Chapter Forty-One Lucifer
Chapter Forty-One
Lucifer
Charlotte’s father is ready for her by the time my wife arrives in Hell for her visit. Azrael and I have been torturing him round the clock for the last several days, leaving little room for him to recover between sessions, in order to make him pliable for her.
But I’ll be damned if I allow Death to use it as an excuse to get close to her again.
Not without my being included at least.
I haven’t stopped thinking about that goddamn kiss.
The traitorous bastard.
When Charlotte appears outside Hell’s Depths right on schedule, her face is a bit flushed from her training with Seraph. She pitches forward, placing her hands upon her knees, panting. My gaze roves over her, noting every detail, every change.
“What?” She glances down at her body. “Do I have something on my dress?”
“No, darling.”
She smooths a nervous hand down the front of the Hermès she’s wearing, like she somehow fears I might’ve found something I do not like.
As if I could ever find anything about her unpleasing.
But it’s the sight of my collar at her throat that catches my attention readily.
The permanent one. The pearl and leather Dior I gifted her.
I smirk wickedly. “I’m simply entranced by the sight of you, that’s all. You look radiant.” I pull her into my arms, kissing her to reassure her.
But I can’t help but swat her ass as I usher her past me. The way her hips have become the slightest bit fuller as of late hasn’t escaped my notice.
And I don’t dislike it.
By the time we arrive outside the meat locker’s fridge, I’m so bloody bewitched by the sight and sway of them, by the thought that she has chosen to be mine again, I’d just as soon abandon the entire thing.
Burying my face in her cunt sounds far more pleasing.
Even if I do enjoy eviscerating her father regularly.
Particularly after the stunt his organization pulled.
I will pick them off one by one until there is nothing left.
Until they can no longer hurt her.
I snatch her into my arms, pressing her up against the nearest wall and caging her beneath me. Her breath becomes shallow as I slowly trail one of my knuckles over her collar. Her eyes widen as she realizes I’ve noticed, and she shivers, already more than eager for me.
I can smell it on her.
“Are you certain you wouldn’t like to—”
“Did you mean what you said?” she asks, gazing helplessly into my face. “A few months back, in the playroom, when you said you’d want to have children with me?”
The question catches me off guard.
“Of course, little dove.” My eyes narrow. “Why do you ask?”
She shakes her head. “No reason. I just—”
The distant sound of her father’s screams follows, echoing off the tiling.
Azrael emerges from the chamber a moment later, shirtless and sweating, his large body and face covered in blood spray, and his muscled, tattooed arms flexing. He sharpens the edge of one of the freshly cleaned blades he was just using.
He looks positively sinful like that. Downright delectable.
My cock stiffens.
I scowl, glancing away at the reminder of how my body betrayed me the other evening.
The same way it did back at Gethsemane.
“He’s ready for you.” He turns toward Charlotte.
My wife’s gaze roves over him, the amber starbursts in her eyes gleaming, and she flushes a little at the sight of him as his attention falls to my collar she’s wearing.
Death’s expression turns cold, but the heat when she watches him couldn’t be more obvious to me, and the thought of how thoroughly she still wants him makes me—
Charlotte’s father gives another agonized cry from the next room over.
“Do you think he can . . . ?” Charlotte’s voice trails off, her expression suddenly panicked.
“Hear us?” I offer, exchanging a quick glance with Azrael. “Why do you ask, darling?”
She looks down, retreating to the same useless denial she tried earlier. “No reason, sir. I just . . .”
I catch her by her collar as she attempts to brush past me. “You know better than to lie to me,” I growl.
She stares up into my face, her eyes rife with vulnerability.
But then she glances away, blushing.
My mouth pulls into a slow, twisted grin. “Does it turn you on? The thought of making him listen? Of punishing him like that?”
“What? No,” she squeaks, just as Azrael lets out a low growl of approval.
