by Eve Newton
“What are you sorry for?” she asks me, sitting down and crossing her legs.
I take in the expanse of her thigh, unable to help myself this time. I’m aroused and she knows it. She can fucking see it, for the love of God. I cringe as that word enters my head and shake it to rid my thoughts of “the other side”. I had no idea all of this really existed before Annabelle had me kidnapped to help her grow into a mature, respected Demon Queen.
She blinks at me, expecting an answer. I take in a deep breath. “I’m sorry that you had to see me in that position. It wasn’t professional.”
I have to be clinical about it, brush it off as it doesn’t mean anything.
“Professional?” she murmurs. “How long have you been seeing her?”
“This was her second session.”
“I see. She had her sights set on you, you know. It’s what she does. Did. Stalker Demons…stalk.”
“I get that now,” I agree with her calmly. She is beyond pissed and it makes me nervous. Not just because of the Demon she incinerated before my eyes, but I need to know why she is so angry.
“So I saved you, really, you know. If she’d gotten her mouth around your cock, you’d have been toast. She’d have been boiling bunnies in your kitchen within a day.”
I stifle my choke of fear, but I can’t help the amused look I give her. “You know about boiling bunnies?”
“Pah,” she scoffs. “You think that I don’t know about your pop culture?”
“Well, I thank you for saving me,” I say smoothly.
It appeases her. She smiles, but there is still a wicked air about her, and I feel that this is not over by a long shot.
“Were you thinking about me when she got to her knees?” she asks with a seductive tone that works on me, a little too well.
“Do you hope that I was?” I reply quietly.
“She looked a bit like me, in a less hot, trashier sort of way.”
“I didn’t notice,” I lie, licking my lips. I sit down in the chair opposite her and lean forward to pick up my notebook. I give it a look of disgust as I shake the remains of the burned Demon off it onto the floor.
“How upsetting,” she murmurs, her eyes heated.
“What do you think about me?” I ask her in the coolest way that I can.
She gives me a surprised look. I’ve thrown her with my question. She uncrosses her legs and leans forward, her elbows on her knees.
“What would you like me to think about you?” she asks with a smile.
I chuckle. “Nicely done. You’re learning.”
“I like you, Gregory,” she says, clasping her hands. “I can talk to you and you listen.”
“It’s my job,” I point out lightly.
“Is it?” she asks, sitting back. “Is it all about your job, Gregory?”
I adore the way she says my name. It is doing nothing to make my dick go down. In fact, it’s even harder.
“I’m your therapist,” I stammer, making sure the book is covering up the bulge in my pants. It’s become a handy tool to have in our sessions.
“So?” she asks with a shrug.
“In the human world, advancing a relationship such as ours is considered taboo.”
Her eyes light up. “Taboo? Oh, now you’re just turning me on, Doc.”
“You like pushing boundaries, don’t you, Annabelle?”
She shrugs. “I’m the most powerful creature in all of Hell. If I can’t push a boundary or two, then where’s the fun?”
“Do you consider me a boundary you want to push?” I am practically panting. This line of questioning is about as unprofessional as it can get, but I simply cannot get her out of my head. I dream about her; I see her when I close my eyes. I imagine her writhing naked on top of me, that cascade of gorgeous hair falling around her shoulders, brushing her nipples as she rides me wildly, using me, leaving me wanting, craving her touch again.
She licks her lips, her eyes narrowed. “How hard do you want me to push?” she asks.
Oh, so hard.
“I’m your therapist,” I say again, more firmly this time. “You can’t push me.”
The disappointment in her eyes makes me want to drop to my knees and beg her to take me as her slave. She feels something for me, I don’t know if it is real or if it’s just because she thinks I’m a man who listens to her and respects her. It is something that she so desperately wants apart from love. It’s classic transference if it’s the latter. If it’s the former, I’m professionally bound to ignore it. I don’t know if I’m strong enough to do that. It took everything I had a moment ago to shut her down.
