assassins. Gain the trust of a naïve, lonely girl that would do anything for him, even at the expense of her own mortality. His long lost love, Adriel, was just the icing on the cake.”

  My face heats with humiliation as I struggle to keep the vengeful tears at bay. It’s not true, I tell myself. He’s lying. But as my head and my heart wage war inside my trembling frame, I know that at least a part of what Lucifer says is true. I’m just too far gone to decipher fact from fiction.

  “I’d like to go back to my room,” I state turning towards the exit. I don’t wait for permission. I don’t even pause to let him lead me back to the sitting room. I need to escape this place and his knowing gaze and the mural painted in death. Not when I can see myself so easily among the violence and carnage.

  Lucifer doesn’t speak the entire journey back to my quarters, and I’m grateful. My throat it so tight with unshed sobs that I wouldn’t be able to respond anyway. When he drops me off, leaving me with a promise to see me for dinner, I swear I see a smug smile grace his lips before he turns to walk away.

  He knows he’s won this round. And I didn’t even put up a fight.

  Dinner is a dense fog.

  Another tight-fitting dress. More rich, luscious foods. And more raucous ramblings from Lucifer’s little band of misfits. Nikolai has resigned to his role of asshole bestie while the three sexed up vixens giggle at every fucking thing Lucifer says. I swear, he can’t ev
en chew and swallow without them fawning at his leather loafered feet. Luckily, I only have to sit through three courses of their pathetic groveling instead of six.

  “Are you enjoying your scallops, Eden?” Lucifer asks casually, as if he didn’t drop an atomic truth bomb on me earlier today. I spent the better part of the afternoon sinking even further in self-doubt and confusion. I knew Legion was one of Hell’s big bads. I just didn’t know how bad he was. And what his true intentions were.

  I nod and muster up what feels like a polite smile. For all I know, I could be grimacing. “Yes. Thank you.”

  “Good. I’ve got something special planned for dessert.”

  Blood drains from my face. “Another surprise?”

  An elegant hand rests on top of mine for just a second. “Do not fret. Tonight is all about pleasure. No punishments to exact, I promise.”

  I quickly yank my hand away and hide it under the table. “That’s…good to know.” But even his promise does nothing to ease the sick feeling in my gut, and I spend the remainder of the meal pushing food around my plate.

  Some time after dessert plates are cleared, Lucifer’s unholy trinity excuse themselves to a back room, only to return wearing next to nothing. Scraps of patent leather barely cover their nipples and lower lady bits. Each of them is holding a leash, and attached to the other ends are three naked captives—two men and a woman. Wrists bound and mouths stuffed with ball gags, they shuffle forward on their knees, struggling to keep up with their obscenely-dressed mistresses. The only thing that keeps me from booking it to my room is the fact they seem willing—excited even. Like they signed up to be debased and humiliated.

  Lucifer’s dark angels stop before us, each of them wearing sly smiles as they toy with their chain-link leashes.

  “Tonight,” one begins—Amanda, I think.

  “Isn’t just about pleasure,” Sandra continues.

  “It’s also about…” Christina chimes in.

  “Pain,” the three of them say, their voices perfectly synced.

  Pain? My head jerks to Lucifer, who unsurprisingly is looking at me, as if he was waiting for my reaction.

  “But you said…”

  “Shhh. It’s alright,” Lucifer coos, his voice dripping with velvety condescension. “They want this—you’ll see.”

  And I do see. More than I need to.

  The girls start their show by commanding the three slaves to kiss the toe of their thigh high boots. Innocent enough. Then they move on to the kinkier stuff—a few slaps on their asses with paddles, a couple whips of their riding crops. They even broke out the nipple clamps. All very bootleg BDSM, and I have to admit, I’m disappointed. I expected more from Satan’s harlots. Not a page out of some amateur erotica novel or a Skinemax flick.

  But then things get…darker.

  The color drains from my face when the three women fasten massive strap-ons and slather them with clear goop. And when they start to fuck them—hard—I feel the first tastes of bile at the back of my throat. But their captives seem to enjoy it. Love it, even. They beg for more and more, and with this night being all about pleasure, the women are just too happy to oblige.

  But what really disgusts me is the fire that seems to roar in my belly, setting my extremities aflame. I feel the heat in my cheeks, sweeping across my chest and painting streaks of rose on my goose-pimpled skin. My tongue blazes with the need to taste their passion, my mouth salivating with desire.

  I hate that I feel this way. I hate that just looking at them makes me squirm with longing. I’m sickened by the way it turns me on to see grown men whimpering as their bodies are filled with long, rigid silicone cocks.

  I squeeze my thighs together to stifle the burn. My sex trembles at the applied friction and I bite my lip to keep my own moans at bay. Mesmerized, I don’t even blink until Christina barks out a command, causing everyone to shift into different positions. And then…I nearly lose it.

  She slides her plastic cock into one of the men, who then enters the other male from behind. The second man spreads the thighs of the female captive and buries himself inside her dripping wet sex. Amanda whips off her strap on and straddles the woman’s face, riding her mouth in time with the synced strokes. And with her hands free, she pulls Sandra to her, swings her thigh over her shoulder and buries her fingers and tongue deep inside her pussy.

