by Lexi Ostrow
“I was on the streets. I swear to you, as your servant, the hunting party is dead. I looked on as the trio saw something, I followed, and they went straight to Layel. When the Pure Angel walked out, it was with that human again.”
“You mean to tell me, that not only did my Fallen fail to kill King George so you could take his form and sit on the throne, but that Layel dispatched of them and an alliance has formed betwixt at least this human and demons?” She pushed up and leaned over the desk as she spoke, practically hissing the question.
The demon shrunk backwards, practically sinking into the floor due to the bone structure that helped them shift their illusions around. “Yes, My Queen.”
Seraphina saw red. A stack of parchment on her desk sailed to the floor as she snarled and shoved it away. A candle flew across the room as she psychically lobbed it away from her. Panting, she remembered herself and squeezed her eyes tightly shut until the anger became manageable. Her words were hardly controlled as she spoke.
“Get out at once. You had an opportunity to do good for your kind, and you allowed it to fail. If you are not gone from sight immediately, you will not live to take another breath.”
With a strange squeal, the Illusion Demon left so quickly, Seraphina half-expected to see marks on the floor. She heard an annoying chuckle and whipped her head around to see Lucius standing just outside her office. He was smart enough to shut his lips and keep walking when her eyes met his. But she had an idea.
“Lucius, dear, sweet, under-my-control-Lucius. Do come back here?” she practically purred to the Nightmare Demon.
A second later, he appeared in front of her, a nervous look on her face. “I thought I was free to come and go as I wished?”
She stroked a finger down the side of his face. “Oh, but plans change. There is a man, Thomas. He is a part of a guild. I want you to kill him.”
His eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “I like my head on my shoulders, but need I point out how popular of a name Thomas is? A strong, Christian name. There are, I believe, twelve guilds in London, how do you expect me to find the proper man?”
“I suppose you’ll just have to kill them all.” Focusing, she touched his hand and flashed him up to the streets above.
Looking around her office, she tsked as she saw the desk. “I do need to learn to control myself, though life is so much more fun this way.” Sitting down in her chair, she went about picking up the mess she had made, so much calmer knowing that at least the little matter of human interference was in capable hands.
Twelve
Audrey couldn’t hear the cook’s words. All she could focus on was the hunger pang deep in her stomach. She had been eating plenty, and yet, could not seem to shake the hunger. If she had been honest with herself, the desire had seemed more for liquid than food. But, that would mean admitting to herself that she also knew what liquid in question she was desiring—ichor.
The cook was prattling on about feeding for two, and she waved it away with a hand.
“I would know if there were changes in my own body, Marta. Thank you for thinking such a magnificent blessing was bestowed on me, though.” Audrey cringed as a sharp stab in her side caused her to almost double over. “I wonder if I have come down with something.” She tried to steady her breathing and shooed Marta’s hand away. “I’ll be fine. I think I might just lie down.”
“I think someone should call Mister Thomas home,” Marta clucked partially under her breath.
Audrey said nothing, just continued to walk away. She didn’t disagree with her cook. She wanted her husband home. It had only been three days since he had gone to stay at the Clockwork Guild, and not only did she miss him something awful, she wanted to speak to him about her cravings, he might know what was occurring within her.
Closing the door to her room behind her, she sat on the wingback chair nearest the window and slumped into it. Inadvertently, she licked her lips as she thought about the last time she had seen both her husband and Layel. For the first day, she could taste the Angel’s blood running through her veins, even after only a small droplet. The past two days had worried her, though. The idea of enjoying ichor did not shock her, whether he thought so or not, Layel was a divine creature to her. Perhaps all demons were in a sense. It was how she kept waking in the middle of the night after a dream of drinking his blood as his body moved in her and how neither water nor wine did anything to sate her thirst days that worried her.
“What could it possibly mean if I crave the blood of a demon?” The question hung in the lonely silence of the room.
Flashes of her childhood slammed into her—standing outside her mother’s room as she heard the drunken sobs, spending holidays with the wait staff and even clutching her mother’s lifeless hands in the quiet of an empty room. Whether she liked it or not, Audrey had very much damned herself to the exact life she had been trying to avoid. A lonely one.
Would Layel return to me, if I somehow wished for it hard enough? The thought offended her. The desire for his blood was so strong that she thought he was the answer to her problem. When, in fact, it was her husband.
She closed her eyes and pushed back the small onrush of tears she felt building at the thought of Thomas. There was no fault in him leaving their home; she had grievously wronged him. She had hoped he would return, or at least send her a correspondence, though. She had not heard from him since that early morning conversation, and it hurt her heart. She loved him, whether she did or didn’t the night she slept with Layel, she could no longer remember. Now, though, she felt his absence as strongly as if he were dead. She longed to feel him wrap his arm around her and tug her against his side as they settled into bed. She even longed for his bear-like snores, anything that meant he was home with her again.
That he had forgiven her.
The small pulsing in her stomach was just another reminder of her transgression. She craved the blood of an Angel. There was nothing she could do to stop it, no way to contact the Angel for more. A dull ache whittled away at her head, as it had been doing since the cravings had begun. She almost felt as if she were her mother, dying away, alone in her room.
