by Larissa Ione
“Where did you get your meals?”
His sensuous lips curved into wistful smile. “Cafeterias. But the food was good.” He noticed that she’d taken off her boots, and he did the same. The polite gesture both amused her and left her off balance. No one in Sheoul was polite. Ever. “It wasn’t always that way, though. When I first got to Sheoul-gra, it was a wreck. It was like living in a Tim Burton movie. The Nightmare Before Lilliana.”
“The what?”
He chuckled and took in the demon version of cave paintings on the walls that she’d cover up if she wasn’t worried about awakening some ancient curse or something. “Life before Azagoth met his mate was way different than the way it is now. Lilliana’s awesome.”
The sad note in his voice knocked a few bricks out of the wall she was trying really hard to build around her heart. Evil wasn’t doing it nearly as quickly as she’d like.
“You really miss Sheoul, don’t you?”
“Yeah.”
Another brick took a tumble, and that was enough of that. Time to shift gears and subjects.
“Well, I can’t do anything about that,” she said, “but I can get you your own place. Since I’m still in charge of you, you’ll take the apartment next door. Bael had it warded so you can enter but you can’t leave through the main entrance.” She gestured to the narrow door at the back of her place. “You have to use the doorway connected to mine.”
“Are all of these hive-holes connected?”
“Yep.” She padded past the bed and headed toward the icebox in the kitchen. She could get a real fridge, but unlike most of the other apartments, hers didn’t have electricity.
“How do you keep other people out?” Cipher’s footsteps followed behind her. “Wards, I’m guessing?”
“You guessed right. Are you hungry?” Bending over, she opened the little icebox and pulled out a couple of bludbeouf wraps she’d picked up yesterday at one of the local markets. “These are kind of like human gyros, except they’re made with demon cows. And maybe a little hellrat—”
She broke off when she straightened and caught Cipher staring at her ass. And he didn’t even have the decency to pretend that wasn’t what he was doing. Instead, he gave her a cocky grin that made heat spread through her pelvis and suspicion spread through her brain.
“What?” he asked, all innocence and charm. “You asked if I was hungry.”
She handed him the sandwich and tossed hers to the table. “I’m not buying it.”
“What? That you have a fine ass?”
“I’m not buying...this.” She gestured to all of him, down to his bare feet. “You’re being too nice. Bael had you tortured for months. He forced you to betray your friends and ex-boss, and now you’re standing in my apartment with a hard-on and a bad boy smirk? Do you really expect me to believe you’re just falling in line like a good little minion of Satan?”
“Revenant,” he said as he unwrapped his food.
“What?”
“Revenant is king now.” He poked at a dripping shaving of meat hanging from one end of his wrap. “You should have said minion of Revenant.”
Not if Bael and Moloc have their way.
“Whatever. What’s your game, Cipher?”
Suddenly, her spine was kissing the wall and Cipher was kissing her neck, and where the hell was his sandwich?
“My game,” he growled against her throat, “is called Stay Alive. And that means feeling alive. It means taking pleasure where you can so you can survive the shit when it hits. And after seven months of shit, I have one hell of a pleasure deficit.”
He was lying. Oh, as his hands tugged her close and his lips sucked at the tender skin at the crook of her shoulder, she knew he was being honest about what he’d said. But he wasn’t telling the entire truth.
He was distracting her from the truth. He was biding his time until he could either earn his freedom, make his escape, or get revenge before the evil of Sheoul took the choice from him.
And the thing was, she didn’t care, because he was right. She needed to feel alive. Needed to fuel up on pleasure, because the bad down here was really bad.
Lifting her leg, she hooked it around his thigh. The hard bulge behind his fly rocked against her center as he undulated slowly, a masculine body wave that drove a tingle of excitement from her scalp to her toes. Damn, he was good at this. They hadn’t even started and every feminine instinct she had was on board and demanding more.
Cipher lifted his head, a flush staining his cheeks, a primitive hunger in his eyes. She knew how that felt, because she was starving too.
“You okay with this?” His mouth quirked in a teasing smile. “Or do you wanna eat first?”