  I thought the orgy inside the Watcher’s bathroom was incredible. This…is next level freaky. And every slap of skin, every cry of pleasure, and every deep thrust makes me shudder with desire. I want this. I want what they have. I want Sandra’s juices dribbling down my lips. I want to scrape my fingernails against her soft, wet flesh. I want that stranger’s cock inside me while he also gets pummeled from behind. I hate it, I hate it, I hate it, but fuck…I want it. And I don’t know why.

  I feel myself changing here. My mind is so open, my body so aroused. I’m thinking about things I would never dare to watch, let alone try. And here it is, mine for the taking. I could stand up from this dinner table, strip off my dress and join them, and no one would judge me. No one would try to stop me or shame me. They’d welcome me with open arms and celebrate my body’s liberation.

  Do it, a voice whispers in my head. Not my voice. Not even Adriel’s. It will feel so good.

  I want to feel good. I want to feel something—anything—other than hurt and rage and fear. I want to be free of the shackles of self-doubt and insecurity that have kept me bound in a prison of mundane. I worked my entire life to fade into the background. Don’t draw undue attention. Stay in the shadows. Don’t let them see what you really are. And you know what? It’s gotten me nothing. Absolutely nothing but loneliness, heartache, and a shitload of trouble. So why not act on my desires? Why not do what feels good?

  I suck in a breath and prepare to cast away every last ounce of inhibition, when the teeth-clenching sound of shattering glass captures my attention.

  “Apologies,” Nikolai grits, his icy glare piercing straight through the lust-riddled fog. His mouth tightens in disdain as he feigns shock at the mess he’s made, causing red wine to stain the table with bloody repugnance.

  Shit. Was I really about to rip off my clothes and join a fucking orgy? In Hell? With a gaggle of she-devils or demons or whatever the hell they are? What is happening to me?

  I close my eyes to collect myself while servants file in to clean up Niko’s mess. The scene before us continues, although with a little less gusto. Or maybe that’s me. Maybe now that I’m not completely blinded by red-hot lust, I can finally see what this really is—a trap. A diversion to distract my mind from my body. Lucifer knows that the flesh is weak. Hell, he practically wrote the book on tempting the carnal needs of men. He knows which buttons to push to make me succumb to my mortal frailty. And truth be told, I let him push each one of mine.

  Fuck. Him.

  He may have won this morning, but he won’t win this.

  “That’s enough!” I jump from my seat with enough force to make the chair’s legs screech across the red-jeweled floor. All activity ceases. Not even one throaty grunt or scrape of fingernails against humid skin. I don’t know if I’ve just committed suicide, but as every wide eye rests on me, I know for a fact that I’ve gotten their attention. Especially the grand wizard of evil himself.

  “Is there a problem, dear?” Lucifer asks coyly.

  “I know what you’re trying to do,” I reply, leaning forward. My sweaty palms feel hot against the tabletop, but I don’t back down. “I won’t play innocent; you know I’m almost as fucked up as they are.” A wave toward the frozen orgy on the dining room floor. “But I’m here to tell you… It won’t work. I appreciate the gesture, but it’s not happening. Now if you’ll excuse me.”

  I’m signing my own death slip. I cross the distance to the exit doors knowing full well that the Grim Reaper could be on the other side. But nothing but stunned silence follows me out of the room. Even Saskia’s frightened expression at the threshold doesn’t slow my pace. I ig
nore the prying eyes and the low hum that seems to emanate from the paintings. Let them look. Let them report back to their master what a defiant bitch I am. He’s probably plotting my tragic demise right this very moment, compiling his very own Torture’s Greatest Hits.

  “Come on,” I snap, afraid to slow down.

  Her short legs struggle to keep up. She hoarsely whispers, “What happened?”

  I cast a sideways glance to the walls, catching movement out of the corner of my eye. I can hear the frantic buzz of dozens of hushed whispers, but they do nothing to drown out the blood roaring in my ears.

  I don’t even give Saskia the opportunity to open the door to my room before I fling it open, desperate for safety and solace. However, I find something else entirely.

  “What the fuck were you thinking?” Niko growls, the bite of his voice accompanied by a look meant to freeze me in my tracks. Poor Saskia yelps and quickly closes the door behind her, eager to escape his icy assault.

  “How did you get in here?” I haughtily brush by him. “And won’t your master be looking for you?”

  “Never mind that. Are you trying to get yourself killed? Because if so, warn me next time. I really like this suit, and blood is a bitch to get out of silk.”

  With a roll of my eyes, I trudge over to the wardrobe and kick off my obscenely high heels. “I’m sorry. I can’t play your twisted little game. Get someone else.”

  I rip at the ridiculous fabric of my dress—a strapless black number that barely hits two inches below my lady bits—dying to rid my body of any reminder of this evening’s…activities. Fuck modesty. We just watched a damn orgy go down feet away from us. My nostrils are still burning with the stench of sweat, silicone and sex.

  Niko turns and gives me his back, too annoyed to gawk at the sight of me in my underwear. “Newsflash, cupcake: there is no one else. He chose you, didn’t you hear? You’re not here by chance. So I don’t give a good goddamn if you’re done with this game. It’s not done with you. Deal with it.”