Closing her eyes, she sighed. Her life had become a series of disappointments, and it had seemed so wonderful after she and Thomas had spoken about her fears. Perhaps, all it would take was a conversation once more to heal the wound she’d carved into the flesh of their relationship.
Rising, she crossed the room to the small pine desk that sat against the wall. The quill lay out, tip stained from use, and she removed the inkpot from the drawer. It creaked as she clamped down onto the cap and twisted it off. She startled when it finally came free, and she launched it by accident. Shaking her head, she ignored the tossed lid, dipped the quill into the black ink and slid it over the glass rim to remove any excess. Her hand shook with the effort, fear coiling in her stomach at the many ways this could go terribly wrong. Women did not seek out their husbands, but she had already slept with another, convention was long out the window.
Touching the tip gently to the page she began to write just as the door to the room slammed into the wall. She twitched, smearing a hideous black mark across the expensive parchment and winced. Her head pounded, as she wanted to yell at whatever worker had dared to enter her room without so much as a knock.
“Forgive me, Audrey. I had not meant to frighten you,” Thomas said as he stepped rather cautiously into their chambers. “It was time I came home. Time we spoke upon everything. I had a dream, a night terror really. This is where I needed to be, but we need to clear the air betwixt us if we are to ever move forwards.” He closed the space betwixt them.
Without any prompting, she rose, and his lips touched her, so gently she feared she was imagining it. She hadn’t even realized she had closed her eyes until she opened them and found Thomas seated on the edge of the bed. He gave her a tense smile and patted the space next to him. She crawled up, tucking her legs underneath her and sat beside him, daring to lay her head on his shou
lder. She breathed a sigh of relief when he did not pull away.
“I have missed you, husband,” she whispered.
He did not flinch away, rather reached a hand across his chest and stroked her hair patiently. “I am sorry I stormed out. While I cannot say that I am unaffected by your misgiving, I do know that there was little you could do to stop it. I am certain if I had slept with such a magnificent creature, I likely would harbor no regrets myself,” he said with a small chuckle.
She relaxed a little and picked her head up to look at him. “I am sorry, Thomas. I cannot remove that night from my memory, or from yours. Though I am glad it will have no further ill effect on our relationship.” She stopped herself before speaking upon her sudden ichor desires. She had intended to speak with him upon them but wondered if it wouldn’t sully their new understanding of the situation.
“I have to ask a question, I hope you can forgive me for it.” Thomas’ voice cracked.
A tremor of fear raced through her. Could he know? Slowly, she nodded.
“Do you . . . do you still desire him? Layel?” his bright blue eyes stared directly into hers, a pleading in them.
She knew how he wanted her to answer him. She knew she loved him, but did she desire Layel? She froze before answering. She wanted his blood, of that she was certain. But did she desire his touch? Closing her eyes, she thought about the way his gentle fingers had skimmed over her skin as he’d bedded her. A shiver traveled through her at the memory. She felt her body grow slightly wet, and pulse at the thought of his erection sliding in and out as she’d sat upon his lap. As phantom sensations began to spark through her, it was Thomas’ face in her mind’s eye, Thomas’ hard prick thrusting deep inside her channel.
Her gasp was unavoidable, and when she opened her eyes, Thomas was frowning. She did indeed desire those feelings again, but she knew whom she wanted to share them with. Thomas.
“I cannot deny the way he touched me was desirable. He had a skill and finesse about him I do not think any human man could contend with.” She slipped her hand into his and intertwined her fingers with his. “I do not desire it again with him. I desire it with you. I crave your touch and your body melding together with mine. But I do not desire that from Layel.”
Thomas’ sigh of relief was so audible that it was almost a tangible force, like a strong gust of wind. His thumb stroked over the top of her hand, and she smiled despite the conversation.
“That is splendid to hear, Audrey. I have something I need to tell you, something that could put you in proximity to Layel oft, and I could not do this if you still desired his touch.”
Every meter of her body went rigid at his words and her breathing hitched. She didn’t desire Layel in a sensual relationship, but she craved his lifeblood, so strongly she wondered if she wouldn’t attack him for it if she met him once more.
Thomas must have felt her rigidity. “My love?”
She forced herself to speak, but the words were strained and spilled out of her mouth in a rush. “I am just shocked that you would work closely with him. I had thought you were against whatever proposition had been made to you.” She thought back to the men’s shouting row on the street prior.
This time, Thomas went stiff, and his eyes went cold.
“I witnessed something for myself. Something that was impossible to turn away from. I also could not protect you without the offer King George and Layel made to me.” He took her face in his hands, his thumbs gently moving over her chin. “You are my primary concern. I failed to protect you once. I will not do so again.”
She leaned in, pressing her lips to his, and immediately, his arms wrapped around her. She leaned into the comfort of his embrace. Letting their kiss deepen for a moment longer before sitting back.
“Tell me, of this offer.”
