by Cate Corvin
Lucifer’s eyes flicked towards my own mouth, and my heart skipped a beat.
I opened my mouth to say something, anything, to break this unbearable tension. This was the Morningstar, Heaven’s Public Enemy Number Two, and all I could think about was how badly I wanted to kiss him-
Lucifer closed the gap, his tongue sliding between my lips and forcing me to open wider for him. Every nerve in my body lit up like I’d been struck by lightning. His lips were soft and warm, melding against mine perfectly, his tongue caressing the inside of my mouth.
There was no way to stop myself arching against him, nails digging into his shoulders to pull him closer. Heat burst to life inside me, urging me on no matter the consequences.
I nipped his lip, drawing a faint groan out of him, and attacked him with the same fervor.
His hips ground into me, driving the hard length of him against me.
Within seconds I was completely determined to slide his pants off. I ran my hands over the silky planes of his chest and stomach, my fingers tracing every ripple of muscle until I found the button of his pants.
To my surprise, he gripped my wrist, stopping me from going any further. His silver eyes glittered as he looked down at me, breaking the kiss.
I was breathing hard, still pressed against him like we were trying to merge together.
“Why stop now?” I asked hoarsely.
Lucifer just licked kiss-swollen lips, his gaze boring right through me.
I tried to break my wrist from his grip, but he held me fast. His own chest was rising and falling rapidly, the tattoos almost seeming to move over his skin in the half-light cast by his wings.
“I won’t have this be something you regret or hold against me.” He sounded rougher than I’d ever heard him before.
“Lucifer…” I slid my free hand back up, cupping his cheek. He leaned his head into my hand, the heat of his skin burning against mine. “I won’t have any regrets. I already know I’m not going back.”
He shook his head, anger flashing in his eyes. “And there’s the problem. I don’t fuck people because they feel like they have nothing left to lose.”
I dropped my hand, the sting of his words like a strike to the heart.
Was that really what he thought of me?
He paused, seeming to sense my emotions despite the cool mask of indifference I’d pulled on, and leaned in to brush one more gentle kiss across my lips like he was trying to ease the sting.
I closed my eyes, and his weight vanished. When I opened them again, Lucifer was gone, and I was alone in my empty bedroom.
Sleep didn’t come easy. Lucifer’s words circled in my head, followed by irritation at myself.
It’d been the stupidest thing I could’ve said to him.
I no longer cared about getting back to Heaven, at least not permanently. Of course what I’d said had made it sound like he was a last resort, something I was willing to do only because I was already damned. I’d made it sound like I’d given up.
Not like I wanted him too, like every cell in me craved his presence.
Eventually I gave up on sleep entirely and showered, washing off every trace of the night before and pulling on training clothes. This was nothing a little exercise couldn’t fix.
And maybe by the end of it, I’d have some idea of how to convince Lucifer that no, I didn’t just want him because I had nothing left to lose.
Truthfully, I suddenly felt like I did have something to lose now. More than I’d had in Heaven.
Tascius, my own choice, my stalwart friend, was essential to me. Hell, I even liked the fanatic demons who wore feathers in solidarity for my battles.
What had I had in Heaven? A spear. A bed. A place in the nameless, faceless ranks of the Choir of Righteous Fury. Potentially a mate chosen by the Choir of Creation without my input or consideration.
And my orders. Following Gabriel’s word at all costs.
I spread my fingers and looked at the blackened sigil covering my left palm. Even soul-bound to Belial, he’d let me try to fly away. He’d connived Azazel into allowing it. He gave me challenges in the arena, forcing me to become better than I’d ever been before, and demons who appreciated the art of war and blood.
Even the Prince of Wrath had done more for me than Gabriel. I adored the arena, the glittering high of a thousand demons pumped up to win. I loved Vyra and her need to make everything beautiful despite the fear she lived with. Her inner strength was admirable.
