19. Lilith.
19
Lilith.
“ Lilith : The origin of the name comes from the Akkadian word lilitu , meaning ‘belonging to the night’. In Jewish lore, it’s the feminine form of ‘demon’ or ‘spirit’. In Mesopotamian and Jewish mythology, Lilith was the first wife of Adam, who was ultimately banished from the Garden of Eden for her disobedience. Lilith could be a particular demon who has possessed several hosts in history, or she could just be a wide representation of female demons. She is often said to be a succubus, for the ways she liked to tempt her victims […]”
-Extract from the State Exorcist’s Manual , edition of 2047.
LOS ANGELES, 2052
Robb surges to his feet like a broken doll infused with a sudden, unnatural life. He takes a deep breath through his damaged lungs and laughs. His voice is higher than usual. Something—someone—has definitely taken possession of him.
He’ll hate me for it.
He already did, the small voice in my head says. It’s not Lucifer’s, but my guilty conscience.
The demon goes for my throat, but Azeroth gets here first. He puts himself between me and Robb.
“Oh, and who might you be?” asks the creature wearing my old friend’s face.
Azeroth’s large hand encircles their neck and their feet leave the ground. “I should ask you the same thing.”
The demon laughs, feet dangling and feverish eyes roaming over the hybrid’s face. “Azeroth, my love, is that you in this delicious-looking shell?”
Azeroth’s eyes widen slightly before he frowns. “Lilith. Long time no see.”
Lilith , the mythical demon queen.
Well, fuck. What have I done?
She smiles seductively. It looks terrifying on Robb’s ravaged features.
“This man’s soul is comfortable,” she says. “So much anguish. So much despair. I could slip right in. But his body is a wreck.” She pouts.
It’s working. His heart is still beating. Lilith is keeping Robb alive.
“Beggars can’t be choosers,” Azeroth says.
“You know I don’t beg, love.” She puts a dirty hand over his cheek.
While Azeroth is keeping her busy, I make my way to the table outside of the ritual circle. We knocked a few things out during our fight with the demonic traders, but some vials of sedatives have survived. The tattoo artist hiding in the corner watches me as I fill two syringes with enough sedative to put down a bear. I hope I’m not overdoing it and might kill Robb by accident. But I can’t risk having class-one demon on the loose in Los Angeles.
“Have you found him?” Lilith asks. “I would love to have a chat with him.”
“I haven’t,” answers Azeroth. He dropped her back to her feet, but he’s keeping a firm hold of her.
She sighs. “He’s been gone for too long, when I get my hands on—” she trails off when she finally notices me coming closer.
She tries to break my neck as I inject her with the sedative. Azeroth doesn’t let go. In seconds, she’s unconscious.
“Sorry, love ,” he says. “We have a need for you.” He hoists Robb’s lifeless body over his shoulder.
“She’s… charming,” I say.
“She’s a nightmare. She’s been the Light Bearer’s lover for centuries and a major nuisance. But she’s a free spirit and obeys no one. Abaddon has been trying to get her to join his side for centuries, to no avail. It might benefit us.”
It’s strange to imagine Lucifer having lovers. I often forget he was a creature of flesh and bones.
I put a hand over my gut. The wound is hurting like a bitch and I’m still bleeding.
“Let’s go, before the cavalry arrives. You,” I say to the tattoo artist cowering under the table. “Come with us. We’ll need your services. Once it’s done, I’ll pay you enough to start a new life elsewhere.”
She gathers her tools hurriedly and follows us out of the wastewater facility.
The fresh air outside is a welcome reprieve from the stench.
“Do you need me to carry you too, ashy one?” Azeroth says, eyeing me. “You seem in pain.”
I shake my head. “I’m fine.”
I’ve survived much worse, but wounds to the lower organs always take forever to heal.
As we reach the car, Leo comes running. “Are you hurt?”
I’m covered in blood.
“It’s not mine,” I lie.
He opens the back of the van and Azeroth places Robb on the white pile of sheets. They’ll be ruined; I’ll have to pay for them.
“Who’s that?” Leo asks.
“Robb Warden.”
“The Carver?”
“Yes.”
“Holy shit.”
“You can sit at the front with Leo,” I say to the tattoo artist. She’s shaking like a leaf, and I doubt she’ll enjoy the ride next to a hybrid and an unconscious demon queen.
Before I have time to step inside the van, Azeroth has grabbed me under the armpits and dropped me gently over another pile of clean sheets.
“I can feel pain oozing from you, ashy one,” he says before I can argue.
Leo drives us to the apartment in record time and drops us in the street behind Tina’s Diner. We take a back door not to draw attention to the fact that we’re bringing inside what looks like a dead body. Azeroth drops Robb over the kitchen table. We all stink, but my old friend is worse. They left him in his own grime for weeks.