“Oh, I can push whomever I chose,” she says. “If it’s taboo, then that just makes it even more delicious.”
“Why don’t we talk about what happened last night?” I choke out. The anger that I feel about what she said claws at me. I’m powerless to do anything about it. I would be crushed the second I step out of her residence. As it is, I barely leave these two rooms that encompass my office and my bedroom. I have all my food delivered. I take a walk around once every three days. I know that I’m protected up to a point, if I don’t step outside of the magickal barrier. I know that I get protection from Annabelle, she’s told me as much, but she can’t be there every second to make sure that I don’t get eaten alive inside these walls.
I gulp as my reality hits me again. It does every so often. I was quite comfortable back on Earth. A solid practice in London, good friends, a fiancée. Then one day this Angel flashed into my office and snatched me, bringing me to Hell. Her twin. Annabelle has never been to Earth. She is bound by an eons old rule to only walk the Earth at Armageddon. A rule that her father broke on numerous occasions, in order to claim her mother. I often wonder why she abides by this rule as she seems to enjoy breaking them.
“Annabelle?” I ask as she has gone unusually quiet.
She shrugs petulantly. “I don’t really want to,” she says. “I told you it’s over. Done.”
“Are you sure that is how you feel?” I press.
“Yes,” she states with an emphatic nod. “I do have something to talk about though.”
“Oh?”
“You remember Drescal, the Incubus?”
How could I forget the man that enjoys her body regularly as I wish to? I grimace and try to turn it into a smile. “Of course.”
“Well, he made this epic declaration today.” She beams at me and I press my lips together. “He is retiring, and we are now officially a couple.”
“Oh?” I croak out, unable to form more than this one syllable. I dig the tip of my pen into the notebook to stop myself from stabbing myself in the eye. She deserves better than to be with a Demon who fucks women to condemn them to Hell.
“Yep. He’s going to move in here…”
“He’s moving in with you?” I interrupt her.
“Well, no, not in with me. Just a room down the hall.”
“But you will spend your nights together?” I ask.
She gives me a level look. “Does that bother you, Doc?”
“It appears rather sudden,” I say to cover up. I see her face fall and she bites her lip.
“Do you think I’m making a mistake?” she asks me seriously.
I pause. She listens to me. I could rip this Demon away from her with a few words.
But what kind of therapist, what kind of man, would that make me. Petty, jealous and immature. Three things that I know will turn her off in a big way.
“You are happy with your decision?” I ask instead, wishing that I had the balls to tell her to be with me.
She nods slowly. “Yes,” she says.
I can see that she means it.
“Then that is all that matters, Annabelle,” I say quietly.
She nods happily. “But that’s not all. He knows that only one male won’t cut it for me. So, I’m going to follow in my mother’s footsteps. Have more than one male to please me.”
I blink rapidly as I take in those words.
“More than one?”
“Yeah, the way I see it, I could have half a dozen that focus on different parts, you know, each satisfying me in a different way.”
“Mm-hm.” I tap my pen and then scrawl something in my notebook, which I know annoys her.
“…and who doesn’t want an orgy every night, am I right?” She laughs.
“Right,” I mutter.
“Have you ever had an orgy, Gregory?”
I look up into her eyes and see that cheeky glint there again. She does love to tease me, and I love her doing it. I just wish I could act on it.
“No,” I state. “I have been with only two women, at different times in my life and that’s it.”
She gives me a look of horror. “Two?” she splutters. “Two?”
“Two,” I confirm, holding up two fingers.
“Fucking Hell,” she breathes. “Two?”
I nod.
“How old are you?” It’s a rude question but doesn’t come across that way. She is astounded by my revelation as I knew she would be.
“Thirty,” I tell her.
“Wow,” she exclaims, crossing her legs again. “I mean…wow.”
I wait for her next words, which are exactly what I knew…what I hoped they would be.
