by Cate Corvin
Perhaps he was seeking asylum, too.
The Overseers quickly backed out of the ring, prodding the hellhounds away until they were safely behind the wall or gates. As soon as they were gone, the feral beasts turned on the new blood fighters, their eyes gleaming with madness.
Belial raised a hand and snapped his fingers. The iron muzzles broke open with sharp clanks and fell away, along with the chains cuffing their necks.
Their growls rippled through the dead-silent arena, the echoes combining and growing into a noise like thunder.
Several of the new fighters went pale, but I watched as the bat-winged Nephilim raised his sword, completely impassive. Belial might’ve thrown a couple of lambs at him for all the reaction he had.
“To the death!”
The hellhounds lunged left and right, streaming between legs and knocking demons over. I held back a wince as the sound of crunching bones filled the air, and the demons in the stands began cheering again, growing wilder with every passing minute.
Within five minutes, the Nephilim was the only fighter left standing. His blade slashed and whipped, cutting through hellhounds like a white-hot poker through butter, spraying scarlet blood all over his skin.
The final hellhound was the biggest of all, the wiliest. It circled the Nephilim carefully, but the male just gave the creature a cold look, and threw the sword.
It spun through the air and impaled itself in the hellhound’s chest. The beast slowly collapsed to the floor to thunderous applause.
I dared to glance at Belial again, who gave the Nephilim a considering look. The bat wings rustled and tucked in against the male’s back. He hadn’t taken so much as a single scratch.
It looked like Belial had a new star for his show. I felt vaguely sick at the thought that Tascius would be pitted against this one.
This Nephilim still had his wings, the powerful healing ability that made him nearly untouchable. Despite my faith in Tascius, he no longer had those advantages.
“Who are you?” Belial’s quiet words barely traveled past the arena floor, but I caught them clearly enough.
The Nephilim straightened. “Adranos.”
“Son of…?” Belial prompted, but despite his curiosity, he didn’t look entirely pleased.
I realized that Adranos must’ve had a strong demonic heritage to possess both beauty and wings. Whoever his parents were, he wasn’t saying it loudly.
He stepped closer to Belial’s dais as he spoke, his answer too quiet to hear.
Belial’s face split into a wolfish grin. “Very well. Then join us. The Overseer will ink my mark on your palm.”
Adranos just nodded, as impassive as he was before he’d slaughtered a pack of hellhounds, and followed one of the Overseers back into the depths of the arena. He seemed like he didn’t hear the shouts of the spectators at all despite how obviously enamored they were.
Belial stood up. Blood had been splattered across his calves and his white shirt. He raised his chin, the lights above illuminating his strong-boned features.
“Perhaps it’s someone else’s lucky day,” he said, and the demons booed. “Who will be ruined next?”
They began chanting for Chain Sister, a fighter I’d never met.
Oddly, I had no stomach left to watch the carnage. If Belial wasn’t allowing bets tonight, there was no point in being here to try to win Tascius or Blind Luck.
I felt my Nephilim somewhere near, an almost-physical pull, and being able to do nothing about it just enraged and saddened me in equal measure.
“I’m done tonight,” I murmured to Azazel. “Procure these invitations, please? I need something to take my mind off things.”
The Watcher had been… well, watching the Nephilim with the same disquiet I had. He turned distant violet eyes up to me, tiny stars swirling in their depths. “You want to fight?”
I managed a smile. “Doesn’t that qualify as training?” The dark fire of my magic was already prickling at my veins.
Azazel stood up slowly, casting me in shadow. “For you, it does.” He took my hand and brushed a kiss across my knuckles, not showy enough to make a scene.
Just obvious enough to draw Belial’s gaze like a striking snake.
Azazel gave me a secretive smile and vanished, winking out of existence and leaving nothing but a swirl of mist behind.
I descended the dais, holding up my skirts so they wouldn’t drag through a puddle of congealing blood on my way out.
