Thorns of deceit the bea.., p.15
An Unexpected Ascension, page 15
However, I did yearn to block these crows out. Howling and screaming non-stop. Another turn ahead has her disappearing behind a thicket of trees.
“Maybe I was a little har—”
Stunned.
A wicked blow of a small fist cuts across my cheekbone, my face jerking to the side with the impact. Pain throbs throughout my face, little pulses echoing around my skull.
Briar’s arm cranks back for another hit, greedy after her luck with the first one. Instantly, her wrist is in my grip and I’m twisting her arm behind her back while kicking her legs from under her feet. She falls face first into the mucky ground, groaning.
“Try it again and I promise you, the pain you felt earlier will be but a fraction of what I will show you,” I snarl in her ear. “Get up.”
I push off her body as I bring myself to stand. As she rights herself, I grab the front of her shirt and back her into the trunk of a nearby tree. The branches dance with the impact, and Briar’s hands enclose around the wrist that’s still twisted in the fabric of her sopping wet shirt.
Gripping her face with my other hand, I slam the back of her head into the bark behind her. Those jade eyes widen with fear as I inch my face closer to hers, breathing in the fading scent of Heaven.
“Now, you’re going to be a good girl and do as I say, or I can leave you here with the crows and the hounds. Nod if you understand.”
She narrows her eyes and tries to escape my hold, but I only pinch her cheeks harder. Her face contorts in pain and finally, she relents.
“Good.” I release her jaw and shirt, taking a step back. “Let’s go before I decide to do something we’ll both regret.”
“Asshole.”
“Mmm, yes, my favorite part of a woman’s body. I can show you if you’d like.” I toss the retort over my shoulder.
“Ugh!”
Chapter 21
The Demon
Like a pouting child, Briar follows after me through the forest. Not another word from her other than incoherent grumbles until we arrive at the gate of Hell.
The moment we are through and outside the boundaries of the Portae Inferi, I snatch her by the arm and drag her through the pocket of the universe until we’re standing before the Devil himself.
Still enraged and frustratingly annoyed, I toss the Fentonelli girl at his feet. He doesn’t even flinch as she lands before him. Lucifer’s fingers tap along the arm rest made of twisted bones, waiting for an explanation.
“Look at this, my God. I found a little pet for the manor. What a pretty little whore she’ll make for your bed.”
His gaze narrows in on me, assessing me and just how deranged I’ve become over this girl.
“Lynx.” His nostrils flare in warning.
Briar raises her head to drink in the Devil before her and all his devastating beauty. Storming forward, I wrap her hair in my fist and pull her head back against me.
“If not, then she might as well find her way to the dungeon, but what a waste of a pretty face, yeah?”
Lucifer stands, vexation rippling off his being and swirling around him in powerful waves.
“What the fuck are you on about?!”
The low vibrations of his voice wash over every inch of the room.
“Remind me, Devil. What fates typically lie in wait for a Fentonelli? Because the options I’ve so generously offered seem to be better than all the others to grace my presence.”
In a matter of seconds, my body is engulfed in flames before we’re appearing in the war room alone, without audience.
“Have you forgotten who I am?” He seethes, pacing back and forth while I sink into a chair. “To speak so offensively to me! The one who gave you a chance at redemption, at vengeance, and now justice? You demean me!”
Running a hand through my hair, I heave a heavy sigh. “I-I’m so sorry. I’ve clearly lost it.”
There’s a wild look inside the Devil’s eyes as he rakes them over me in obvious disgust.
“Maybe you were right, Lynx. Maybe I have lost all ability to bestow retribution. Perhaps I shall start with you.”
A snap of his fingers and my world grows dark. Blind, my other senses sharpen. A dank must sits stale and heavy in the air. The cement ground wet with substance unbeknownst to me. In the distance, chains clanking against the floor rattle through these dungeons, and I know exactly where I am.
Chapter 22
The Angel
Stunned by the chaos of the last few minutes, I stay kneeling before this throne made entirely of human bones. It isn’t until the God of Hell returns, without the demon, that he urges me back to my feet.
