Hell's Phoenix

by Gracen Miller

  “Hielel, you did this?” Micah asked Lucifer, referring to him by his angelic name.

  Lucifer inclined his head, affirming his part in Micah’s salvation. “You have the prayers of my worshipers to thank for your salvation.”

  “Welcome back, brother,” Elias said.

  “You know we’re going for her?” Micah said to his twin.

  “Of course we are.”

  Micah smiled, relishing the fantasy of catching her soon and bringing her back where she belonged.

  “After you’re one hundred percent recuperated.” Lucifer reminded him of a parent. “You’re still not completely healed and you cannot afford a setback.”

  “Yes, however long it takes to get better, Lucifer. I promise.” After this feat, he wouldn’t underestimate Madison. Not ever again. But he’d seen the doubt in her eyes when she thrust the blade into his chest. She hadn’t wanted to kill him, a good sign for him.

  Damn him, he loved that woman. Her passion, her stubbornness, and her tenacity to strike him where it would hurt the most. He was so fucking proud of her, proving she held the heart of a Queen.

  “I suspect you’ll be immune to the dragon blade now.” Lucifer massaged something floral-smelling into the wound on his chest. Micah scrunched his nose at the nasty aroma. “Maybe even dragon fire.”

  All the better for his bride’s homecoming.

  “Could you have found something that smelled a little better?” he bitched, grimacing at the pain his brother’s touch caused.

  The fourth King of Hell, Raguel was his angelic name, knelt at Micah’s side, his black head bowed to his bent knee.

  “What the fuck are you doing, Levi?” Beliel snarled, shocked by his brother’s benevolence.

  Raguel lifted his gaze to Micah’s. “You are the first and only known phoenix in all of angelic existence. You have my devotion, my brother. Command me at your will.”

  A phoenix…he admired the irony. Madison saved Phoenix from their covenant. The first and only mortal to survive Hell, he’d risen from his funeral pyre—a covenant with a King—to regain his youth and hope for a new life. With my wife. Micah threw back his head and laughed. It echoed and sounded as demonic as the creatures he created.

  Two phoenixes in his kitten’s life. But only one could have her. Oh, the paradox.

  Chapter Fifty-two

  Madison spread her palms across the top of the desk. Poor Nix. The idea of her death panicked him, even with the likelihood that he could revive her. She understood. She’d not only been terrified, but devastated to learn of his covenant with Hell.

  Zen. She sent the thought telepathically.If he’s capable of bringing me back, don’t allow it to happen before the enemy is annihilated.

  The only visible acknowledgment from Zen was a scant nod and a You have my word.

  “I don’t plan on going anywhere, Nix.” She wouldn’t actively seek out death, but she’d embrace it with open arms before she’d allow Micah to have Amos or taint Nix again.

  “It’s enough that you’re thinking it.”

  “You’re aware of my marriage covenant with Micah, Nix?” She waited until he nodded before she went on. “If he’s dead, this conversation is moot anyway because I’m already dead. Elias will come to drag me back to Hell so I won’t die, and he can avenge his brother’s death. He could keep me alive indefinitely. I refuse that outcome.”

  Nix walked across the room, his back to her. His shoulders were so tense, she suspected he wanted to punch the sheetrock.

  “If Micah lives, I need support to fight him.” Because that dark place inside wanted to be with him and binge on his seraph. “I need you for that.”

  Nix pivoted on his heels. “Pardon me, Mads, but all I’m seeing is all roads leading to your death.”

  “Give me another road and I’ll embrace it.”

  “Life, Mads, fucking life!”

  Madison pushed away from the desk and strode to him. She grabbed his chin between her fingers and snatched his head down so she could stare him straight in the eyes. “Don’t for one second think I don’t want to live. You give me one viable alternative path, regardless of odds, and I’ll jump at it.”

  “Give me time to come up with another plan.” Nix shoved his hands in her hair. “Just don’t give up, baby.”

  “I won’t. But you’ve gotta support me if another option doesn’t present itself. I need you with me on this.”

  “As much as I don’t like the way Kur looks at you, I agree that the dragons should stay.”

  Madison laughed. “Lawd, Nix, he’s not interested in me any more than Zen is.” She tugged him close by hooking a finger in the waistband of his jeans. “Thank you for your support. It means everything to me.”

  “You can thank me properly later,” he teased with a dimple-showing grin.

  “What about you, Zen?” She turned to face him, snuggling against Nix’s chest as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. She would embrace his love, until everything went to Hell.

  Zen dragged in a rough breath and released it slowly as he walked to the wall and yanked the blade she’d left there. He turned back to face her. “What I think,” he said, gripping the blade in one hand, hilt toward her, “is that I stopped protecting the ‘balance’ the day I peered into blue infant eyes.”

  He stepped in front of her. Nix’s body pressed against her spine offered both physical and mental support.

  “I’ve regretted every action I’ve taken with you. Why not one more? For good or bad, I’m on Team Madison.” Zen extended his hand, offering her the blade. “You’ll need this one to go along with the dragon blade.”

  Madison accepted her weapon from him and stashed it in the waistband of her pants, alongside the other one. She flung herself against Zen and hugged him tight. He returned her embrace with a one-armed hug. “Thank you, Zen! Thank you for trusting me.”

  Epilogue

  Collapsed in a heap beside Nix, Madison wasn’t sure she’d ever muster the energy to move. Nix held the magic touch. Every problem, every worry fell away when he caressed her or while he was inside her. With his messian, he settled her succubus’s relentless push to feast.

  “I love you, Mads.” He snuggled down beside her, nuzzling her neck and draping an arm around her belly.

