The Devil You Know (Ceasefire Series Book 1)

by Claire Marta

  “Playing you hasn’t been easy. You have a fire inside that I know will never be extinguished. It equals my own. Underestimating you was something I was never going to do. You exceeded my expectations.”

  “The Devil praising me? That’s truly disturbing.”

  My heart twists. He’s left me with nothing but scars and distrust. Deeper than anything I could bear on my skin. A sense of bitterness wells. Snatching up a plate, I fill it with food, keeping busy.

  Pouring wine into an elegant glass, he swirls the liquid thoughtfully. “You’re a weapon. An instrument of war. Why wouldn’t I compliment you?”

  “I’m not a weapon.” Popping a chunk of soft bread into my mouth, I chew vigorously. It goes a little way to ease my hunger pangs.

  “Gabriel has been using you for years. You just don’t see it.” He sneers back, lips glistening with the wine he’s just sipped. “Stop thinking inside the box. Humans have no true concept of the world around them. You’re so wrapped up in your own petty lives you don’t see the bigger picture. You sin. You fuck. You cheat. You murder in the name of the greater good with only a passing thought of repercussions for your actions when you die. Heaven and Hell for most are an afterthought. A promise of hope or retribution that you believe is a beautiful lie. A fairy tale to comfort you from the thought that you recede into nothing. If your world was to end tomorrow I truly doubt anyone would notice. Children carrying guns. Families killing each other. Zealots annihilating lives in the name of faceless Gods. Hell is already there.”

  He’s right. The world is a bad place, but it’s not his yet.

  “That doesn’t mean it’s not worth saving.” I counter. Tearing a chunk of meat from a chicken leg, I savour the flavour.

  His eyes darkening, the Devil watches my mouth while I eat. “You think so? Hope is nothing but a dream. Mankind is cruel and brutal. Each hour, more sinners find their souls at the mercy of my Kingdom. How many do you really think reach the gates of Heaven? Do you think they would let someone like you inside?”

  It’s something I’ve wondered plenty of times myself. Working for Gabriel was supposed to wipe clean everything from my past. Give me a clean slate. That was the promise. Questions and doubts tumble through my head. Ones I know I might never get the answers to until I’m dead.

  “If this is some kind of sales pitch to work for you I’ve already told you I’m not interested.” Wiping my hands clean on a napkin, I push the plate away.

  Elbows resting on the table top, Lucifer leans in, staring at me with an intensity that sets my heart racing. “Mavi, you already do, you just don’t realise it yet.”

  Lie. All lies. He’s trying to manipulate me again. Sabotage what I know is true and change my perceptions.

  Gathering the plate, I stand to leave, the furs cocooning my body from view. “I’m not sitting here so you can give me another mind fuck. I would rather find somewhere to eat alone.”

  He’s dangerously still. “Sit down.” It’s low. A growl of pure warning.

  The air is thick with tension and aggression.

  “No.” I challenge.

  The plains of his face settling into an expression of resolve, he rises with purpose from the chair.

  “If you don’t follow my orders there will be consequences.”

  Fingers tightening around the dainty china, I storm towards the door. “Fuck you.”

  “Kneel.”

  The power resonating in his voice takes hostage of my mind. Legs complying without conscious thought, I lower myself to the floor, still clutching the plate.

  Circling around me with the lethal grace of a predator, Lucifer plucks it from my hands, depositing it back on the table.

  “We’re going to have to work on your obedience.” Ripping the furs free, he bares me to the chill. “All I wanted was conversation over dinner. Was that too much to ask for? You might not like the truth, but you will have to face it eventually.”

  I’m unable to speak. Momentarily unable to move. Staring up at him mutely, I send him a venomous glare.

  Throwing my covering aside, he retrieves a belt from the depths of his shadowy robes.

  Heart stuttering, it speeds up again as I realise his intentions.

  Carefully, he folds the supple leather in half.

  “Bend over. Place your forehead on the marble and put your pretty arse in the air,” he orders.

