Chapter Twenty-Two Lucifer
Chapter Twenty-Two
Lucifer
My future wife recognizes her fatal mistake the moment Azrael and I move toward her. If she ever dared consider my punishments too severe, she will rue the day she ever invited Death into the sanctity of our dynamic.
I will make them both beg for me.
As soon as we’re finished with her, at any rate.
Azrael stalks forward, clutching Charlotte by the delicate curve of her throat and yanking her up by my old training collar.
She stands there before us, trembling.
“Undress her,” I order.
Our Reaper makes quick work of it, though by my command or because he already intended to do so, I’m not certain. He guides Charlotte to lift her arms, with no more than a gruff grunt before he easily strips her wet dress from her.
I’ve never seen him this possessive before.
This dangerously intent.
And I’m not certain I like it.
My wife’s knees are still raw and red from where they unexpectedly scraped against the rooftop earlier, from when she oh so spectacularly held back my Father’s rage.
I could’ve murdered my lazy excuse for a brother in cold blood for ever daring to subject her to that, but already she’s healing.
Thanks to the immortality that I gifted her.
I will make Michael suffer like the insignificant leech he is for daring to weaken me so much that she felt bold enough to request this.
But how could I have denied her?
I couldn’t have been prouder of her, watching her openly defy my Father like that.
It was practically foreplay for me.
When Azrael’s finished, she stands in nothing more than her undergarments, the white lacy material I bought for her soaked through so that her pebbled nipples are now a dusky, seductive pink.
Azrael strips off his own shirt without me having to request it, leaving him bare from the waist up, all his corded muscles and black tattoos on display.
I still remember when he first returned to Hell like that, after he’d adorned himself with one of those early primitive art pieces like some of the humans he’d seen.
My response had been, well, properly enthusiastic.
He and Charlotte look positively sinful together.
Like Adam and Eve.
But it’s my bone she’s made of, thankfully.
“Sir?” Charlotte says, as if instead of appreciating the sight of them, I have somehow forgotten what I’m supposed to be doing.
“Don’t look at him. Look at me,” Azrael growls, gripping her face. “He’s not going to help you.”
Her gaze darts toward him, and then back again, bouncing between the two of us like she can’t decide who intimidates her more.
My cock hardens.
“How many times have I told you not to speak before spoken to, cumslut?” I snarl, stepping forward as I come to Azrael’s aid.
This is how it’s going to be, apparently.
Death and I are a torturous team again. For tonight only.
Even if she is and always will be mine.
“I’m sorry, sir,” she whispers, lowering her gaze as I take hold of her collar and Azrael passes her to me. I make quick work of stripping what remains of her clothing, relishing in the way it feels to have her submit to me.
I craved this. Crave her.
The gift that her submission is to me.
Despite the level of cruelty in my tone, eventually I catch her peeking up and over at Azrael again through the thick layer of her dark lashes.
A furious growl tears through me.
The way she’s openly defying me, watching him when she thinks I’m no longer looking, is all too familiar to me.
It’s the same way she looks at me when she . . .
My spine runs cold.
She loves him.
Without a doubt.
My nostrils flare, the muscles inside my throat constricting as the sudden realization makes it difficult to breathe. The tension that erupts inside my jaw from where I’ve clenched my teeth so bloody hard I’ve practically ground them to dust is a new level of mortal pain for me.
I see red.
She was never supposed to feel anything for him.
That blasted priest’s prophetic warning comes barreling back to me.
Don’t make her choose, Sammael.
I pause.
Prophetic.
My eyes widen momentarily.
I tuck that thought away for another time, another place, as an unpleasant tingling sensation skitters through me. Don’t make her choose, eh?
Well, bugger that.
Bugger that all the way down to my goddamn realm and back.
I’ve been handling them both with kid gloves.
But that stops here.
I clutch Charlotte by the throat, my grip tightening, and my gaze darts between them. They want to tempt the wrath of the devil?
Well, they’d best brace themselves for the horns.
I’m ready to play.
I cast Charlotte onto the floor as I turn toward Azrael. “Put her on the spanking bench,” I snarl. “Now.”
“No. No, please, Daddy, I—” Charlotte starts to plead, but I ignore her.
After that little stunt with my Father’s blade, she should consider herself lucky that I didn’t destroy her deathly paramour permanently.
Let alone now that she expects me to allow him to fuck her inside my playroom.
I can put an end to this little charade just as well as I can begin it.
“Did I stutter?” I growl when I realize neither Charlotte nor Azrael has moved.
But then Azrael steps forward again, gripping her by my collar and leading her like a kicked dog on a leash toward the bench.
To my shock, she obeys readily. Trailing along behind him like she’s almost regretful. Not so much as a hint of fight in her. One of my brows lifts.
