Fate's Consort

by Elysabeth Grace

  “Demotion is always a possibility, Guardian. And, she isn’t immune.” Satan stroked his beard. “I established a physical connection to her. I’m not sure how it ruptured but not long after my blood tie to Lucifer flickered.”

  “Do you think he’ll try to claim her as his Consort?”

  Satan huffed. “Of course he will, which means Analise is the missing piece of the puzzle.”

  “She is a Willoughby but her father’s ancestor is Sebastian Willoughby’s distant cousin. There’s no trace of Lilith’s blood in that line. The only possibility, and I doubt it, is she is somehow a descendant of Anne Willoughby and Gabriel Elstone.” Uriel sighed. “Moments like this, I really hate my brother and Raphael.”

  “It’s curious that the pair disappeared and none of their descendants surfaced.”

  Uriel nodded. “If I could confirm Kella Marcus as a direct female descendant. . . . If your Cali Girl is the one, Sire, it does change things.”

  Satan shuttered his eyelids. “It’s all about control, although I may have overplayed my hand but we’ll see. After all, Lucifer has languished in mud for nearly a thousand years. What possible threat could he be?”

  Uriel’s laughter earned a grin from Satan. “What are your plans?”

  “To return to San Francisco and claim a Consort. Details on the man who works as her executive assistant would be helpful.”

  “Mark Stane. They met when your intended was an undergraduate. He went to work for her dead cousin, and Ms. Willoughby inherited him and the company. He’s married to Alejandro “Jess” Alcedo, a lawyer and a police commissioner for San Francisco. They live in the North Beach area of the city. His net worth is roughly five million but I doubt you’ll be able to bribe him. Stane is loyal to a fault to your would-be Consort.”

  Satan laughed. “You have been a busy angel.”

  “The second you began to salivate. You do realize, metaphorically, the blood of Ms. Willoughby’s parents is on your hands. You may get a ‘what the fuck’ and/or a “not today Satan” from your chosen.”

  Satan heard a pained scream and frowned. “Where are you?”

  “The Nouveau Enclave. It’s suffering from an influx of faux-shifters anxious for angelic dick and pussy. Some idiot posted an ad on Jerry’s List as a joke then panicked when it got out of hand. A few of the wannabes didn’t survive the experience. The demon who initiated the joke also didn’t survive.”

  Uriel paused for a long second. “I simply cannot tolerate deceit.”

  Satan laughed. “Thrilled you have standards.”

  “Very few since my retirement from the Guardians. However, when it comes to the abuse of supernaturals, especially shifters, my moral compass seems to return. Besides, my instinct tells me they’re crucial to our goals. We can’t afford to sanction these types of games. If you can spare me, Sire, there is a matter that requires my oversight.”

  “Should I be concerned?” Satan asked.

  Uriel shrugged. “After centuries of squabbling, Azazel and Belial have decided to cry peace and asked me to broker talks. I’m curious about the impetus for their accord. If there is a problem, I’ll let you know. Do you need me in San Francisco?”

  “No, I can manage my brother and Analise.”

  Satan disconnected and pressed another icon on his phone. A face flickered into view. “Adrian. I will be returning to San Francisco in two days. I suspect I’ll be there for at least a week or two. Make arrangements for an apartment rather than a hotel.”

  “Yes, Sire.”

  Satan ended the call and stared out the window as sunlight crept up Trinity Cathedral with the stealth of a spider inching its way toward its victim. Many times he’d sat perched on the tip of the cathedral’s spire, tearing apart the mistakes he had made in his war against the Hierarchy. Even with a firm grip on humankind, he’d suffered Fate’s benign interference. For every opportunity he seized, she’d managed to place a roadblock. The creation of illusions was an opportunity, not being able to control Lilith’s human-born descendants was a roadblock. Demons and the undead were likewise an opportunity while Lilith’s creation of shifters was a definite roadblock.