This was a thousand times better than Heaven. I couldn’t fathom going back for good now that I’d experienced this.
I had my choice left to lose.
Suddenly I understood what Lucifer had meant by free will.
“I get it, Morningstar,” I muttered, curling my hand into a fist. “Free will is a nice thing to have.”
I heaved a sigh and left my quarters. Blind Luck lounged on the couch in front of the fire, arms folded behind his head, but he made no move to fuck with me.
Lady Savage, curled in a chair, barely looked up from her book. “Nice work with the manticore.” I glanced at her sidelong, and she waggled crimson talons at me. “I personally would’ve gone for the guts, but the whole burning-it-from-the-inside-out was a nice touch.”
It hit me. I’d won my fifth round. I’d earned the right to be here.
The difference between Heaven and Hell made my head spin. Choirs held grudges, and rarely let go of them, no matter how hard an angel tried to make up for their transgression.
Here in Hell, as long as you paid your dues, you were in and that was that.
“I’ll keep the guts in mind for next time,” I said, heading for the door.
Lady Savage nodded, turning a page. “Perhaps we should get together for some disemboweling practice sometime. I knew a guy who was great at that stuff. Practically an artist in gut-stringing.”
I nodded and managed to escape. Being Lady Savage’s friend sounded almost as pleasant as being her enemy, and I’d been raised on bloodthirst.
Tascius was already in the training room, gripping a blunt two-handed broadsword. I took a second to watch his form twist through various stances, each one perfect and taut with barely-restrained violence.
The scars on his back moved with him. Even though he’d lived most of his life without them, he had the stance of someone who knew that he was supposed to have wings, like he could burst into flight if he tried hard enough.
Sadness tightened my throat at the sight.
“Tascius.”
He turned easily, like I was an approaching enemy and he’d already known I was there.
I crossed the room in a few quick strides and reached up to cup his face, brushing a strand of white hair from his high cheekbone. He closed his eyes, leaning into the touch and lowering his sword.
“You know that you are mine.” I put every drop of determination I possessed into the words, hoping he felt them in his soul.
He opened his eyes, pupils widening to fill in the midnight of his irises. The sadness I’d first seen in him was back, melting my heart that I could do nothing to fix it. His lips were still set firmly in displeasure.
I wondered if he’d been imagining slicing Lucifer to bits with that sword.
“The token was only ever a token.” His words were so quiet I barely caught them.
I covered his lips with my thumb. “It was a gift because I chose you, and you belong to me. I’m not going back to Heaven, or anywhere in Hell, without you.”
The broadsword hit the floor with a loud clunk. Tascius wrapped his arms around me, pulling me in close. I pulled in a breath before those thick biceps threatened to crush me.
“Same for you,” he said, but there was a growl in his tone.
“Lucifer is no threat to me. So as much as you’d like to carve him to pieces, I hope you’d just do it in your head instead. Wherever he takes me, I want you with me, too. There is no competition.” I touched the feather in his braid. “I’ve already claimed you, and I’m ne
ver taking it back.”
Tascius sighed, but there was a glimmer of amusement in his gaze, the sadness finally retreating. “I don’t think you can expect all of us to be in a room together without a little tension, friend.”
“You can all fight as much as you want, as long as it remains hands-off. I don’t want any of your pretty faces messed up.”
He lowered his face to kiss my cheek, his lips tracing a blazing trail down to my lips. “Oh, you think I’m pretty?”
I kissed him back, running my tongue over his full lower lip. “Very, very pretty, my friend. And black looks so good on you, I don’t think I could bear it if you ever took that feather off.”
“Never gonna happen.” Tascius picked me up, and I wrapped my legs around his waist, and my arms around his neck. His cock was already hard, rubbing against the thin fabric separating us.
The warmth I’d tried suppressing all night came roaring back to life inside me. It took all my willpower not to wriggle against him any more than necessary, but I failed. His eyes were already darkening, the Nephilim hunger rising to the surface of his soul.