“What can I do?” Leo asks. His eyes are as round as saucers as he watches Robb’s unmoving form.
I remember suddenly that he admires famous State Exorcists. Never meet your heroes, as they say.
“Help me cut his clothes off and wash him. She needs to tattoo him.” I gesture to the tattoo artist who has followed us reluctantly inside the apartment.
Leo recoils. “He’s possessed?”
“Yes.”
“Shouldn’t we exorcise him?”
“Not if we want him to survive.”
Robb’s condition is jarring as we unveil his naked body. His ribs are sharp and his stomach curved in from malnourishment. His chest is a painting of purple and yellow bruises where Azeroth hit him. The change of color is a good sign; he’s already healing. Lilith is a powerful demon.
“What—what happened to him?” Leo asks, filling a bucket with warm water and soap.
“Addiction and abuse.”
He’s incredibly gentle as he washes Robb’s dirty skin. I realize with surprise that he’s crying.
“He’ll get better,” I say. “And once he’s whole again, we’ll kick the demon out of him.”
He might take weeks to fully heal—and he’ll be left with tattoos for life—but he’ll live, and that’s all that matters.
Leo nods.
The artist pulls out sheets of papers and applies them over Robb’s wet skin. “Stencils,” she explains with a shaky voice. “I can ink over them, and if he wakes up before I’m done, the spells will contain the demon as long as they stay on.”
“Smart,” I say. Then wince as pain lances through my entire upper body.
“Ashy one,” says Azeroth from his position near the door. It’s a warning.
“Leo, can you stay and assist her?”
He sniffles. “Yes. Of course.”
I follow Azeroth out of the kitchen. We didn’t take time to turn on the living room’s light when we got back and he’s bathed in the pink glow coming from Tina’s neons outside.
“Let’s take care of your wound now,” he says.
“I’m fine.”
“Show me. I’m annoyed by the pain radiating from you.”
I grab the medkit and a towel in the bathroom before walking to my room. I’ll need to lie down.
“It’s okay,” I say. “I’ll manage.”
But before I have time to argue, Azeroth has followed me inside and closed the door behind him. I try not to look at him as I set the towel on the bed.
“Get out,” I say. But even to my ears, it sounds weak.
He comes closer. “Show me.”
I drop my ruined jacket on the floor, then peel off my blood-soaked shirt. All the while, he watches me. I wonder what he sees. A pale wraith? A creature belonging to neither world? My hand stays on my wound. It has already begun to heal, but it burns like the fires of Hell.
“You’re beautiful,” Azeroth says, taking me by surprise. “Lay on the bed. I’ll take care of you.”
I’m speechless. There’s the shadow of a smile on his lips. He knows what his words do to me. Twenty-years have passed, and yet I’m still the same kid craving attention, seeking sunshine like the first flower in spring. A flush creeps over my face. I don’t know if he’s using his power or if it’s entirely me, so I keep my mouth shut.
I lie down, far too aware of my naked upper body. Azeroth sits on a chair near my bed and opens the medkit.
“Do you know what you’re doing?” I ask.
He levels an amused look at me. “I’ve fought in many battles in the last decades and cared for many wounds. I know what I’m doing. And I’ve come to your world often enough that I know how to use all of your tools.” He pulls out a local anesthetic.
I nod, giving him consent, and he shoots the painkiller in four different places around my wound. I wince as the small needle pierces my burning skin. In the matter of seconds, the pain fades.
“Are you okay?” he asks. His golden eyes are on me. They rarely leave me.
“Why are you so nice? Aren’t demons all supposed to be ruthless creatures?”
“We are. But I’m also an incubus. We’re the only species with the abilities to read and feel emotions. We’re abnormalities, even in Hell. And dying out.”
“Why?” I ask.
He smiles. “Too much love-making, not enough fighting.”
The way he said love-making sent a shiver through my entire body. Goosebumps rise on my skin. He could have said fucking , and yet it’s not the word he used.
“Don’t move,” he says, pulling out a wound stapler.
I lie back and hold my breath as he staples my half-healed laceration. It’ll make sure it doesn’t reopen and give time for the deeper damage to heal. In a week, I’ll be as good as new, without a scar to attest to my mistake.
Azeroth cleans my skin with a gauze pad and alcohol, washing the blood. His large hands are surprisingly deft and gentle. Heat gathers in my lower belly and my eyes roam over his wide chest, his arms, and tattoos. Demons shouldn’t be so beautiful, even the ones born to seduce. It’s unfair for all of us. Humanity would have already lost if incubi were the ones to invade en masse.
