9. Lucifer
Chapter 9
Lucifer
P ain seared across his jaw, copper coating his tongue at the impact. Lucifer spat onto the mat, enjoying the afterburn as he faced his opponent with a cocky smile. What better way to spend his evening than to humble someone with his fists? Or someone beat the shit out of him, depending on his mood.
Tonight though, he planned to pummel the wolf shifter who entered the cage to fight him. And just like every Saturday night, the Vault was packed full of people cheering and betting. The energy of the room was electric, the atmosphere that delicious tension that only comes with gratuitous violence. Lucifer’s knuckles ached, possibly broken from how hard he’d landed a few hits of his own, but he was sure his opponent hurt more.
“Is that all you’ve got?” he goaded, ducking the next sloppy shot. In reality, not a single punch would have landed if he was actively trying, but Lucy wanted to feel. Wanted the dull pain, followed by the rush of adrenaline.
Not many people could beat him in a raw fight, only Kace, who was a fucking psycho when it came to the cage. Maybe even Jax when he was in a mood, and that was only because he never fell for Lucy’s teasing.
“Your mum hits harder,” he added, licking the blood from his lips with a wink. “I’d know, I fucked her the other night. Squirted like a fountain, by the way.”
The wolf growled, baring his partially shifted teeth and making a move that Lucifer could easily break his arm if he’d wanted. He didn’t, because he wasn’t actually fighting to the death. Instead he moved at the last second, letting the wolf crash against the wax coated links of the cage, much to the cheers of the crowd.
Wolves were so easy to break. Their hierarchical upbringings and love for their mothers usually a winner. And in those rare occasions when calling out their mother’s didn’t work, saying he’d fucked their father’s did.
Bouncing on light feet, Lucifer clicked his neck. Sweat dripped down his bare skin, his hands bruised and already throbbing. It had been close to ten minutes, but even after two rounds he couldn’t release some of his excess energy. He was just too wound up.
“Stop playing,” Kace growled from the sideline. “You could have taken him in the first second.”
Lucifer didn’t spare his brother a glance, wanting to concentrate on the wolf who was seconds away from shifting. There were no rules within the cages. No weight limit or restrictions, and you could fight anyone you wanted for the right money. But he didn’t do it for the money, he did it for the pain. The idea of fighting hand to fang with an actual wolf had a certain appeal that made Lucy’s darker urges want to come out more and play. But Kace as right, the wolf was getting tired and making amateur mistakes that would get him killed if he fought anyone else.
“Tap out,” he said, making his next hit land on the wolf’s jaw.
Those fangs he was so excited for sliced into his skin, the warmth of his own blood comforting as the wolf’s head snapped viciously to the side before turning back with a sneer, eyes enraged.
Stubborn prick, he thought, allowing his next hit to land even harder.
“Last warning,” he said. “Tap out.”
Something brushed against his awareness, and Lucifer didn’t have to turn around to know she’d decided to join the arena. He’d felt her the moment he’d stepped into the place.
He was proud that he’d been able to repress his urges in hunting her down. He hadn’t been able to sleep properly since he’d marked her soul, the magic one of the oldest types in existence, and something he’d done thousands of times. A soul would be marked, and he’d either give it back once the bargain had been fulfilled, or he’d consumed it.
He could hold hundreds of souls at once, and never give them a second thought. And yet hers burned, a presence beneath his ribs that he couldn’t seem to ignore.
Dodging a particularly lazy jab, he turned and found her immediately at the back, her pale wings kept tight to her spine in such a busy crowd. Their eyes met like magnets, hers showing nothing but cold indifference, while he knew his glowed with amusement.
She thought she held the power, and yet he’d made her come to him .
The wolf landed a hit, the knock hard enough it forced the air from his lungs in one particularly painful exhale.
“Fuck you,” the wolf spat, and Lucifer felt the corruption that had blackened his soul long ago surge to the surface. It tunnelled his vision, and pulled his skin tight across his bones. It was a reaction he usually locked away because it called for him to kill, a survival instinct that was almost impossible to repress when caught in the maelstrom.
A nature rather than nurture situation. Although, with the shit he’d suffered, it was likely a mixture of both.
But then he remembered where he was, the roar of the crowd breaking through his haze.
Needing to get himself out of the situation before he lost it entirely, Lucifer plastered on a fake grin, and knocked the wolf out cold with a single hit. Before the fucker had even touched the ground Lucy had climbed out of the cage, bypassing Kace who was calling his name.