Was he kidding? “You want to eat?”
“Food? No.” He dropped to his knees and in three smooth, fast moves, he unbuttoned her pants and yanked them to her ankles. In two more moves, he had them flung across the room.
He gazed up at her, the stark, male need in his expression making her glad for the wall behind her. It had been so long since anyone had looked at her like this.
No, not like this. Dailon had viewed her with lust, but it had seemed...tamer somehow. Maybe because her virginity had sat between them like a chaperone. He’d been willing to fool around, but he was less willing to “foul an angel.”
The memory of Dailon pricked her heart. Maybe now wasn’t the time to do this. “Cipher—”
His warm mouth covered her mound through the silk of her panties, and she had to bite her tongue to keep from shouting. Okay, she was wrong. This was the time to do it, and she moaned as his tongue probed her valley, the dampness from his licks blending with her wet arousal. He stroked her with his tongue, and at the rasp of sensation across her clit she rocked her hips and let out a strangled sound as the first tremors of bliss snuck up on her.
But he denied her, the bastard, his impish gaze catching hers as he sliced a fang through the elastic leg of her panties. An erotic growl rolled in his throat as he spread her legs roughly, splitting the fabric with a delicate rip. Now she was open to him, her hot flesh exposed to the cool air and his gaze. Her face went hot and her instinct was to close her legs, but he held her prisoner, and she didn’t have the willpower to fight it. Especially when he glanced up at her, his blue eyes ablaze.
“You’re so beautiful,” he said, so reverently she nearly broke down in tears. Holding her with his gaze, he captured her sex in his open mouth and kissed her deep.
“Cipher,” she whispered as she threw her head back against the wall and allowed herself to simply feel something other than the cold misery of life in Sheoul. “This is...so...good.”
He made a humming sound that vibrated through her flesh, taking her breath and her thoughts. Gripping his hair, she arched into him, riding his lips as they nibbled at her swollen bud. He brushed them from side to side and suckled gently before licking at her with the flat of his tongue as his thumb dipped inside her. Waves of ecstasy pummeled her as he rimmed her opening, spreading her juices and teasing her out.
“Yes,” she moaned. “Oh, yes.”
She cried out as his tongue carried her over the line, hurling her into orgasmic bliss. Sharp bursts of pleasure spread from her pelvis to her breasts, taking her breath and, nearly, her consciousness.
Her legs went jelly as the climax ebbed, but he caught her, lifting her as he spun her toward the bed. The backs of her legs hit the mattress, and they both tumbled onto it in a messy tangle of limbs. His masculine weight pinned her deliciously, and she wrapped her arms around him as she spread her thighs to accommodate his big body.
Smiling up at him, her gaze locked with his, she wedged her hand between their bodies to tear open his jeans. He shifted, bracing himself on one elbow to allow her access. Her fingers found the outline of his hard length under the fabric, and he gasped as she squeezed him, toying with him before she flicked open the top button.
The click of the button popping accompanied the soft whisper of a cool breeze
.
Oh, shit.
She froze, sensing a presence. Cipher’s head cranked toward the entrance and he snarled, a bloodcurdling rumble that echoed off her walls.
Son of a bitch.
Lyre didn’t need to look to know that Flail was standing in the doorway.
* * * *
Cipher leaped to his feet and put himself between Lyre and Flail, his wings sprouting before he could stop them. But fuck it, they were shielding Lyre from Flail’s view as she dressed, and they made a pointed display of neener-neener, my wings are bigger than yours. And if he accidentally zapped Flail with one of his uncontrollable weapons, even better.
Petty? Yes. Did he care? No. Because once he had his powers under control, he was going to zap her intentionally and fatally.
“Did I interrupt something?” Flail asked, all fake innocence and wide eyes as Lyre scrambled to throw on her pants. She gestured at the entrance to the apartment. “Lyre, you know you can set wards to protect your place from prying eyes and unwanted visitors, right?” Fake innocence turned into mocking pity. “Oh, I forgot. You can’t.”
Cipher had no idea what she meant by that, but Lyre’s red-faced fury made clear that she knew.