  Madison turned toward him, wrapped an arm around his waist and wedged her knee between his legs. “I love you, too, Nix.” Her voice felt scratchy from overuse, whimpering, moaning and begging for release, thanks to his proficiency.

  Snuggled in Nix’s arms was better than nice. Idyllic and perfect came to mind. His even breathing indicated he’d fallen asleep holding her. The serenity Nix’s arms provided hadn’t surfaced in Micah’s. She assumed some of the blame because she’d feared Micah’s disgust if he discovered the extent of her desires.

  Brimstone crowded her senses as screams echoed about. Madison blinked, tried to sit up, but suddenly she freefell through Hell, no longer in Nix’s safe harbor. Another blink and she stood in a room. She’d been plucked naked from her bed.

  Two men faced her. The black-headed, smiling one bore a homicidal glint in his dark gray eyes. She recognized him as the man who’d presided over her wedding…Raguel. The other male shifted through a random set of physical appearances, resting only moments in one skin before moving to the next. No emotion touched his features, just an indifferent stare.

  “Raguel, at your service.” The black-haired demon spoke.

  “I remember you.” Wasn’t expecting to discover you are one of the Kings.

  “Hielel.” He flickered through a wide range of personas. “Better known as Lucifer.”

  Shit! Both Kings. Not that she’d expected anything less.

  Micah must be dead and they’d called her home to deliver justice. Sorrow as jagged as shrapnel pierced her heart. A tiny part of her had hoped he lived. But why? She loved Nix and wanted no other.

  Because we might have Nix but that doesn’t mean we’ve invested in a future with him. We want
both and we’d hoped there would be more time to decide. Lynx forced her to face the truth.

  Elias’s lips moved against her ear. “I think you remember me, princess.” His hand curled around the front of her throat and snatched her tight against his solid frame. He represented an immovable wall of muscle and justice.

  Emotions clogged her throat and burned her sinuses. “Micah is dead?”

  “It’s what you wanted.” Raguel’s demonic claws emerged, silver and glinting, as they tapped against his thigh. An obvious promise to use them on her was how she perceived the movement. Lucifer watched her, his thoughts difficult to read as he continued to click through personas. But she got the feeling his introspection would run deeper than Raguel’s more expressive emotions.

  “No.” She bit her bottom lip to keep it from trembling. The absolute truth. She’d hated shoving that blade into his heart and sorrow had been her companion instantly.

  “Enough.” Madison jerked in the direction of the new voice. Micah stepped out of the shadows near Raguel. “Leave her be, brothers.”

  “Micah,” she sang, joy surging.

  Dark shadows blemished the pale skin under his eyes, but he looked fucking good.

  Jerking out of Elias’s hold—only because he allowed her to leave his cage—she walked straight to Micah and threw herself against him. He stumbled from the impact of her embrace, but she clung to him, wrapping her arms around his neck. Her breasts scrubbed against his chest with each inhalation, but she suddenly didn’t care she was naked. All that mattered was her very real joy that Micah lived.

  Safety. No one would harm her as long as he lived.

  She buried her face in the curve of his neck and breathed in his scent, squeezing him hard. He smelled like Micah, a mixture of sea salt, sunshine, and sulfur. An odd combination for a man who’d helped build a hellish empire.

  “I thought I killed you.” Leaning back, she met his gaze. She was to blame for the dark smudges beneath his eyes.

  His expression remained neutral. “You almost succeeded.” His cool voice was unreflective of any emotions he might feel. He ran a finger down the side of her face before moving it to the back of her head and palming her nape. “You smell like Phoenix.” His hand tightened against her neck.

  “You fucked him. Why shouldn’t I?” She reached up and reciprocated his hold, winding his hair around two of her fingers. She snatched at the silky strands and he hissed. “Fair play and all.”

  A curious, unblinking stare rendered her unable to gauge his reaction.

  “I expected you to be afraid to see me.” Micah ran a hand down her back, clothes materializing from his movements. “Can’t have my brothers ogling my wife.”

  “Should I be afraid?”

  “You did try to kill me.”

  She quirked her lips. “Your lack of faith wounds me, husband. If I’d wanted you dead, you’d be dead.”

  Taking a step backward, she gripped the buttons on his shirt. His hold shifted to her hips, restricting the amount of square footage she could place between them.

  Madison quickly undid the buttons on his shirt and shoved the material aside to get a good look at the injury she’d given him. Angry pink flesh bubbled like a blister. She thumbed the gash and almost missed the grimace her touch elicited. She circled the pad against the wound, disliking the thin, watery feel of the lesion. Unsure if her demonic power would assist his healing, she channeled a thin stream of her mojo into him. The only indication he gave that he noted her magic was a deep breath.

  He caught her wrist. “Your power isn’t in healing, kitten.”

  She removed her thumb and the angry gash remained unaffected.

  “I appreciate the effort, however.”

  She elevated her gaze. “I missed your heart, or you would be dead.”

  Micah shot a questioning glance at either Lucifer or Raguel, she wasn’t sure which.

  “She speaks true.” Lucifer confirmed her statement.

  Madison jabbed Micah in the ribs with her knuckles. He grunted.

  “Apologize for doubting me.”

  To Be Continued….

  ~ABOUT THE AUTHOR~

  Gracen is a hopeless daydreamer masquerading as a "normal" person in southern society. When not writing, she's a full-time karate/football/guitar mom for her two sons and a devoted wife to her real-life hero-husband. She's addicted to writing, paranormal romance novels and movies, Alabama football and coffee…addictions are not necessarily in order of priority. She is convinced coffee is nectar from the gods and blending coffee and writing together generates the perfect creative merger. Many of her creative worlds are spawned from coffee highs. To learn more about Gracen or to leave her a comment, visit her website at www.gracenmiller.com.

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