Thomas adjusted his breeches and gave her a playful, albeit dirty, look. “I suppose that should come first. I do not know how much part I will play in it, but the king is creating an organization to fight off demons. Layel will be granting us some small favors, but the clockworkers will be needed. Not all, only a few adept with their hands and sharp of mind. The rest of the members will be from the Royal Guard. We will be a small, but hopefully effective group. It will be our task to keep the city safe.”
Her heart pounded loudly with each word. Not in anger, not even in fear for her husband, but with utter admiration for him. He was aware of what lurked in the night, and he was not a soldier. Yet, he was going to make it his fight. His duty.
A blossoming of lust seemed to burst inside of her as she thought of her husband, secretly protecting the city. Her voice was husky, “I do not know if I can ever thank you, for your forgiveness, and now how you bravely take on a war that is not truly yours.”
His eyes didn’t radiate the heat that hers did, but she could see his desire growing as if he could sense hers. “I can think of a wonderful way to start.”
His lips slanted over hers, and she was lost to her husband. To all the need and desire she had felt growing, but not to the craving for blood. Despite the fire burning through her for her husband, the aching need for Layel’s blood was still present, still stronger.
Seraphina casually wiped away the blood of the Succubus Demon she had killed. The woman had thought it a wise choice to try to seduce Seraphina for the keys to Hell—so many foolish attempts on her life had occurred in the past century. Many of which, like the Succubus’, were laughable at best.
Pushing open the door to her room, her mood shifted from mild irritation to lust as her eyes landed on Neal. The Ice Demon had fallen into her bed by mistake, she’d been drunk on Incubus powers, and the demon had dared to cross her path. However, he had proven to be one of the most capable lovers she had ever taken. So much so, that he graced her bed monthly. The pale haired demon had the body of a warrior, and his icy touch extended all the way down to his prick, exciting her further as they fucked.
“Is it time already,” she purred as she used her nail to slice open the side seam on the emerald grin silk gown she wore. The cool fabric caressed her skin as it slipped down her body and pooled around her feet.
Neal’s eyes narrowed, and a hunger blazed out of them. He was dressed, something she specifically demanded he not be. Neal was a loyal lover, and not prone to acts of defiance. His ice blue eyes were almost as devoid of color as hers, and she could see a distinct level of fear mixing with the growing lust in them.
She sauntered over to him and pointed at his laced shirt. “You never come to me clothed, what is this?”
He swallowed deeply, and Seraphina couldn’t help but appreciate that a strong, muscled male like Neal was terrified of her. It sent a shot of lust through her, and she groaned, hoping his clothing was nothing more than an annoyance.
“I have news. It was decided I would be the best to deliver it.”
Her mood went sour at the failure. Pulling backwards from him, she let her hand hover above the thick bulge in his grey trousers. “Who has failed me this time?” Her voice held none of her earlier lust, just annoyance.
Neal’s face scrunched, and he shifted his body to the side, away from her hand. Some of the tension drained from his face as he did. She wasn’t certain whether he was afraid she would rip it off, or if he simply couldn’t stand knowing she was so close to his prick. Either outcome was enjoyable to her.
“Lucius attacked the man, Thomas. He found him, but it was daylight. The man must have dozed from his midday meal. Lucius was able to see inside his mind, at his greatest fear, but he couldn’t kill him. It was far too much of a power drain for the demon.”
Seraphina frowned. Of all the failures that could have been delivered by Neal, that was the least appreciated. “And they presumed that, due to my enjoyment of your body, I would not kill you for delivering such news, but I would them?”
Neal’s eyes shifted to the side before looking into hers. “That was the general consensus.” He lowered his head as if there was need to show her reverence.
“Then the group to fight demons, that is still something beginning in London?” she asked as she stepped away from the bed, now was not the time for play.
Neal nodded.
“Then it is time we fix that. I am not completely unreasonable. If Lucius found the man during the day, he cannot be blamed, this time.” She tapped her chin as she walked away, still nude. “I want you to gather warriors. I do not care which demons you choose, but your kind is not known for their skills in combat. I recommend seeking out any that won’t kill you on sight for offending them with your lesser demon appearance.”
If Neal was insulted, he didn’t show it. She only bedded lesser demons, not including Fallen. Due to that, a few were allowed to remain in the center of Hell with her. That didn’t mean gathering an army would be easy on him. If he survived, she had a number of pleasurable activities for them to partake in.
“Go now. We cannot know what gifts the Pure Angels will grant them, or if the lesser demons will join them. This threat must be extinguished before it grows troublesome. Our numbers are still too small to invade the topside where humans live. We must remain careful, we must remain the victors.”
Neal nodded and rose off the bed. As he went to walk past her, she let her fingers trail across his backside. When he turned, she molded her body against him and pressed her lips to his in a brief kiss. The rolling motion of her hips against his prick sent all the message she needed it too.
Neal growled low, and when his ice-cold fingers wrapped around her arse to tug her into him, she stepped back.
“There will be much more for you if your group succeeds, Neal. You are not to journey with them, but to remain in Hell, should I decide I do not wish to wait.” She pouted her lips at him and turned around, slowly and rather seductively, walking to lie on her bed. She could feel his gaze on her, and she smiled coyly at him once she’d lain down. “Do not delay, Neal. I’m in the mood to be touched.”