“Please excuse my Second in Command. He’s been lost inside himself for quite some time now.” He reaches out a masculine hand. “Lucifer or the Devil as you might know me.”
I nod, swallowing nervously. “Briar Fenton.”
His eyes as dark as freshly brewed coffee, soften at my name.
“Ms. Fenton.” He finally smiles, taking my palm into his.
“So, you know me too?”
“Your surname is quite a topic around here. I can’t say I’m entirely surprised by your presence. Though I did have more faith in him to have left you alone.”
“Really?” I snort.
“He’s not the type to let his emotions lead rather than his head. It’s rare to find him so worked up by something as simple as a girl.” He snickers. “Come, let’s get you cleaned up and into something less... wet.”
Speechless, I follow Lucifer down a dimly lit hallway, black gothic sconces glowing softly. The entire manor is covered in shades of black, it seems to be a recurring theme down here.
He leads me in front of a doorway, gesturing me through the threshold.
“The space is yours. Despite what that brood said, you will not serve as a whore or a pet, but perhaps you might like to stay a while. My Second could use a little torment of his own and I think I know just the thing.”
He smirks and as much as I like the sound of that, I hate the idea of being near that demon.
“Rest assured, he’s fixing his head down in our dungeons. Visiting a dear old friend of ours. Meanwhile, help yourself to the belongings in here and I’ll have a feast waiting in our Great Hall. Someone will fetch you shortly.”
The wooden door closes with his absence, leaving me in this—
A four-poster bed with a duvet in the darkest shade of violet sits against the wall to the left. I descend the two steps into the room and run my hand over the silky fabric. A plethora of different pillows decorate the headboard, some lacy and black, others the same silky violet. It’s magnificent. Grand. Romantic.
There is a feminine touch to this chamber, one I doubt would befit the God of Hell, but perhaps a lover of his? Though, everything in here looks untouched as if it’s never been used.
I run my hand over the dresser, carved intricately with beautiful detail. The wood a glossier black than the matte walls. Opening the drawer, I find undergarments made of all lace and little coverage. Pulling a brassiere from the pile, holding it up for inspection. There’s nothing to it, but it will have to do.
Gathering whatever I can find in the drawers, I make my way to the ensuite. The tub sits on the balcony beyond two French double doors overlooking the distant city of Hell, cast in a glowing red spotlight. The silhouette of the buildings and towers is breathtaking, something I never thought could be possible here.
Despite the red glow of the late evening, I find myself appreciating the beauty of Hell.
Just as I’m dressed and slipping into a pair of black heels, courtesy of the Devil, a knock sounds at the door. A guard, covered head to toe in thick, leather armor, offers me an elbow and silently I take it.
The violet of the dress is brutal, so deep it can only belong here in Hell. It spills down to the floor, caressing the hall as we stride to dinner. The fabric is thin, like layered gauze and wraps around my body, clinging to my curves.
It’s not something I would have ever chosen for myself, but nearly all the pieces hung in the closet are fit for a ruler and not some fallen angel. Yet, I’m grateful for the change of clothes. It’s been months that I wore the same tank top and shorts in Heaven. I stopped caring after a while, but then again, I really stopped caring about everything.
We pause at the doors of the Great Hall, empty save for Lucifer perched at the head of a very long table. Sitting atop is a golden carafe filled to the brim with burgundy wine and a feast with anything imaginable: roasted chicken, seared vegetables, fruits, decedent tarts, chocolates.
“Wow,” is all I can think to say.
Lucifer stands and collects me from the threshold, leading me toward the spread.
“I figured after some time of not eating real food, you might enjoy a little bit of everything. Wine?”
Yes, wine. I would start with wine!
I nod, slipping a golden goblet in my hand while he pours. After grabbing his own glass, he lifts it up and taps it to mine.
“To new friends.”
Friends... The Devil. Is it wise to make friends with the God of Hell? Well, it certainly would not be wise to find myself on the opposite side of the spectrum.