  Fate had seriously cock-blocked him twice when it came to shifters. The first time was the disappearance of shape-shifting Anne Saria Willoughby and Gabriel Elstone, the undead offspring of Mephistopheles. Somehow the pair, and any offspring, vanished off the face of the earth. The second time was connected to the discovery of shifters in the US. He persuaded the US government to initiate a “catch and research” program. Once the program was in place, several of the Fallen’s labs served as MCRP research sites.

  Failure after failure until news of AnthroGen. By the time Uriel uncovered the connection between Martine Drake, AnthroGen’s owner, and Richard Willoughby, the woman was dead. Satan swore angrily. Of course, the bitch Fate wasn’t going to make it easy on him. Martine’ heir proved to be Richard and Kella’s missing child.

  Satan’s eyes narrowed. “This would be much easier had Belial not employed fools. No matter, you’re mine, Analise Willoughby, and your little lab too.”

  ***

  Analise moaned when a warm hand slipped between her thighs. Fingers stroked her flesh before one parted and slid inside her. The rhythmic thrust and retreat stirred her sensitive flesh and she quickly became wet. A firm thumb pressed her clitoris, rubbing in slow circles. She started to turn on her back and found herself held immobile by a silken smoothness, like erotic feathers lightly teasing her skin.

  Wings.

  Her eyelids lifted and she turned her head. Gorgeous cobalt wings fanned out on either side of her. She opened her mouth to protest but only managed a “damn” when a second finger stretched her channel. Her hips rose and dipped with the ensuing thrust and retreat of Lucifer’s fingers. She moaned as she came, her pussy riding the fingers bringing her so much pleasure.

  Lucifer slowly guided her down from whatever cloud she’d been on. His mouth against her ear, he whispered, “remain on your stomach, and I have placed a condom on my penis.”

  Analise smothered her giggle when he positioned himself over her, his knees between her legs. His hands lifted her hips until she was on her knees, her sex leaking its juices. She moaned with pleasure as he slowly entered her, feathers brushing her skin. The arrhythmic pacing soon gave way to a synchronic give-and-take. Her inner muscles constricted and expanded, matching the tempo of his thrusts. She hadn’t imagined her body could produce an orgasm as powerful as the one sweeping over her. Analise heard his name on her lips and his growl of pleasure seconds before darkness descended.

  “Do you intend to wake soon, Analise Saria?”

  She opened her eyes and Lucifer’s handsome face came into focus. Arms and wings thwarted her ability to move. For some reason, instead of troubling her, it gave her a deep sense of security. “Only if there is coffee.”

  He lifted a hand and waved. Seconds later, Analise heard the slow drip of coffee brewing. “I want that talent,” she said. “I assume I was satisfied before I fell asleep.”

  “You fainted.”

  “Fainted?”

  “Your pleasure was such it momentarily deprived your brain of oxygen. You were unconscious for approximately ninety-three seconds.”

  “I know the clinical definition of fainting,” she muttered as the aroma of coffee filtered into the bedroom. “You don’t allow anyone to hold on to their illusions, do you, Dream Candy?”

  He gave her a puzzled look and shifted his weight to the bed. “Why would you want to believe you slept instead of fainting? Does it trouble you your pleasure was so great you briefly lost consciousness?”

  Analise turned her face into her pillow. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore,” she said, her voice muffled. She waited a few seconds and turned back. “What time is it?”

  “Six thirty-two.”

  “You woke me before dawn to have sex?”

  “Dawn occurred at five twenty-eight. I started making love to you at eight minu
tes past six. We ceased making love when you fainted at six-thirty. Therefore, I could not have awakened you before dawn,” Lucifer stated. “And we did not have sex, Analise Saria, we were engaged in lovemaking.”

  Analise closed her eyes and pressed her lips together to stop the laughter. What is it you find amusing, Consort? She raised her eyelashes and peered at his face. His expression was classic bafflement. Her laughter erupted and Lucifer’s face became even more confused.

  Forcing herself to stop, she reached up and ran a slender finger across his mouth. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting a clinical response to my questions, which, by the way, were rhetorical. I need to remember you haven’t spent much time with humans. Buried in rock as you were. By the way, you don’t need to announce you’re wearing a condom. If you put it on, I can tell.”