  Again, the compulsion to obey is too strong to fight. Leaning over, the cold ground meets my brow.

  Shock sends my heart hammering faster against my ribs as cool air brushes between my legs.

  Pain cracks over my left arse cheek without warning, stealing my breath as I jerk from the sting. The warmth of the mark that’s left washes through me just as quickly.

  “You will bleed exquisitely for me before I am done with you, Mavi StClair.” Lucifer brings the belt down harder on the next blow.

  I buck against it, sucking in another pain filled breath. On hands and knees and chained by an unseen force, there is no evasion.

  Each time it comes down it’s progressively harder. The pain more intense.

  Shutting my eyes tight, I shake and jerk with each strike that sets my flesh on fire. Emotions crowd my chest, but I bottle them in. No one has ever hit me like this before. Been in supreme control of my body and mind. It terrifies me to the point of madness.

  I want to fight back. Claw and bite like some wild thing. Inflict the pain he’s meting out tenfold back with a knife or a gun.

  I lose count of how many times he’s laid strokes over my arse. Somehow, I become lost in the rhythm. Something inside my changes as the torture turns to rapture.

  The harsh bite of the leather licks across my thigh, curling around the flesh, snapping me into awareness.

  Screaming, tears wet my eyelashes as I hold back a sob from the agony.

  “Please, fuck, it hurts too much.” It’s a plea. I’m begging, and I never beg. A weakness.

  I brace myself, waiting for the next blow, but it never comes.

  The belt clatters to the floor.

  Kneeling beside me, Lucifer takes my quivering shoulders and draws me into his lap.

  His actions confuse me.

  I thought he wouldn’t stop. That he would keep going until my backside was bleeding and raw. Wasn’t that what he wanted? To break me?

  Stroking my hair, his lips brush my forehead.

  I can’t stop the tears. They roll freely down my cheeks. It’s a release of tension.

  Curling into him, I let myself sag.

  “Good girl.” He coos, petting my bare back. “That’s it. Let it all out. You’re safe now.”

  I feel weak. Too exhausted to move.

  Although I’m in pain, an endorphin high courses through me, leaving a feeling of light headedness and intoxication.

  My legs feel like jelly.

  The Devil holds me tightly, his presence enveloping me, making my heart flutter.

  “Your skin marks up nicely.” He remarks, rubbing my arse where he’s hit me.

  Hissing through my teeth, I squirm against the sting his caress causes in the abused flesh.

  “I hate you.” I whimper.

  “Then let it fuel you for what’s to come.” He murmurs into my hair. “You’re going to need it.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Murmuring, I roll onto my stomach. Drifting on semi consciousness, I snuggle further in the softness of the blankets. Warm. Safe. There’s nowhere I’d rather be right now. It’s been a while since I’ve slept so soundly.

  Thoughts trickling like slow flowing water, the events of the evening before filter through my mind.

  I have no memory of falling asleep. The last thing I remember is being whipped with the belt.

  A dull throbbing in my backside assures me it was real.

  Eyelashes fluttering open, I take in the room.

  Glittering white marble walls make up the huge space around me. The massive bed I’m situated on is the centre piece and covered by
thick soft furs which keep out the cold. I’m nestled within.

  A sturdy wooden chair is positioned by the side of the mattress. As if someone has been occupying it while I’ve been asleep.

  To the left are three doors.

  A long, wide window to my right looks out over the frozen landscape lit by the light of the early morning sun.

  I’m alone. Lucifer is nowhere to be seen.

  Spying my clothes neatly folded on the top of the chair, I roll cautiously from the bed. The movement sends discomfort through my punished buttocks.

  “Looks like someone had a good evening.”

  Attention darting to the voice, I discover Raziel watching me from one of the doors.

  “What do you want?” I growl, giving the fallen angel the evil eye.

  Amusement creases his handsome features. “I’m here to take you back. I assume you want to go to The Playground to see Mistress Talia?”

  “I thought I wasn’t allowed to leave.” Snatching up my things, I hug them to my fur covered chest.