“To new eternities.”
His eyes glow at that, urging me to sip, solidifying our toasts.
“Come, sit, eat, enjoy.” He smiles warmly... almost sincerely.
He pulls the chair out from next to his and allows me to lower into it before pushing it back in with ease. Every movement he makes is graceful, it just adds to his magnetism. He’s similar to the demon in a way that they could be brothers. Lucifer with his dark hair and perfectly cut scruff. The only difference would be their polar personalities and the color of their eyes. The warm milk chocolate gaze I stare into now is... comforting, genuine, and fair.
Lucifer loads my plate with a little bit of everything while I take another sip of the wine. The bitter fermented fruit washes over my tongue and heats my belly. It’s more than anything I can ask for right now.
“What did I do?” I finally bring myself to ask.
Those warm eyes look up from my plate.
“Oh, dear. Where do I even start?”
“That bad, huh?”
“No, it’s just not my story to tell. Frankly, Briar, I don’t think you’ve done a thing that warrants you to be here. I told him to leave it, leave you, but there’s something deeply rooted in my friend that he just couldn’t let it be. I’ve never seen him so conflicted before.”
“Conflicted how?”
“He’s caught between wanting to hate you and not quite feeling it.” He pinches his lips as if he’s already said too much. “Now, may I tell you about my wife?”
My brows quirk in surprise, thinking back to the bedroom and the—
I look down at the dress and see a little nod from the Devil.
“Please!”
“Ada. She was my whole world, my little ball of fire that kept it spinning. Every morning, I would run my hand through her red mane, tendrils so vibrant you could paint with them.” He smiles to himself, taking a gulp of wine. “We met so young. Barely into our adulthood. I was assisting my father at his butcher shop you see, and she was picking up dinner for her mother to cook. She got to that counter where my father stood, but I nearly tackled him to the ground. My old man, he was so furious with me, but the second he saw her and then looked back into my eyes, he knew. He laughed, placed that sturdy, bloody hand on my shoulder and slapped my back.
“Oh Ada. She came back every week after that, buying the smallest bit of meat, but I would sneak her a few ounces extra. I’m sure my father noticed, though he never said so. When we were just past school age, we wed. It was the happiest day of my life, until we had our first son and then our second.
“Beautiful – my family. What I would do to have it all over again. To kiss her, to spread my fingers through her hair and caress her to sleep. To have her with child over and over again and our house full of joy and laughter and chaos!”
Lucifer’s gaze clouds over. There’s a distance in his eyes as if he’s drifted off into another world, a world where his wife still exists. He clears his throat, startling me.
“Briar, please eat. I’m sure you’re starving.” He gestures to my untouched plate.
“Is your wife here?” I ask, picking up the weighty fork.
“No. I’m not sure what all Lynx has told you—”
“Lynx?”
“Hermes, my apologies.” He dismisses the misstep. “There’s a war coming, Briar. Ask me why.”
“I-I know why. I saw it.”
I swallow the bite of chicken in my mouth and meet his gaze. He sets his goblet down on the table, folding his hands together.
“And how might you have seen such a thing?”
“The Tree of Knowledge. It’s why I’m here.”
There’s a patient rage forming within him and that one bite of chicken starts to feel like a really bad mistake.
“What foolery is this?”
“Lord-—”
“I am a God!”
“Yes, of course,” I murmur. “God of Hell, it wasn’t something I sought out on my own. My hand was forced.”
“By?” He seethes. “Oh, never mind! I already know. That fucking imbecile.”
I don’t confirm, don’t need to.
“Please forgive my outburst. My Second has a way of getting to me sometimes, but unlike him, I am very open with how I feel. You will come to see. Anyhow, I have matters to attend to.” He pushes himself to stand, the legs of the chair scraping against the floor noisily. “The point of my story, dear – I love my wife, and she will return to her rightful place by my side. You have nothing to fear with me.”