“What do you want, Flail?” He moved toward her, preparing to toss her off the balcony. He wasn’t confined in a cell anymore, his wings weren’t bound, and he held a hell of a grudge.
An aura of energy bloomed around her. She was prepared for him to attack, which proved she wasn’t stupid. “I come bearing good news.”
“Let me guess.” Cipher stopped, curious enough to hold off tossing her into the abyss below. It would be pointless anyway, given that she could fly. But it would be fun, and like he’d told Lyre, he was operating with a pleasure deficit. Especially since the bitch had interrupted what would have been a lot of pleasure. “You’re suffering from an incurable disease that will slowly and painfully kill you. Is that it? Because that would be great news.”
She didn’t look amused. She’d always been lacking in the humor department. “Sorry to disappoint you, but this might be even better. You’ve earned Bael’s trust. To some degree,” she amended. “He has an assignment for you.”
“Okay, I’ll bite,” he said, his voice laced with skepticism. “Why the sudden change of heart?”
“Your list panned out.” Cipher’s gut hit the floor as Flail plopped down on the leather sofa and kicked her feet up on the makeshift coffee table made from an old crate. “We took out one of Azagoth’s children. Nearly got a second, but the damned Memitim arrived and ruined everything.”
Oh...damn. Oh, fuck. Oh...fuck!
Cipher’s knees went liquid, and he had to force himself to stay upright. To pretend he wasn’t affected by the news. But in reality, he wanted to puke.
He was responsible for an innocent child’s death. And not just any child. Azagoth’s child. An angel.
“Anyway, congratulations. You’ve proven your worth.” She tossed him the flash drive he’d downloaded the damned list onto. He wanted to step on it. Break it. Smash it to bits. “That contains the names of a few of Bael’s enemies. He wants you to devise a computer virus that will kill them. He also wants a virus that will spread through the human population. Something gruesome. Can you make zombies?”
Still sick to his stomach, he stared blindly at the drive. “That’s not how computer viruses work.” His voice was flat, numb, and he hoped Flail didn’t notice.
“You’ll make them work. We have confidence in your abilities. And your wings will help you.”
His wings? “What will help me is my laptop and access to the internet and demonweb.”
“That,” Flail said with a knowing smile, “is not an option. You can use your laptop, but it stays where it is. If you need access to the webs, Bael’s is available to you.”
Screw Bael’s devices. No doubt the fallen angel was watching every keystroke on every computer in the region. But Cipher made sure his computer was unhackable and essentially invisible on a network.
“Now,” she said as she came to her feet. “I have Memitim to hunt. Azagoth will join our cause, or he’ll lose everything he loves.”
“You bitch.”
Uncontrollable rage slammed into him. He knew he should control it. Knew he couldn’t let these evil fucks know that he still gave a shit about his old life. His old friends. But knowing they’d killed an innocent child and were still planning to kill Azagoth’s offspring boiled off all his logic and laid-back nature.
Opening himself up to the evil surrounding him, he roared in ecstasy and fury as the oily burn of malevolence seeped into his cells. Then he struck out at Flail with whatever fallen angel ability surfaced first.
A stream of fire shot from his palm, but Flail blocked it with an invisible shield. He changed tacks, pummeling her defense with a series of ice shards. She fell back under the intense assault, but suddenly his powers went crazy, and the shards turned into fucking snowballs that burst into acid powder on contact. Powder that burned holes in Lyre’s floor, walls, and ceiling, but didn’t do a damned thing to Flail or her shield.
“Is that all you can do, Cipher?”
“You’d better hope so,” he ground out.
Grinning victoriously, Flail raised her hand to deliver what would probably have been a devastating strike, but Lyre charged, throwing herself into the other female. Flail, caught off guard by the attack, stumbled, and a heartbeat later, she disappeared over the balcony with a scream.
“Ward the opening,” he shouted, remembering too late that apparently Lyre couldn’t do that. He cursed, unsure how to do it himself.
Turned out that there was no need. Flail rose up in flight, gave them a jaunty wave, and disappeared into the dark sky.