“Back up your words with actions,” I whispered, leaning in to lick the hard cord of muscle standing out in his neck.
Tascius took a deep breath, chest expanding against me, and before I knew what was happening, he’d lifted me with one arm, yanked down the stretchy fabric of my pants, and slid a finger inside me.
I gasped and squirmed in his grip, but he rolled down his own pants, freeing his cock and angling it against my wet pussy.
He slid inside me and gripped my hips, pumping me up and down. I bit my lip, trying my hardest not to make any noise that would draw an Overseer, but Tascius kissed me when I lifted up, nibbling my lip until he’d opened my mouth.
“Don’t,” he snarled, and I stopped trying to stifle myself. All I could do was cling for dear life to his shoulders as his cock slammed into me.
My clit rubbed against his chiseled Adonis belt with every stroke until the heat was raging from my pussy up into my chest. Every one of my muscles tensed when Tascius ground into me, his cock stretching me wide.
“Come with me,” I gasped when I felt the first wave of the climax sweep over me. “I want you to come in me.” My legs were shaking. He pulled me against him so hard it almost hurt, burying every inch of his cock inside me and grinding against my clit.
Tascius obviously didn’t care if it was a terrible idea, if any potential child of ours would be Nephilim, too. His lips drew back in a feral growl, his cock pulsing.
My eyes rolled back when I clenched around him, shuddering as stars burst behind my eyelids. The wave of pleasure took my breath out of my lungs.
Tascius groaned, sliding out and pounding in until I felt him harden. He came with another snarl, his teeth grazing my neck.
I was panting, my limbs feeling loose and oddly jelly-like. I rested my head on his shoulder, running my fingers along his collarbone, which gleamed with sweat.
“At this rate we’re going to end up mates whether you want it or not,” he said, his breath still ragged.
I looked up into clear eyes, the hope gleaming there. I didn’t care what he was or if the rest of Hell hated his kind; if I was free to make my own choices, I would always choose him.
“Tascius, my friend. That was entirely the point of this exercise.”
His eyebrows slid upwards. “I see.”
“A token is not just a token anymore.” I gripped him harder, not wanting to be detached from any part of his body. “I don’t need any fucking paperwork to tell me what I want.”
“Are you sure? What if I have paperwork in my bed?”
I pretended to consider it, playing with the hair spilling out of his ponytail. “Hmm. Maybe we should go upstairs so you can show me this… paperwork. It might be important.”
“Oh, it’s important. So important I usually keep it in my pants.”
“What are you waiting for, then?” I nipped his ear, waiting for him to put me down. There was no way to walk out of here with his cock still inside me.
Tascius leaned his forehead against mine, gazing deep into my eyes. “If I still had my wings, I’d give you one of mine.”
I tried to smile, but knowing that the lack of them pained him made it hard. After I killed Satan, I’d find a way to give him flight again.
“I’ve got all of you, and that’s a thousand times better.”
28
Melisande
Belial caught me only moments after Tascius had left my room. I dragged a brush through my hair, trying to fix the obvious bedhead before I went back to the training rooms, but the wall slid open and Belial strode in like he owned the place.
I reminded myself that he did own the place. And me, by extension.
“I have a gift for you, angel.” His feline purr tickled my skin from ten feet away. “Wear something presentable. This isn’t training time.”
I shot a glare at him, but there was no heat in it. “What constitutes presentable, in your opinion? Something transparent?”
Belial chuckled, bracing his hands on the door frame and leaning in. “If that’s what you choose, I won’t stop you.”
I put the brush back on the dressing table and strode to the chest Vyra had left for me. I desperately wanted to see the succubus again. She’d managed to worm her way into my heart without my even noticing.
“I’m not changing until you leave,” I told him archly.
Belial looked me up and down, licked his lips, and gave me a wicked grin. “I’m not bothered at all, go ahead.”