“Do you want an orgy, Gregory?” Her voice has gone husky, sexy and alerts my dick once again to bulge up.
“Are you offering?” I ask with a dismissive smile. I want her to think about it. I want her to think about it so hard, she needs it in her life, or she will go mad. “Do you want to corrupt me, Annabelle?”
She narrows her eyes at me. “Oh, you’re a wicked male, Doctor Gregory. I would corrupt your little innocent soul so bad you wouldn’t know what hit you. I would have you begging for more, begging me to have mercy on you as I show you one more move that will make your eyes so wide, they will fall out of your head. Metaphorically,” she adds unnecessarily.
Or maybe not down here. Maybe eyes do fall out literally.
“It’s taboo,” I remind her softly.
“Ooh,” she moans, throwing her head back. “I’m so wet right now.”
I can’t. I shouldn’t, but I can’t help myself.
“What are you going to do about it?” I whisper.
“Go and find myself a hot, giant Gargoyle and ride him until he weeps,” she says smartly, giving me such a sassy smile, I nearly weep.
“Off you go then,” I mutter. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She blows me a kiss and stands up, vanishing from my sight, allowing me to groan and pull my dick out of my pants. I pump away, needing the release. I shove my notebook aside and stand up, moving over to the chair where she sits. I can smell her perfume and close my eyes, jerking off until I come all over the leather chair. Now when she sits there tomorrow, I’ll know what I did, and I’ll enjoy torturing her until she can’t stand it anymore. There is only one way I can see this happening now and that is if she comes to me. It’s unethical, it goes against everything I was taught and that I believe in, but I don’t care. My life, that life is over. I’m here now and it’s time that I truly accept that and make the most of it while I can.
17
Annabelle
I stare out of my bedroom window at the sin bin. I can see the Serpent Demon, Razor, from last night, regaling it over a crowd of weak females. They are hanging on his every word and it pisses me off. I want to go down there, slice his guts out and burn them. But I know who he is now.
Razor.
His name has popped up on Shax’s radar as one of those to keep an eye on. He is vocal about Hell being ruled by a female. He has so far stayed out of my way. I’ve never crossed paths with him before, except last night I appeared in the wrong place at the wrong time. Well, you know what they say about keeping your enemies close. I lean my head on the cool window and sigh. I’m so tired but there is still so much to do today. Unlike regular Demons, I need to sleep. The others don’t require it to keep functioning, they just do it to pass away a few hours of every day.
“Annabelle!”
I groan. “Fuck off,” I mutter, recognizing the creepy voice in my head.
“I’m waiting, Annabelle. As soon as you close your eyes, you’ll be mine.”
“Good luck with that,” I snap.
“You’ll succumb. I can feel the exhaustion seeping in. That power is draining you, Annabelle. You need to sleep, girlie. How will you defeat Lucifer if you don’t?”
I grimace but ignore him this time. I push off from the window and flame out to the sin bin with extra hot flames so that they all know to back the fuck off from me and so it is clear that my powers are in perfect working order.
I land right in front of Razor. His eyebrows go up, but his casual stance doesn’t alter. He is seated in a highbacked chair as three naked females are practically crawling all over him. They back off as I stride forward, a sultry smile on my face. Killing him will only annoy his followers and that is something that I don’t want to deal with right now. Factions are common and they come with the territory. As long as I remain the strongest, and I am, then Dad told me not to bother too much with them, unless they become a serious problem. So far, Razor has been all talk, up to last night. But I intend to make sure he knows I’m on to him.
He adopts a wary air, but doesn’t move as I lean in, resting my hands on the arms of his chair and giving him a good view of my cleavage. His snake’s tongue flicks out of his mouth, tickling me between my breasts, but I ignore it instead of wrapping it around my fingers and yanking it out of his mouth.
“Did you enjoy fucking me last night?” I whisper to him.
“Did you?” he asks back, but his tone is cautious.
“Mm,” I murmur. “I always wondered what it would be like with one of your kind.”