I’d just passed an open gateway when a pair of strong hands grabbed me, yanking me into the privacy of darkness. For a hopeful split-second, I thought Tascius was there, that he’d slipped Belial’s orders for a few moments alone.
Instead, glittering aqua eyes glared down at me as Belial dragged me further down the corridor.
He spun around and pushed me against the wall, holding my hands above my head.
“Leaving so soon, angel?” Belial’s lips moved against my ear, hushed and intimate even though there was no one around to witness us.
I was sure I wasn’t imagining the weakening in my knees, or that the heat coming off him was more than just rage.
“I’m free, remember?” I spat back. “I go where I want, when I want.”
“And I hope it’s treating you well,” he said, his voice lowering to a growl. “Freedom clearly… suits you.”
He released one of my hands to brush the feather Lucifer had given me. In the dim light, it was just possible to make out the sneer on his full lips.
“Jealousy doesn’t suit you.”
I braced my hand on his chest, meaning to push him away, but touching him at all was a mistake.
There was nothing I wanted more than to rip his shirt open and see if the marks I’d made on him were still there.
I knew I didn’t deserve even that much.
“Why are you wearing Lucifer’s token?” he asked, his growl becoming a smooth purr, like he was trying to lure me into a trap.
I raised my chin, refusing to look away. “I can choose to wear the token of whomever I like. What does it matter to you?”
“It doesn’t matter to me at all.” Even though it was obviously a blatant lie, hearing that still hurt. He smiled when he saw that his barb had struck home. It was impossible to hold back my grimace. “So you’ve stolen half my Circle and the heart of the Prince of Hell. If I’d known you had such high aspirations, I would’ve made it easy and never marked you at all.”
I sucked in a sharp breath. “That is too low a blow, Belial. I didn’t come here to fuck my way into ruling Hell.”
“From where I stand, surely you can see why that explanation is complete bullshit.” Belial pushed my braid with Lucifer’s feather over my shoulder, where he couldn’t see it. Like he couldn’t stand to see it.
“I never asked you to mark me,” I said quietly, but pain crept into my voice.
If he would do it again, I would never remove it. How was it so hard to say something so simple aloud?
“Did you ask Lucifer?”
His tone was sharp again, the purr hidden under the snarl.
I licked my lips, my breath shallowing. Being this close to Belial was like torture for both body and mind. As angry as I was at his prodding, I still wanted him. He was so close, and yet so far away.
“He offered. I accepted. Simple as that.” I forced myself to hold his gaze even though I wanted to shrink under it. I felt about three inches tall.
“I’m sure you gave him one of yours in return.” He saw the answer written all over my face, and his eyes hardened to crystalline ice. “So Lucifer and the Nephilim are worthy of your high regard.”
“Belial…” I forced myself to not whisper. There were so many things that needed to be said. “I didn’t make that bet to escape you. I wanted to stay here, but I needed you to know I was serious about my plans, and I need power to accomplish them. I’m sor-”
“Oh, you’ll get your revenge, I’m sure.” He cut me off, eyes narrowed. “The last thing I want
to hear is your apologies. See, even if you asked me to mark you again- if you got down on your knees and begged me- you don’t deserve my regard.”
I was struck silent, my throat aching. Tears burned the corners of my eyes as he leaned in close. Only his hot, seething anger kept me from trying to kiss him, from making him feel how sorry I was for ruining everything.
“Your tokens are cheap. You’d rather break your bonds than put a single drop of faith in someone who did everything in their power to make you happy.”
Belial dropped my hands in disgust as a tear broke free and slid down my cheek.
“You deserve each other.”
He strode away, leaving me alone in the darkness of the tunnel.
I bit down on my knuckle hard, but not even the pain stopped the tears from sliding down my face. I cried until they ran dry, then wiped my face, steeling my resolve as I listened to new fighters dying on the arena floor.
I tucked the regret and sadness away, locked it behind an iron door deep inside me. It would only hold me back from doing what I needed to do.