  Head tipping to the side, he regards me closely. “And we both know that isn’t going to stop you. At least this way you won’t get lost out there in the snow.”

  He’s right. It won’t. I haven’t forgotten my mission or my purpose. Nathan needs rescuing and not even a beating from the Devil himself will prevent that.

  “You worried about me?”

  “I’m more concerned about Hell. We don’t need you on the rampage.”

  That makes me smile. “What about your boss?”

  With a careless shrug, Raziel flexes his large black wings that are once more folded against his muscled back. “You’ll be gone before he gets back from business and how you escaped is anyone's guess. You’re resourceful. We’re all aware of that.”

  Tempting. I’m sure as shit I won’t be getting out of here without help. But I need to know his price. This is still Hell. No one helps anyone without wanting something in return.

  “And why the fuck should I trust you?”

  Raziel grins. “Because I’m your only hope of getting out of here and you’ll owe me a favour in return.”

  Fuck. More bargains. I’m so sick of making them I automatically want to say no. But that’s not an option.

  “Fine.” I sigh, dragging the furs farther off the bed, making sure they’re swaddled around me. “But if this turns into some kind of double cross I will blow your God damn brains out.”

  “Bathroom is over there.” He tells me, gesturing helpfully towards a door. “Remember, time here is different. You have a few hours at most before we’re supposed to be at the club. Trukun is the General you'll be looking for. She’s a nasty piece of work.”

  “She?” That piques my interest.

  “You thought all of the Boss’s commanders were male?” Raziel tuts. “Trust me, this bitch is the blood thirstiest of them all.”

  Finding my weapons bag under the chair, I pad across the room. “I bet I can give her a run for her money.” Not waiting for his reply, I slip into the bathroom, shutting the door behind me with a click.

  I’m losing my fucking sanity. I have no reason to trust Raziel, but I’m once again forced into this situation. As frenemies go, he’s way too chummy. He’s up to something. Going behind the Devil’s back is suicidal, especially with things as they are right now.

  Dropping the furs, I place my clothes on a chair by the wall. The room is just as splendid as the others I have seen. White tiles grace the floors which are heated from below. Every comfort and indulgence you could dream of have been fitted. A jacuzzi, sunk Roman bath, frosted glass shower big enough to accommodate half a dozen people.

  Again, it strikes me as odd to find a selection of female bathing products displayed on the side. Fancy shampoos, conditioners, and soaps all unopened. Lotions for different uses. As if someone has gone out of their way to make sure they’re here.

  Retrieving a towel, I head for the shower. I have no time to linger. Nathan is waiting, and I can’t fail my big brother now.

  Wincing at the dull ache in my buttocks, I check out the damage in the full-length mirror.

  Dark bruises strip each globe. Another has bloomed across my thigh where the bite of the leather belt had hit me. It disturbs me that I must have fallen asleep in Lucifer’s arms. That he must have put me to bed after the punishment.

  I’ve just tasted his anger at me leaving the last time, now I’m risking it all over again.

  Chewing the inside of my cheek, I step into the cubicle. Shoving the thought aside, I turn on the taps. Water streams down over my head. Pummelling over my shoulders, it unwinds the tension thrumming through me. In record time, I wash myself clean of the last few days, taking care with my hair.

  Drying off with the towel, my locks are just as quickly sorted with a hair dryer.

  Dressing in jeans and a sweatshirt, I stuff my feet into my trainers before shrugging on the leather jacket.

  I find Raziel waiting for me as I re-enter the bedroom. One muscled shoulder leaning idly against the glass he’s staring out over the winter wonderland beyond. His wings are nowhere to be seen. I know from working with Gabriel angels have the ability to draw them into their backs to hide them. An easy way to blend in with humankind.

  I take a moment to study his sombre profile. It reflects a weariness that resonates with something within me. A yearning for something more.

  Shaking myself free of staring, I hurry to collect my weapon bag.

  “Lose the bag.” Raziel tells me, turning from his musings.

  That makes me snort with amusement. “I’m not going without being armed.”

  “Then use the ones you can conceal,” he suggests.