“I’m happy to oblige you again…Your Majesty.” The sarcasm is evident in his last two words, but I ignore it.
“Don’t wait too long,” I murmur.
He gives me a smug grin, which I wipe off his face by turning to the side so that everyone can see my next action. I lean in even closer and give his face a salacious lick, letting him and everyone else know exactly how I see him. He is my property and now everyone knows it.
I give a wicked laugh as I walk away from him, red-faced and spluttering with indignation. Sure, it’ll aggravate him, but now that I have his number and he knows I’m not scared of him, he might think twice about acting again so soon.
Feeling marginally better, I head off to deal with the other asshole who touched me.
I flame out mid-stride to the area of Hell where the Gargoyles live.
It is all high buildings and cold stone here, unsurprisingly. What is surprising is that when I ask to see Aleister, I’m escorted to the very top of the highest building, via Gargoyle flight.
“Thanks,” I mutter as the Gargoyle escort drops me gently to the floor and then flaps off. I look around and my breath catches.
“Wow,” I say before I cringe. I’m supposed to be all cool and what not and here I am gaping in amazement at the view stretched out before me. Of course, that view also includes Aleister, perched on the building’s ledge, as the most enormous Gargoyle I have ever seen.
His big globe eyes are taking in every inch of me as he stretches out wings that must span several meters on either side. He flaps them briefly as he leaps off the ledge, shifting before his feet hit the ground.
I brush my windswept hair out of my face and move closer to him. I’m drawn to him in an almost physical way. It’s startling and amazing.
I gaze up at him. He is looking down at me with those beautiful eyes, adoration swimming in them. He takes my hand silently and leads me over to the ledge.
“It’s gorgeous,” I exclaim quietly.
“It’s yours,” he replies steadily. “Of course it is.”
I actually blush and look down, curling my hair behind my ear.
“That’s where you live,” he adds, and I follow his pointed finger to see
the black gothic structure on the horizon.
“Yep,” I whisper.
I turn to him.
He turns to me, taking my other hand.
I tilt my head back to look up at him, parting my lips, hoping he will lean down and kiss me.
He doesn’t.
“You are here to exact punishment?” he asks.
“Yes,” I rasp. He has taken my breath away. I have never felt so exhilarated by a male before.
He nods once and then leads me into the building.
It has a walkway all around an empty space in the middle that drops to who knows where. He gathers me up in his arms, cradling me.
“Hold on,” he whispers, sprouting his wings, leaping up and then dropping straight into the hole.
“Eek!” I squeal as the air that rushes past me, is fast and cold. Needless to say, I clutch him in a death grip that I’m reluctant to break when he lands lightly on his feet at the bottom of the building, which must be seventy stories minimum.
“Fucking Hell,” I pant.
He grins down at me, stashing his wings.
“I’ve amazed the Demon Queen,” he chuckles.
My eyes roam over his gorgeous face. “Oh, I’m amazed all right.”
His eyes go wide, and he lets go of me, placing me back on my feet and resuming his almost shy air.
He is too precious.
He takes my hand again and leads me off to the side and down some stone steps. We circle around and around until we get to what is most definitely the dungeon.
Quietly, he walks forward, his giant strides forcing me to jog to keep up with him. He stops suddenly where a small Gargoyle is chained to a wall. His arms are up, spread out above his head, his legs also apart and chained. He is tiny compared to Aleister and I figure he must be fairly new.
I stifle my gasp of surprise as Aleister gets to his knees and bows his head. “As his Master, I offer him up for punishment by your hand, my Queen. I will also accept any sentence that you place on my head for allowing him to violate you.”
“Him, I want,” I say harshly, bringing Babe to my hand and clutching it tightly. “But you are free from blame and retribution.” I absolve Aleister because not even the hounds of Hell could make me hurt him. It would cause me pain to raise my bat to him and that is something that I have never felt before. “Rise,” I order him.