He needed to get out of there, to feel the wind against his skin and look up at the moon illuminating the sky. The city was too light polluted to see the stars clearly, but the moon was usually enough when the dark tendrils of his magic called for more than just violence.
The back door slammed against the brick with how hard he threw it open, his heart racing and his teeth grinding. Many people craved the power in which black magic could provide, not caring about the consequences. But they don’t realise how volatile it could be, how all consuming. Magic required balance, and black was no different. Infertility, and the need to murder almost everyone was an interesting choice by whoever decided what the sacrifices were for such power. He guessed the whole horns, bat wings and possible mental deterioration counted too.
With a curse that was carried away with the wind, he searched for the blunt he’d stored in his jeans, finding it slightly crumpled. Not caring, he shoved it between his lips and used arcane to light the end. The first puff calmed his pulse. The second allowed him to cage his more natural impulses until he wasn’t a risk of massacring the entire room behind him.
Probably.
Hopefully.
Luckily a text came through, distracting him.
World’s worst apprentice:
Found one.
And?
World’s worst apprentice:
Dead.
Lucifer cursed, his phone creaking with how hard he held it.
Stop fucking killing them.
World’s worst apprentice:
It’s rude to assume I did it.
I did, but that’s not the point.
You’re supposed to convince them to join us, which clearly you’re doing a shit job of
World’s worst apprentice:
He resisted. What else did you want me to do?
This is only going to work if we get enough power. Stop fucking killing them!
World’s worst apprentice:
“You were amazing,” a voice purred, the high-pitched sound enough for him to cringe.
Lucifer looked to the right, finding Candace strolling over in a top that barely held her small tits in place. He’d fucked her a few times at the bar, sharing her with Jax back when his brother was unmated and actually interesting.
Leaning against the alley wall, knee bent, Lucy took a drag from the blunt, keeping the smoke in his lungs for as long as possible. Candace took his silence as permission to approach, when in reality he was concentrating on pressing his bare back into the brick, anchoring himself with the rough texture.
“I thought I’d come give you your reward,” she added huskily, eyes sparkling even in the dim light. He always hated it when she spoke, her voice like nails on a chalkboard. She was much more pleasant when she had something shoved in her mouth. A cock or a gag, he wasn’t fussed which.
Lucifer blew out the smoke, watching her through lowered lids. He preferred women who could crush his face with thick thighs, not ones that may break with a little rough handling. Candace was beautiful, just like all women, and some men were, but there was just something missing. Something that made him not want to look twice if she wasn’t so confident. But he knew her mouth skills were that of a pro, which answered the whole no talking issue.
Flicking his blunt away he yanked her towards him, slotting his lips over hers like the savage he was and encircling her throat with one of his bloodied hands. She melted into his kiss, her tongue tasting of cherry and vodka, and yet he felt nothing.
Sex just wasn’t appealing anymore. Boring even, like a chore. He blamed it on all his brothers being madly in love with their mates. It was sickening, honestly. Why settle for one, when you could live the bachelor lifestyle?
Except, even when Candace’s fake nails scratched harsh lines down his abs to sink beneath his jeans, his cock just wasn’t interested. Not even a twitch.
Pa…thet…ic.
He should probably tell her to leave, but an orgasm at the end of a violent high usually made him feel euphoric. He was still worked up, the need to hit something unsatisfied despite the throbbing across his face and knuckles.
Squeezing her throat slightly, he let go. “Get on with it then, love.”
She dropped to her knees, and Lucy forced himself to relax back against the wall, using the rough brick for control. He had to concentrate, feeling the warmth of her expert tongue, and imagining choking her until she spluttered and cried from his length.
Nope, still nothing.
Candace hummed, trying to get some life into his unresponsive cock. She even nibbled on the metal bar through the end, something that usually set him off like fireworks. But alas, nothing but a sense of annoyance that she was disturbing his night.
It was almost embarrassing, to be honest. There she was, a willing, hot and wet hole, and there he was, limp as a dead fish.
Seconds away from wrenching her away, a flutter of wings caught his attention in his peripheral. His personal conundrum stepped out into the dark alley, the holier than thou attitude she carried drawing his attention like a suicidal insect to an open flame.
His cock immediately responded, Candace moaning as if his reaction was for her, and not the pretty little angel who was looking at him with an icy tempest in her cerulean gaze.