I’d had no faith in Belial, and now his faith in me was completely broken.
Even if it killed me, I would earn it back.
9
Melisande
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
Azazel stroked my cheek, his thumb catching the remains of a tear I hadn’t wiped away well enough.
I took a deep breath of Nightside air, my fists clenched at my sides. My chest felt like iron bands were steadily tightening around me, making it hard to breathe.
Belial hadn’t come back. I’d left the arena with all the dignity I could muster, but the demons were blinded by bloodlust for the upcoming fight, and I’d managed to escape more or less unnoticed.
My Chainlings had refused to leave my side until Azazel appeared in a swirl of smoky stars, his face going dark as he took in my expression.
“There is nothing you need to fear from confiding in me,” he said, his thumb brushing my lip. “And there’s no shame in feeling sorrow.”
I blinked hard. Several glowing fireflies drifted past, fracturing my vision into a thousand points of light. “I loathe crying in front of other people. Actually, I loathe crying, period.”
The sound of beating wings filled the air and went silent. A dark presence rose behind me, a pair of hands landing on my shoulders and enveloping them.
“Why are you crying?” Lucifer asked quietly, his tone dangerous. “Is there someone I should kill?”
I scrubbed my hand across my eyes, trying to erase all signs of my weakness. “I’m crying because I was told something I deserved to hear, but I’m done now.”
Lucifer’s hands tightened, his fingers pressing into my arms. “I’ll take care of this.”
“No,” I said, at the exact moment Azazel snapped, “And start another war?”
The fallen angel was silent for a long moment, in which I knew he was likely contemplating all manner of ways to pull Belial from his fortress and kill him.
“I don’t need you to handle him for me.” I placed one of my hands over his, stroking his fingers. “I can handle him. And he was right. Everything he did for me… I threw it back in his face like it meant nothing.”
A strange emotion flickered in Azazel’s eyes, and he looked away.
“I know what I did,” I said, my voice hollow. “It wasn’t a brand. He gave me a mating mark, and I broke it.”
The Watcher’s lips twisted. “We’re not accusing you of anything.”
“You don’t need to. It must’ve been… extraordinarily painful for him to break that bond. It hurt me, and I probably felt only a fraction of it.” I pressed my blank left palm against my chest with a wince. “Do you think it was? Be truthful.”
Lucifer sighed. “It was, but you shouldn’t blame yourself. You didn’t know.”
“And that’s the problem. I should’ve known. His actions were never meant to harm me, but because of his words, all I did was assume I was his prisoner. His slave. I didn’t take the scales from my eyes.” My voice broke and I finished with a whisper. “I was blind to everything around me. I still am.”
Azazel made a movement like he meant to hold me back when I turned to look up at Lucifer.
A gasp tore out of me.
He was bloody, yellow and plum bruises rising around his eye sockets, his cheekbones, his chest. His lower lip had been split, and slowly healed as I watched.
All at once, my sorrow flared with anger. “What is doing this to you?”
I closed my eyes, summoning my magic to the surface. The white fire was easier to find this time, dancing through the black flames like it sensed Lucifer was near.
I cupped it in my hands and pressed them flat against his chest, letting my power cross into his wounded body.
Lucifer sighed, wincing as his lip healed over and the bruises slowly faded.
“There are some things it’s better for you to not know, Melisande.”
My eyelids cracked open and I scowled up at him. “If you want me to keep healing you, I want answers.”
I had an unshakeable conviction that whatever was doing this to Lucifer… it was because of me.
I’d been nothing but an inconvenient mess for them from the moment I’d crash-landed in Hell. I was tired of being everyone’s problem.
If they could be shields for me, it was only right that they let me shield them, too.
Azazel’s clipped tones grew soft. “Just let yourself have peace.”
My magic finally burned out, having done all it could for Lucifer. At least his wounds were no longer sluggishly bleeding. I kept my hands splayed over his chest, taking comfort in his warmth. “Lucifer, Azazel… do I strike you as being made of glass?”