  “We’ll have to work on your sense of humor, Seraphim.” Analise shifted in his arms. “I need to get up.”

  “Why? I am quite comfortable as we are.”

  “Because I need to pee. Urinate.”

  “I know what the word pee means, Analise Saria.”

  He released her. She got out of bed and walked into the bathroom. Turning to face him, she said, “I’m also going to take a shower.”

  He rose, stretched, and flared his wings. She sucked in air and nearly choked. He must have heard because he tilted his head in her direction.

  “You truly are magnificent,” she breathed.

  “Thank you.” He gave her a questioning look. “Did you shower?” She shook her head. “Do you wish me to shower with you?”

  Analise nodded and then shook her head. “No,” she stammered. “You’ll only distract me.”

  “Very well. Would you care for food?”

  “Yes, please, although in the morning it’s called breakfast. Croissant, orange juice, and strawberry preserves,” she requested as she strolled into the bathroom.

  “I know what breakfast is, Consort,” he retorted.

  Twenty minutes later, she came out of the bedroom to the warm scent of freshly baked croissants. Lucifer stood near the window. His hair was damp and his wings drawn tight against his back, the tips of his primary feathers held above the carpet. Her fingers twitched. She wanted to run them along the feathery edges.

  “If you continue to stare at me in such a manner, I cannot promise I will behave,” he said, turning to face her.

  Analise swallowed and slid onto one of the chairs. The corners of her mouth curved up at the sight of a mixed bowl of fruits next to the basket of croissants. She heaped fruit on a plate and popped a strawberry in her mouth. “Oh my, these are Swanton’s.”

  Buttering a croissant, she broke off a piece and ate it. She glanced up to see Lucifer’s gaze on her. “Would you like to join me? Or am I to be breakfast?”

  “It is a thought,” he replied before taking the chair opposite her.

  She prepared a plate and handed it to him. He took a strawberry and ate it. Despite the lack of expression on his face, she sensed his pleasure.

  “These are the best strawberries in the world,” she said, popping another in her mouth.

  They ate in comfortable silence, which surprised her. Their issues, and there were a few, weren’t resolved but for now life was rather perfect. She glanced at her phone. It was eight-thirty. She had a meeting with the SFPD detective at two p.m., which gave her time to visit the Santa Cruz lab before driving back to San Francisco.

  I will accompany you.

  Her gaze went to Lucifer’s face and a scowl creased her forehead. “Will you please follow rule number one? I don’t need company.”

  He rose from his chair. “I will accompany you, Consort.”

  She huffed. Stubborn. Obdurate. Pig-headed. Difficult.

  “Name-calling does not affect me, Analise Saria. I intend to accompany my Consort.”

  She pushed her chair back and stood. Analise opened her mouth to curse him out. Instead, she threw up her hands and walked into the bedroom. Today wasn’t the day to fight Lucifer over his bossy ways. When she walked back into the room, she glared at him.

  “Consensual sex doesn’t give you rights,” she said.

  “We made love.”

  “Whatever. It still doesn’t give you a say in my life. I haven’t agreed to be your Consort. I’m not sure I even want to see you again.”

  He stared at her, his dark blue eyes enigmatic. When she blinked, he turned and walked to the door. “Coming?”

  Chapter 15

  “How long have you known about Lucifer and me?”

  Mark lowered his blade and observed his employer through his fencing mask. Decidedly pissed. It showed during the first few minutes of their match. Analise’s style was more aggressive than usual, and he sure wasn’t fooled by the casual tone in her voice.

  “Can we discuss this when you don’t have a sword in your hand?”

  “How long?” She pressed.

  He sighed and stepped back. “Two years.”

  Her sword tip pointed toward the floor. “Two years and you didn’t think it important enough to tell me I was going to be a bond-slave to a Seraphim?” She snorted. “Here I thought we were friends.”

  “There were reasons I couldn’t tell you, Empress,” Mark said. “It was also Lucifer’s place to inform you. Also, you’re not a bond slave.”