Lucy gripped the back of Candace’s head, and thrust all the way down her throat, making her gag around his thick cock while his eyes were on Scarlet. Spit and tears soaked the front of his jeans, but like the slutty sport Candace was, she accepted it with little encouraging moans. It wasn’t like he was trying to kill her, and it was just pure luck she was familiar with his size, because he really wasn’t paying her much notice.
Scarlet met his gaze, seemingly unaffected in his activities except for the slight blush that darkened her sharp cheekbones. She was so fucking stunning, with her pretty blonde hair, almost translucently pale skin and white as fuck wings. It made him want to ruin her with just a touch of his darkness.
And just like that, Lucifer came down Candace’s throat.
Without even looking at the woman on her knees, he dismissed her. Candace scowled, glaring over at Scar before walking back inside. He’d feel bad if he knew she wouldn’t target some other fucker within seconds of returning to the rowdy crowd.
“Polite of you to wait,” he said, tucking himself away. He enjoyed the colour on Scar’s cheekbones as she fought to look anywhere but his cock. Shame, because he really was an impressive specimen of a man. Piercing included.
“Last time didn’t exactly go well for me, did it?” she replied with a slight arrogant tone, and Lucifer chuckled at her audacity. Seriously, she had the attitude of a man six foot plus. It was hot as fuck.
“So what? You just wanted to come watch me get half-naked and punch someone?” he asked, pressing a palm to his chest. His knuckles had already begun to heal, the blood crusted on his skin. “Should I be honoured that you find your new pet so interesting?”
Her lips pursed, just as plump and pillowy as he remembered. Complete at odds with her sharp features, and pointed gaze.
“Well, shall we get to it then?” He grinned like a lion would to a gazelle, closing their distance until she was forced to crane her neck back. She was so small, the curves he’d spotted the last time hidden beneath a layer of wrapped fabric. Her breasts pushed obscenely beneath, breathing ragged despite holding her ground at his intimidation.
Cute, but pointless.
Not wanting her to feel like she had any power in their dynamic, he pushed her against the brick, her gasp of surprise a brush of warmth against his chest. Her wings spread automatically, creating a pale halo that only emphasised their difference.
“How did you get my summoning name, love?” He didn’t press her against the wall like he wanted, forcing her body against his. Instead he carefully placed his palms on each side of her head, leaning down into her personal space.
“I didn’t.” She was a defiant little thing, her blue eyes the colour of the deepest part of the ocean, with specs of glistening green that encircled the iris. “And if you touch me again, you won’t like what happens.”
Lucifer clicked his tongue, purposely dragging his eyes down her body with a slow sweep. The fabric strapped across her breasts was tied low below her wings, revealing a slice of flesh before he met black leggings. A bow was hooked over her right shoulder, hidden against the white of her fluffy feathers which he only just noticed because he’d moved closer. There were no arrows that he could see, but the bow fascinated him just as much as the rest of her did.
She remained rigid beneath him, her hands held calmly at her sides and nowhere near the sharp daggers she had strapped to the inside of both her arms. Golden, from the blade to the pommel, and covered in fancy motifs.
“How did you know where I was?” he asked, changing tactics.
A delicate crease appeared between her brows, and the blue in her eyes darkened with distrust. She stood with mutinous silence, so Lucifer pressed closer, pressured by the strange tug of her soul. It was like he could feel her everywhere, an itch beneath his skin that was spreading faster than an STI.
A sharp pain against his throat, forcing him to still.
Scarlet had used his momentary distraction to her advantage, pressing one of her little golden blades against his throat.
Not caring as the knife cut further into his skin, he stepped forward until her softer curves were crushed against his harder lines. “Angel, now you’re just flirting with me.”
“Don’t call me angel,” she growled, her arm unwavering. “I’m a celestrial.”
He should probably react with something other than perverted amusement, but he couldn’t help himself. His cock hardened, aching like a whore despite just coming. He knew the moment she felt it, her eyes widening a fraction.
Oops.
“I won’t allow a Daemon to touch me,” she hissed, making him seem about as appetising as a snake. Which was rude. Did she not realise how much of a sex God he was? The limp situation with Candace notwithstanding.
Warmth dripped down the column of his throat, and only when he purposely forced the blade deeper did she finally pull the knife away. Surely that meant she didn’t really want to kill him? Which was a win in his book.
“Don't worry, love,” he whispered, dropping his lips to the shell of her ear. “Next time, you’ll beg.”