I nod as he dismisses himself, leaving me there with all the food and wine I couldn’t possibly finish.
Well, the wine I can... and do until the room starts to blur.
My legs are wobbly by the time I finally stand again, belly full of liquor and chocolate. The guard that escorted me here is long gone, so I journey the castle alone with a hand planted along the wall to keep me upright.
I follow the paintings in the hall, remembering how we passed them before. The men, those must be his sons. Both dark haired and handsome like their father. The fiery haired woman, yes, the woman from the vision brought on by the tree, Ada. She’s beyond words. A type of beauty that cannot be described. Her features are pale, her nose slender and lips full, hazel eyes that glitter with an endless depth of love.
Their story strikes a sensitive chord deep in my belly. That kind of love that lasts for lifetimes, eternity and still felt with a blazing passion. The type of love I found on Earth, it was... hard, brutal, and fearful.
Those flashbacks, they weren’t anything to wish for. Somehow, I’m finding Hell to be a lot more welcoming than my life back on Earth.
Spinning on my heels too fast, I stumble forward, ready to face-plant. Before my nose has a chance to meet with the shining tiles, I’m sprung back up to my feet. Globes of navy – darker than the bottom of the ocean – cut me in two.
His hand remains in a tight grip around my arm, his heavy breath tickling my face. As I escape from the hold of his gaze, I find blood splattered and spilling in various places – his cheekbone, the split in his lip, his ear.
“What happened?”
“You happened.” He sneers.
“I didn’t—”
“No, but because of you, I’ve spent the better part of the night fighting depravity in the form of a beast.”
With a roll of my eyes, I dismiss his dramatics and make to shuffle around him. Only, my balance wavers and my hand catches on his shoulder.
“Are you drunk?” There’s an amusement in his voice that wasn’t there before.
“Maybe. Unlike you, the Devil has been very welcoming.”
His gaze shifts to his shoulder where my hand is still firmly planted. The moment I notice, I yank it back, only for his fingers to interlock with my own. My skin burns where he touches me, a sizzling fire racing along the flesh of my palm. He crowds me, the demon taking full advantage of the liquor flooding my senses.
Upon my back, a cold washes over my flushed shoulders as they touch the chilled wall.
“Don’t get the wrong impression. He may be warm towards you now, but don’t expect him to save you, Angel. You’re mine to torment and he won’t intervene if I don’t wish him to.”
“And how do you plan to torment me, hmm? There’s a rumor that you don’t hate me as much as you tell yourself you do,” I taunt.
My lower lip slips between my teeth as I fight a triumphant smile. War rages inside midnight blue irises while teeth reveal themselves as a show of weapons. There’s a tangible lust that sits heavy between us, the wine a little spark to a maddening flame.
With one hand, the demon brings my wrists above my head, trapping them against the wall behind me. His face inches closer, shadowed by the dimly lit sconces spaced along the hallway. With shuddered breaths, my chest brushes against his, my nipples aching with need.
His free hand snakes over my collarbone, creeping up, his palm grazing the column of my neck. Strong fingers settle just under my jaw in a controlling grip, forcing my gaze to his. Forcing me to take him in, all of him.
The fierce angle of his jawline, the perfectly straight slope of his nose, scruff only days old and the flush upon his cheeks. He’s stunning, irritatingly so.
Lazily, I trail over his carefully crafted features, saving his eyes for last. Turmoil swirls in a blue so deep, it’s nearly as black as his hair. A complete contradiction to the way his lips curl in a seductive smirk.
“You think I don’t hate you?” His words wash over my face in a caressing breath.
The grin once held in place now falters, slipping from the way my heart stutters and my lungs trip.
“Not as much as you say you do.”
His mouth lowers, hovering over my own, drinking in every word I give him.
“What makes you think that, Angel?”
A vicious tremor courses through me, and I resent the way it flares an amusement within him. How I shudder at his touch and melt when he calls me Angel. How his heat bleeds into me forcing its way between my thighs. Yet, I don’t have it in me to pull away.