  Analise snarled and attacked. He blocked her as she went after him with murderous intent. What would she do when she learned he was an archangel? He shuddered just thinking about it. The tip of her sword glanced off his mask. With a smothered curse, he focused on his moves before she accidentally beheaded him.

  As they fenced, Mark smiled. Analise was a gifted warrior and understood the nature of battle. Perceptive and quick to make adjustments, she kept him on the defensive. Her moves were fluid as she parried and blocked him. Like all Tamahaq warriors, Analise was a brilliant strategist. Her feints and thrusts were cunningly deceptive, her returns deadly. She was definitely a daughter of Saria.

  “At what point in our relationship were you planning to tell me?”

  “Lise.” Her sword came perilously close to his thigh, forcing him to retreat. “You need to understand the dangers to you. You’re a supernatural and know better than anyone what will happen if humans and supernaturals clash.”

  With a quick thrust, she hit the mark on his chest. “Don’t ‘Lise’ me,” she panted. “You work for me, not Lucifer. Even if you’re in league with supernaturals, you should have told me.”

  Mark lowered his sword. “I’m not the one in denial’s toilet about who and what she is,” he stated coolly. “You aren’t the only supernatural affected by what Satan does, Analise Willoughby. Time to pull your ass completely from the safe room you and start living.”

  His sword came up at her explosive growl, and he fought for the first time as if he engaged an Expelled. For five minutes, there was only give and take. Analise tried to find ways to penetrate his defenses while he fought to expend her anger. Eventually, her rage died and she stepped away, lowered her sword, and lifted her face mask. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears.

  “You know me better than anyone. Guilt gnaws at me every day, every hour, every second,” Analise said, her voice trembling. “If, and this is a big if, everything is true, there is a heavier price for me to pay.”

  She stared at him. “I’ve already lost my parents, my adoptive parents, Martine, Mei Li, and probably Iris since they haven’t found her. What more do I have to give up? You want to know what scares me? I could lose everything that is me,” she said brokenly. “Everything.”

  Analise came to him and her fingers laid heavily on his chest. “I refuse to give up my humanity. To lose who I am. I love you, Mark, but forgive me for choosing sides. I have lived with guilt since childhood. Every death connected to me is a stain on my hand. I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can handle anymore.”

  Mark pulled her into his arms, her quiet sobs breaking his heart. “I do know you better than anyone. You don’t h
ave to face this on your own, Empress. I’m always here for you. Is Lucifer your life mate, Tamahaq?”

  Analise nodded against his chest. “My soul says he is.”

  “Then you can trust him. As your life mate, he will always be there for you.”

  Analise backed out of Mark’s arms, swiping her wet cheeks with the back of her hand. “I’m going to stick around for an hour. Master Deng wants me to work with a knife along with the sword. He claims if I can do both well, I can kick some serious demon butt.”

  “Master Deng’s words?”

  “Nah,” she said with a short giggle. “Another paraphrase. Go, Mark. I need some me-time.”

  Mark stared at her. Analise had slipped on her emotional armor, which meant the conversation was over. With a reluctant nod, he said, “I’ll send Will to pick you up. Don’t leave the studio until he comes for you.”

  “Go,” she said with exasperation. “I know the drill. Besides, His Holiness has me telepathically microchipped. If I stray too far from home, he’ll be there with the voice. Consort, you are not allowed.”

  Mark’s laughter trailed him as he left the fencing room. He sent a text to Will to pick up Analise in an hour. His unease growing stronger, Mark stopped by the office and spoke briefly to Master Deng.

  Analise spent a few minutes reviewing the fencing mistakes she’d made with Mark, and considering the past ten days of her life. She’d gone from no life to one where she was claimed by a Seraphim, chased by demons, and hit on by uber billionaire Peter Nathanson. While the demons and Peter were trouble enough, they weren’t the actual threat. That title belonged to Lucifer without a last name. He was the clear and present danger.

  Her self-control disappeared whenever he touched her. Her insides sizzled like butter on a sauté pan, and she was ready to run naked down California Street if he promised to taste her. Foolishness had become her middle name around him. No, she wasn’t about to ask his help with her insecurities.