  This really isn’t a good idea, but I can tell by his expression he won’t take me unless I agree.

  Sighing, I dump the bag back down.

  Crouching, I unzip it and rummage through, looking for my holsters. I strip off my jacket and slip it on before restoring my coat. Finding my pistol with blessed ammo I slide it into the waiting snugness. Next, I attach the smaller holsters for my blades to my wrists. Anything to give me an advantage.

  Raziel watches my progress in silence. His thick eyebrows raised slightly as he watches me prepare.

  Maybe he thinks it’s overkill. I don’t give a shit if he does. I’m going to war. When I’m done, Talia and her sister, Trukun will be nothing but stains on the club floor.

  “Ready.” I say, finally rising.

  “About bloody time.”

  Striding across the distance between us, he grabs a hold of my arm. Light flashes brightly, disorienting my senses. With it, comes a serene feeling of wellbeing. It doesn’t last long. Blinking, I find myself standing on a dark chilly street.

  Dropping his grip, Raziel doesn’t wait. He walks away.

  I automatically recognize The Bookworms Delight bookshop. Beside it, steps lead down to a heavy wooden door. The words, The Playground, are lit up ominously above it in neon blue.

  Mistress’s Talia’s BDSM club. Now I know it wasn’t random. The son of a bitch brought me here for this reason. He knew his ex-commander, Trukun, was Talia’s sister. It was a devious way of having me scope out the place without realising. That poses the question, does the Devil know I’m here now?

  Throwing a shrewd look at my companion, his expressionless profile gives nothing away. I’m being toyed with again. A game of twisted truths and lies I really don’t like.

  Luckily for me it’s a different bouncer who answers the door, but he’s no less intimidating. Mistress Talia forbade me to come back. Guess she doesn’t get her wish, after all.

  A narrow corridor greets us. This time there's no smiling hostess to take my coat.

  Making our way along, I find the main part of the club startlingly different. No dimmed light and music.

  A chain linked cage dominates the middle of the room, hanging from the ceiling. It gives the place an Ultimate Fighter feel. Grappling within, two men are in the bloody heat of bat
tle. Crimson and sweat bathes their skin. Straining and shaking, they trade blow after blow, their knuckles bruised and bleeding.

  “What is this?” I ask Raziel, taking in the packed excited crowd.

  He jostles his way through the throng. “Illegal fights Mistress Talia likes to hold to bring in money. People pay well to see these.”

  Pounding their fists, the on lookers screams jubilantly as one of the men goes down. Chasing him, his rival continues to slam punches into his messed-up face. The aggression in the air is off the charts.

  “They’re not all human.” I mutter, gaze roving to the line of waiting challengers ready to take a place in the ring.

  Looping a thick arm around my waist, the fallen angel brings me in close to his side as we progress across the room.

  “No. She has supernatural slaves. Some of the contenders are snatched off the streets to keep things lively. Makes it more interesting when they’re fighting to the death.”

  Revulsion rises in my throat. “You know a lot about this, don’t you?”

  Amusement lifts the corners of his lips as he gives me a knowing look. “It’s my job to be in the know. I also like to wager.”

  I watch the exchange of notes as bets are won around us.

  Up on the stage, the referee is bent over the broken form of the male who lost. With a shake of his head he confirms the guy is dead. It’s a brutal way to go. By the non-existent reaction of the crowd it’s something they are used to.

  “Evening Gents. I have a new challenger I’d like to sign up.” Raziel says cheerfully beside me.

  Attention snapping back, I realise we’re next to a table. Calculating eyes run over me and not just from the bald ugly guy who seems to be in charge.

  Son of a bitch.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” I whisper, bending farther into the fallen angel’s broad side.

  “You’re a commodity to be used.” He whispers back, minty breath warm against the shell of my ear.

  “Business is business, little girl. Our deal was for a favour in return and so now you’re going to make me some money.” With a nudge of his chin, he guides my attention to the VIP area overlooking the show. “If you win two fights the winners get presents from the owner.”