“Get out!” He just laughed again when I hissed, and the gap in the wall vanished, giving me privacy.
I paused, wondering if he was able to see through the walls… then decided it was better for my mental fortitude if I didn’t contemplate that too deeply.
Azazel and Vyra had apparently conspired to bring me an entire wardrobe of the leather clothes that repelled demon venom. I found new pieces mixed in with silk and chiffon dresses, and eventually decided on a mix between the two: a pair of leather pants with a half-skirt split at the sides, and a pair of armguards with spangled gauze attached to the neck and shoulders like a cape.
Vyra would be so proud. Even my thoughts were dry as I pulled on the clothes. I was slowly losing my immunity to pretty, sparkly things.
I’d barely raised my hand to knock when the hidden door slid open.
Belial held a dark cloak draped over his arm, which he gallantly held out to me. I took it, brushing his arm with my fingertips as I did, and a shiver went down my spine.
“This way.” He proffered an arm, and I slid mine through his before he swept me away. My trepidation mounted as we took the path towards the stables where Arcturus lived, and bright sunlight blasted me in the eyes.
“Why do I need a cloak?” I asked while I let my eyes adjust to the brilliant gold-and-scarlet flare. “It’s hot as… you know.”
Belial looked down at me with a slight smile. “It’s not for the cold. It’s for if you grow tired of eyes on you.”
I gritted my teeth as he led me to the stables, a massive construct of ebony-wood that crawled with imps. Arcturus was in the field, munching coals, and he came prancing up to the fence as Belial passed.
The Prince reached out to stroke the horse’s nose. It never failed to throw me off balance, the way he juxtaposed his love of extreme violence with a gentleness for things weaker than him.
Things like that horse. Or me.
Several imps leered at me as we passed through the archway into the stables. My eyes were subjected to total darkness again, but flickers of pale blue ghost-light arced through the air towards the back.
My mouth fell open when I could see clearly again.
He’d converted half the stable into a chamber filled with fog, and the dark horse glaring at us in the middle was just as otherworldly as Arcturus. She tossed a mane shot through with white streaks, and that pale light lit up inside her like lightning, illum
inating her bones for a split-second and flashing through the mist.
She was ghostly lightning bottled in an equine body.
“This is Capheira.” Belial reached out, and Capheira sidled forwards to place her nose against his palm, like she was reluctantly deigning to acknowledge him, but her star-filled eyes closed in pleasure.
“How could Azazel trade something like her away?” I edged closer to the gate, but she was so beautiful it almost seemed like a crime to touch her.
Belial had that cat-like look of satisfaction again. “Because he knows I’m better with horses than he is. But she’s not for me. She’s for you.”
He pressed something into my palm, and I held up a rough lump of golden sugar.
Capheira’s eyes snapped open, zeroing in on the sugar with laser-like focus. I held out my hand, keeping my fingers flat, and she stretched her neck out.
A soft horse mouth nuzzled my palm as she lit up again with another jolt of internal lightning, illuminating the skull plucking the sugar from my hand.
“You are such a beauty,” I whispered. Capheira swallowed the sugar whole and preened, tossing her head again for my benefit. I slowly reached to touch the silky strands of her mane, and she took another step closer, then another, until her head butted against my chest.
“Belial, she’s… the most perfect horse in Hell.”
I stroked the short, inky hairs along her neck, earning another headbutt.
He grinned, triumph flashing in his eyes. “Then we should take her out. She won’t like to spend all her time in here.” He handed me a velvet bag that I tied to my belt. “More sugar. Don’t give her too many or she’ll be spoiled.”
“I’m spoiled,” I said, still entranced by the stars dancing in Capheira’s eyes.
“And what did I tell you?” Belial was at my elbow, his fingers brushing through my hair. “We spoil the sinner, angel.”
He snapped his fingers, and several imps descended from the rafters, bearing a saddle and harness of black leather tooled to look like layers of feathers.