Who is this docile minx?
Certainly not the brat I’ve been taming.
Her willingness to submit to him only fuels my resolve as Azrael shoves her face first onto the bench, spreading her legs and chaining her in place. Charlotte’s breathing becomes audible in a heady mix of desire and fear, but there’s not a hint of protest in her eyes.
And I don’t like it.
Not one bloody bit.
For Death she’s an obedient little bitch, apparently. Though not for long.
Not if I have anything to say about it.
Locking her in place, Azrael’s gaze never leaves her, like she’s the most exquisite thing he’s ever seen.
That makes two of us.
But it’s not her punishment I’m plotting currently.
It’s his, the impetuous bastard.
Immortal or not, if he ever dares leave her side again against my orders, I will make him beg at my feet like the glorified guard dog he is as I force him to watch her come apart for me.
To remind him exactly of his place.
Her punishment is just bonus for me.
Once Azrael’s finished positioning her, my future wife lies flat upon the slight curve of her stomach, her wrists and ankles shackled upon the lower padded sections of the bench so that she’s on all fours.
She’s been looking a bit peaky in the mornings as of late, but as my brother tactfully reminded me in front of the entire world, there’s no possibility that it could mean anything.
One more thing I gave up when I gifted her my Father’s redemption.
The Righteous will go to Heaven, and I’ll sooner sprout wings and fly than my Father would ever allow me to regain my ability to create.
It’s one of the many things He took when He stripped my wings from me.
Along with my dignity.
My jaw tightens. Charlotte’s simply been feeling ill with the stress of my Father’s impending apocalypse, that’s all. I cannot allow myself to entertain that it could be anything more than that. Immortality’s effects have merely not taken well to her.
But now she’s as lush and ripe as ever.
A fresh apple for the taking.
I prowl across the room and position myself behind her, my hand caressing the smooth curves of her bare ass cheeks. “This is for your own good,” I growl. “To remind you who exactly who you belong to.” I pull back my hand as I snarl, “Me.”
My hand comes down even harder than usual, and Charlotte screams.
The first blow is always the most shocking, but I don’t give her a moment’s reprieve.
Her cries fill the playroom as I spank her within an inch of her life for ever daring to get cheeky with me, until her ass is nearly as red as the head of my throbbing cock.
“Are you going to punish her all day, or are we going to do this?” Death asks, once I’m nearly finished with her, purposefully irritating me.
Like he intends for this to be a level playing field between us.
Fat chance that.
“Eager now, are you? Let’s see how long your impatience lasts.” I round toward Charlotte’s head, Death glowering at me as I say to her, “Show me you’re worth the next step.”
Between the two of them, they’ll be lucky if I don’t keep them locked inside this room for the next several days. Even without my powers, torturing them wouldn’t exactly be a chore. And I will reclaim what is mine again soon enough.
In more ways than one, apparently.
I run my thumb across her lips before I force two of my fingers into her mouth. “Suck, cumslut.”
She obeys readily.
Like the perfectly trained whore I taught her to be.
At her core, she is and always will be mine.
And I’m about to prove it to them both.
Azrael has been a mere distraction.
“Your job is to stay quiet like the nasty little slut you’ve been.” I withdraw my fingers from her mouth, lulling her into complacency, before I shove them back in so far she chokes.
Her eyes water.
But she remains silent.
Playing the good girl for me.
Once I remove my hand, she hangs her head, clearly distressed at how thoroughly she’s disappointed me.
She falls silent, like the obedient submissive she’s pretending to be.
I retrieve a black silk blindfold from my tool bag.
I tie it behind her head, covering her eyes so she can no longer see, before I step back and slip off my shoes.
I won’t allow her to recognize me by the sound of my Armanis.
Not for this.
I beckon Azrael forward with a tip of my chin, dropping my voice low as I begin to instruct him on what to do.
“Two fingers to start. Keep your pace slow. If she moans before I say, you’ll stop and wait until I tell you to resume.
You’ll praise everything she’s doing out loud—no hesitation—or I’ll gag the both of you and make you listen instead.
You don’t get to finish unless she does.
If you move too fast, she loses everything.
If you get it wrong, I make her wait. Understood? ”
He grumbles in the affirmative.
“Good. Follow my instructions.”
“And if I don’t?” Death’s eyes narrow.
I cast him an unamused grin, my gaze raking over him. “Fuck about and find out, why don’t you?” I step away, ignoring his futile battle for dominance with me. We both know who’s in charge here. “The safe word is inferno,” I remind him. “As always.”
Azrael tips up his chin in agreement.
And the hellfire in my eyes blazes as Death obeys me.
“Let’s begin, shall we?”