When I look up, he’s smirking. He knows very well what I’m thinking about. What I’m feeling . It pisses me off.
“Why are you here?” I ask.
“I thought it was pretty obvious. Making sure you don’t bleed out to death.”
“Why are you here with us?” I correct. “You could have left a hundred times, tattoos or not. You had a dozen opportunities and already could be far away, starting a new life somewhere in our world.”
His eyes smolder as he says, “What I seek is right here.”
“Enlighten me,” I dare him.
“I want to talk to him.”
“Who?”
I don’t know why, but I’m playing dumb. I could see it in his eyes; he knew from the beginning.
“Your demon.”
I shake my head slowly. “He’s gone.”
A wave of dark energy washes over us and I gasp.
Azeroth leans over me. “Liar. I can smell him on you. He’s in your blood.”
He knows I was Lucifer’s host. That’s why he was ever so docile around me. He thinks he’s found him, at last.
“He’s gone,” I repeat, voice shaking.
My body is coming alive under the assault of his power. I’m flushed with desire, wanting, craving . All I can focus on is his body on top of mine and the heat radiating from him.
I need… I need…
I grab his arm, digging my nails into the muscle, and pull him to me.
“He’s gone…” I whisper against his lips. “He left me…”
It’s close to the truth. Lucifer is part of me now, but it still feels like abandonment. I no longer hear his deep voice in my head guiding me through life. He’s no longer an entity separate from me, one that I can hate and love. I’m alone now. Truly alone except for the remnants of his soul nestled inside me, unreachable.
“He left me…” I sob. “Just as he left you.”
Azeroth’s face mirrors my anguish. His brow is furrowed and his golden eyes betray his pain. Understanding dawns on me. The Light Bearer is more to him than an adoptive father or a mentor. He was the center of his life, just as he was for me. The sweet bane of our existences.
“You loved him…” I say.
He growls. “For all the good it ever did.”
He looks angry now. It’s a feeling I understand so well when it comes to Lucifer. The Devil is too easy to love, but oh so hard to forget.
I close the distance and capture his mouth. Azeroth takes a second to reciprocate, but when he does, his warm tongue touches my lips and I groan. His arms pull me closer. I’m not trying to resist him any longer and let myself feel the full scope of his power. With our skins touching, nothing can stop it from burrowing deep in me. It’s maddening. I want to be devoured alive. Ravaged. Sullied.
My wound is no longer hurting, thanks to the anesthetic, and I arch my back, looking for friction.
“Please…” I say when we break the kiss.
The word should have tasted sour—shameful—but I’m beyond pretense and all I want is to feel his hands on me.
Azeroth growls. “You’re wounded.”
“I’m—I’m fine…” I’m clawing at his clothes desperately.
But I’m not fine. I’m walking on the edge of my sanity. On one side, an endless sea of sorrow. All of my bottled up emotions, loneliness, envy, despair, longing… threatening to drown me in tears. On the other, bliss, heat, and rapture. I just need an extra shove, and I’ll fall.
Azeroth must understand it. He can taste what I feel.
“Feed on me,” I say. Consent and a dare.
His restraint snaps like a too-taut string and he reaches for my erection. I gasp at the sudden friction. His eyes glow from within, unnatural, beautiful, and I’m reminded that no matter how nice he’s toward me, he’s still a creature from another world. And I just gave him permission to take what he needs from me.
Azeroth rubs my cock through the fabric, and I arch my back. “That’s it, ashy one.” He takes a deep breath and licks his bottom lip. He’s feeding on my energy.
I pull him closer and we kiss again.
He reaches for my belt and I whimper. Finally! My need has grown teeth. It wants to bite and tear into him.
My eyes roll back when my erection is finally free. Wonderfully, he lowers his face to my groin, and his pointy tongue licks the drops of pre-cum at the tip. The sight of it almost makes me come. He growls and his pupils extend for an instant, as if the taste of me hits him like a drug. Or maybe it’s my energy. I’m a well of frustrations and desires overflowing during a storm.
Azeroth’s hand reaches for my chest and he holds me down before swallowing my cock entirely. I would scream if there was any air left in my lungs to produce a sound. It’s all too good, too fast. I get a hold of one of his horns as my orgasm crests like a wave before crashing down and sweeping me away.
He swallows it all. When I have gathered enough brain cells to look at him, his eyes are unfocused—drunk.
My chest expands at a quick pace under his hand, trying to bring oxygen back to my blood. I let fingers travel down his horn and over his silky hair. He looks up, and a ravenous look crosses his features.
“We’re not done,” he says, climbing over me on the bed. “You’ve given me a taste, and I’m far from being satiated, ashy one.”