His attention flicks over her before momentarily lingering on me, and my balls tighten. Already, he’s hard from torturing her father—I can see it—the thick growing bulge at the front of his trousers. He enjoys breaking them nearly as much as I do.
Just like he did to me when he kissed me the other day.
Told me he loved me.
My nostrils flare, and I turn away again, fixating upon my wife.
Charlotte shakes her head, still heavy in her denial. “Of course not, I just—”
I shove her against the meat locker’s wall before she can finish speaking. “Don’t lie to me, little dove.” My gaze rakes over her. “I trained you better than that.”
My grip tightens, and her eyes go wide, but her stare flits to Azrael. “I’m sorry. I just—”
“Don’t look at me. I’m not going to help you. You chose to put his collar back on. You know what that means.” Azrael moves to brush past me.
I stop him with my free hand.
“Are you going to work that out in the scene or keep brooding about the fact that it’s my collar she’s wearing?”
Death hesitates.
“Azrael,” Charlotte pleads.
Like she doesn’t just want him. She needs him.
To protect her from me.
The thought infuriates me.
Azrael’s expression hardens slightly, but then he steps closer. “Tell me what you want, baby girl. Tell me what you want, and I can make it all better.”
I snarl at him.
As if she would ever need him to . . .
“Make what better?” she pants, breathlessly casting a quick look between us.
But Azrael’s words are like a cruel lash down my spine.
“That ache I know you’re feeling.” His eyes cut briefly toward me.
I feel pain in my jaw as it clenches. He says it to her, but I feel the weight of it in my balls, know without a doubt that he intends it for me.
And the thought only makes me even more livid.
I focus on Charlotte, pushing all thought of that damn kiss, of how he betrayed me, from my mind as I hike up her skirt. I palm her pussy until she moans so loud I’m certain her father and my whole bloody realm can hear as she grinds against me.
Promising his loyalty to my Father wasn’t enough, was it?
Choosing to love Him over me?
Now, he wants to steal my woman.
Even when it’s my collar she’s wearing.
“All right, I do,” Charlotte pants. “I want him to hear us, sir, but I can’t—”
“Can’t or won’t, little dove?” I ask, tossing out Azrael’s words from the other day.
Azrael tenses.
“I’d say if you have to ask, the answer is always won’t,” I growl, the jab cutting sharp as steel.
I feel the moment it lands.
He stiffens.
Azrael snarls. “If we’re going to do this, we’re going to do it right this time.” Azrael turns toward me. “You’re not allowed to lie either.”
Suddenly, he pulls me in for a harsh, searing kiss, and it feels as if I’ve been stabbed in the back by my worst enemy.
He kisses me like he’s my Judas.
But it’s Charlotte’s delighted gasp that destroys me.
I lean into him, drawing up to my full height and deepening my position until our tongues are so entangled, I’m able to grip him by the hair. For leverage.
I try to drag him down to the floor, force him to kneel for me.
But he manages to drag me down with him.
The demented laugh that bursts from him the moment his knees hit the floor only infuriates me even more. I stumble to my feet, glaring at him.
I hate him for it.
For all the broken promises he made me.
For that lie he dared to speak.
I glance toward Charlotte, and not only has she stripped off her thong, but she’s fingering herself so provocatively that I can tell from the bratty, defiant look in her eye she’s trying to provoke me. A fury the likes of which I’ve never known barrels through me as Azrael and I snarl in unison.
“What do you think you’re doing touching yourself before we’ve given you permission to?” I clutch her by the throat, momentarily cutting off her airway.
Azrael’s at our side a second later, taking hold of her wrists as he ruthlessly pins them over her head.
“We?” Our little brat grins.
And I see red.
But she’ll soon be reminded of why she chose to be mine, goddammit.
“Yes, we,” I answer, doubling down, even as I intend to show her she belongs to me. “Death is only here to help me punish you, little dove, and after this, you will never forget that you are mine.” I lean closer until I’m hissing into her ear. “No matter how furious you may make me.”