“No,” Lucifer said with a slight smile. “More like very thorny iron.”
“If you’re glass, it’s because you want to cut everyone around you,” Azazel muttered.
“True. There are many, many things I don’t want to hear.” I flexed my fingers, just barely digging my nails into Lucifer’s inked skin. “But if it’s something to do with one of you, while I’m wearing a feather that proclaims you as mine, then I want to hear it. All of it. In extreme detail. What hurts you, hurts me.”
Lucifer’s silver eyes flicked from me to Azazel, and back down to my face. I felt his acquiescence before he even sighed. “Very well. Only because I want there to be no secrets between us.”
A pang of guilt bit at me. My scarred palm told a story I didn’t want many in Hell to hear… but if Lucifer trusted me enough to claim me for himself, I would need to trust him.
“My father is determined to have you for himself.” His gaze hardened, but he looked distant, like he was seeing something else besides me. Something horrifying. “Satan is nothing but a creature of cruel, endless appetite.”
Azazel shifted uncomfortably, and I reached out to touch his arm reassuringly. He might share that in common with Satan, but he was nothing like the Red Dragon. Not even in the slightest.
“I made it very clear that you were not going to become one of his Brides. I took you for myself.” Lucifer brushed the feather in my hair, and his smile came back. This time it was brittle. “He didn’t take it well.”
“Satan’s been doing this to you?” I whispered, horrified.
How much torment could a body stand, even that of a fallen prince, before it broke?
“He felt your bond to Belial break. That sort of breaking has repercussions. Everyone in Hell who’s gifted with the slightest hint of magic felt it dissolve, and they all knew you were no longer under his protection.”
“So he thought he could come back.” I lowered my head, leaning against Lucifer’s chest. “The night I left the Brightside…”
“I went into the Pit to stop him from climbing out.” Lucifer stroked my shoulders reassuringly, but there was nothing reassuring about his words. “He sent his little puppets out to search for you. But by wearing my token, you have… some
small measure of protection.”
“But it’s not as strong as the soul-brand?” I asked, my voice dull.
He paused in his stroking. “No. It’s enough to make it clear where my allegiances lay. A soul-brand would be stronger.”
I winced. As lovely as that protection sounded, I didn’t want Lucifer to brand me for the sake of my own safety. Not on that level. It was something that should be given because I wanted to belong to him, not because I needed him.
“The token is fine. As long as he knows. I just…” I looked back up at him, guilt constricting my chest. “I just wish you could stay away from him. Every time you defy him, he punishes you, and it’s all over me. I’m not worth that sort of pain, Lucifer.”
His lips pressed into a flat line. “You don’t get to tell me what you’re worth. I can decide that for myself.”
“Even if it means getting the shit kicked out of you by Satan?” I asked incredulously.
Lucifer gripped one of my hands almost hard enough to hurt. “Free will. If I decide I’m capable of getting my teeth kicked in, then so be it.”
“This is one of the reasons we were insistent on training your magical abilities,” Azazel said. He dragged a hand through his dark curls. “You can heal the injuries caused by Satan’s fury. Very few Hell-born demons can claim that, but an angel… an angel, even a fallen one, has inherent abilities. Your holy provenance dispels the Dragon’s touch.”
“Lucifer…” I set my jaw, glaring up at him, but there was nothing I could do to stop him.
“Melisande?” he asked, arching an eyebrow.
I let out an exasperated groan.
“Let us be the arbiters of what we can handle, Melisande.” Azazel raised my chin, forcing me to look at him. “No, don’t glare at me like that. We will not allow Satan to have you, understand?”
“I understand,” I said quietly. Even if I hated that they put themselves on the line for me, and I had never even told them why I was here.
“Now, you promised me magical training tonight.” Azazel’s deep voice was all business again. “And you can work out your anger in the ring.”