I’m hanging on to his every action, his every word. I just orgasmed, but I know from the weight of his dark energy draped over us, I’ll be ready to go again in a minute.
“Don’t move,” he says, reaching for his zipper.
My eyes widen as he pulls his cock out. On the day when I freed him from the brothel, I made a point of not looking. Some part of me knew even then that the temptation would have been too great. It didn’t stop it from haunting my imagination every morning in my bed before falling asleep.
And yet, even my wildest fantasies came short of reality. His cock is huge, as I expected, but the shape differs slightly from a human’s—it has mutated to get as close as possible to his demonic nature. It’s bulbous at the base, and again near the middle before finishing on a slender head. I have a feeling the base swells during his orgasms. The color goes from a darker gray near his tight ball sack, to deep red on the tip. There are black ridges on the underside.
I stare hungrily. I’m not a virgin, but my experiences have been far apart and unsatisfactory. My first time was with a man I’d met at a bar after Lucifer left me. When I’d realized I was the master of my fate for the first time since I’d turned seven, I’d gotten wasted. He’d hit on me, telling me I was the most peculiar and beautiful being he’d ever seen. I was so desperate to stave off my newfound loneliness, that I followed him to a motel. He’d let me fuck him first, clumsily, then he took his time with me. I remember only half of it. Afterward, I cried on his shoulder for an awkward hour. When I came back to my senses some time later, I snuck out of the room like a thief.
I just sobbed in front of Azeroth, so I can sense a trend. But I’m not about to escape. I want— I need —for this, whatever this is, to go all the way. Even though his impressive cock gives me pause.
“Not today, Jon,” he says, as if reading my mind.
His deep voice uttering my name sends shivers down my spine, and I’m fully aware of the importance demons place on names.
Azeroth kneels between my legs and aligns his cock with mine. There’s a fat drop of pre-cum on the head; he wants this as much as I do. I lick my lips, eager to get a taste of him in the haze of lust that has overtaken me.
Sensing my urgency, he encircles both our cocks together with his large hand. His first hip thrust sends me over the moon. My eyes roll back and I bite my tongue not to scream and alert Leo. He would come to my rescue, like a well-meaning fool, and interrupt something I definitely don’t have the willpower to stop. The State Exorcists could come crashing down on us, I would keep going until both of us came.
“Don’t move,” Azeroth says again, eyes smoldering. “I’ll take care of you. Just focus on the pleasure, and feed me with your ecstasy.”
I’m not sure why, but knowing he’s taking from me—feeding from my rapture—is turning me on even more. We’re both gaining something important from this exchange. Him, sustenance. Me, a way to forestall my misery.
And if I’m not mistaken, he needed a little help with his misery, too.
My fingers find their way to his tank top, and I hold on for dear life as he fucks his hand and my cock. The dark ridges of his underside give me an extra sensation when they rub on my glans. His wings fall over us, hiding the world.
My eyes catch on the silver chain that hangs from his neck before disappearing behind his back. It glints in the light malevolently, imbued with human magic. It’s suddenly all I can see. An enemy to be vanquished. I grab Azeroth, pulling him to me, and with force I break the chain, freeing his wings. If I was still possessed, I wouldn’t have been able to. But I’m something else now. Something the spell can’t comprehend. A creature of Earth who has stolen a sliver of Hell.
The broken chain falls on the bed beside us. Azeroth’s eyes widen, and he loses his rhythm for a second. Then, hesitantly, his wings spread wider than I’ve ever seen them. They span over the entire bedroom. I wonder briefly how they must have looked in Hell, on his original body. Imagining them pinned to a wall near Lucifer’s feathered ones makes me want to march through the gate.
Azeroth watches me, expression unreadable, then he says, “You’re lucky you’re wounded, ashy one.” He smiles and tightens his grip around our cocks. “I would have fucked you into oblivion.”
I gasp.
I wouldn’t call that lucky.
He speeds up again, fucking his hand relentlessly and without mercy. The friction and heat are enough to send me over the edge. I reach my orgasm in his hand, reducing my thoughts and worries to ashes. He growls and keeps going, using my semen as lube. The wet noise alone will fuel my fantasies forever.
I must have closed my eyes for a heartbeat, the orgasm taking over, because I missed the cue of him coming. Warm cum drips on my lower belly and he’s leaning on me, our foreheads almost touching. His dark hair tickles my cheeks.
I was right. The bulbous parts of his cock are swelling in his hand.
“Thank you,” he purrs, licking his lips.
His power is slowly receding, leaving me bereft and reeling.
Distantly, I feel him push away from me and clean the mess with another gauze.
I want to ask him to stay, but I’m too afraid he’ll laugh at me now that he’s fed. The lonesome human who always gets too attached to demons.
Sleep finds me before shame.