Trembling with rage, adrenaline, and frustration, he shot her the finger. She was going to kill Memitim, and he was helpless to so much as warn Azagoth.
“Damn, I hate her,” Lyre snapped, her gaze locked in the direction Flail had gone.
“She needs to die.”
Lyre turned to him, her fangs bared. “Then maybe you should get to work on those viruses,” she suggested, the silver in her eyes darkening into gunmetal death. It was sexy as hell, and his evil side, growing larger every time he opened himself up to it, stirred.
Simmer down, buddy. We have fallen angels to kill.
That seemed to satisfy his inner sex fiend, and he reached for his uneaten sandwich. A guy had to keep up his energy, after all.
“I’m ready when you are,” he said. “Let’s go make a plague.”
Chapter Thirteen
“Please, my lord, I’ve told you everything!”
The demon screamed, blood bubbling from his parched, swollen lips, as Azagoth wrenched the horn out of his skull with a wet crack of bone and flesh.
“That was the last one.” Azagoth tossed the bloody length of ivory to the floor, where it clattered to rest against another horn. “The next protruding body part I rip off will be located a little farther south. So tell me what I want to know.”
The demon moaned, slumping from exhaustion and the strain of hanging by his bony wrists from Azagoth’s favorite torture rack. A gift from Malachi, a powerful demon from the Islith region of Sheoul, the mahogany rack was a thing of beauty, perfectly sized to grace the far wall in his office, and conveniently located next to the soul tunnel. This Croucher demon had not, however, come through the tunnel, his soul escorted by a griminion.
Nope, his sons Journey and Maddox had dragged the bastard in themselves.
Azagoth’s cell phone beeped from his desk. Inconvenient timing, but he swore to Lilliana that he would always get back to her immediately, especially now that she was close to giving birth.
“Hey, Hawk,” he called over his shoulder. “Is that a text from Lilli?”
Hawkyn had arrived a few minutes ago with news about Cipher. Somehow, he and Journey had been able to crack into Bael’s demonweb, and they’d left a message for the fallen angel. So far, there�
��d been no response.
Azagoth wasn’t sure what to think about Cipher’s situation. Bael had taken Cipher for a reason, and Azagoth suspected the kidnapping had something to do with him. Lilliana had pointed out that Unfallen angels everywhere were, in general, being hunted and forced into Sheoul, and that was true. Demons and fallen angels everywhere were preparing for the End of Days now that there was a time table.
But Cipher’s abduction had felt personal, because no one in their right mind would abduct anyone under Azagoth’s protection.
Which meant that whoever had done it wanted Azagoth’s attention.
Azagoth was going to show them why drawing his attention was a very bad thing.
Hawkyn flipped Azagoth’s phone over and glanced at the screen. “Yup, it’s Lilliana. She wants to know what time to plan for dinner. She’s got a recipe of Suzanne’s she wants to try on you. Says it’s...oh, I see. She wants to try it on you.” Hawk’s face went crimson as he put the phone down and backed away as if it were a poisonous Croix viper. “She’s very graphic about it.”
Azagoth laughed. Damn, it felt right to do that again. At least, it felt right to be laughing at anything good and pure and pleasant. The only thing that had been funny while Lilliana was gone was the suffering of people who deserved it.
“Suzanne recently did an episode about aphrodisiacs and food,” Azagoth said. “Lilliana thought it was interesting.”
Hawk cringed the way he always did when his sister and sex came up in the same conversation. Azagoth got that. Suzanne was his daughter, so he didn’t like to go there either.
“I don’t want to know.” Hawkyn gestured to the demon. “Shouldn’t you be torturing that guy anyway?”
“I didn’t think this was your kind of thing.” Not all of Azagoth’s offspring had inherited his special interests. Maddox and Emerico showed promise, though.
Hawkyn’s expression turned dark. “The bastard tried to kill one of my sisters. The sooner we know who he works for, the sooner we can destroy them.”
Azagoth nodded in approval. Maddox had said something similar when he’d asked to stay for the Croucher’s interrogation. He’d been disappointed when Mad was called away to watch over one of his Primori.
