Chapter 6
Two weeks have passed since my unexpected and unwanted wedding to a demon.
At first, I thought I”d traded my gilded cage with my father for a pewter prison cell with my demon husband. Mammon made a bargain with my father, not me, and I wasn’t prepared to roll over and be his little wifey.
But Mammon isn”t what I expected. Since the wedding, he”s been almost… sweet to me. He”s given me more freedom and consideration in the last few weeks than my father allowed me in twenty-one years. He”s been surprisingly patient, attentive, and understanding, giving me time and space to come to terms with my new reality.
My hurt and anger have cooled, if only toward Mammon. Now, my wrath is aimed solely at my father. Whenever I think of his betrayal and how profoundly he fooled me, the burn of fury almost takes my breath away.
I spent my life under the illusion that he loved me deeply. It made me blindly, foolishly loyal to him. I was his acolyte, and he tossed me away. My father never loved me. He only wanted a sacrificial pawn to trade for his narcissistic agenda.
Mammon explained his role in Hell and how my father approached him before I was even born. He”s a demon. He was doing what demons do when he made the deal with my father. But Forest Truman, the man who was supposed to protect and cherish me, is the real monster.
Seeing Mammon waiting at the altar was a huge shock. I thought I was going to pass out when I saw his massive form, speared tail, and burning eyes. So I did what any sheltered princess would do under those circumstances—I screamed like the virginal bride I was. I was so overwhelmed with the situation and my father”s betrayal, and Mammon looked so…intimidating. So, yeah, I screamed for a minute straight until my father hit me.
I barely felt the blow—I was more shocked that he”d raised his hand to me. And no one was more surprised than me when Mammon stepped in, making it deathly clear my father would never harm me again. Mammon”s touch was oddly gentle when he wiped away my tears. I saw something in his eyes, something that made me pause—a sliver of humanity swirling in his scarlet gaze. And I knew that sliver of humanity was more than my father had in his entire body. At that moment, I knew I was safer with a demon than with my own father.
I”m no longer the naive girl with stars in her eyes. I”m a married woman with vengeance in her heart. When I think of a monster now, I don”t picture Mammon”s hulking form, sharp, proud features, or scarlet eyes. No, I picture my father.
I”ve come to look at Mammon—my husband—in a different light. He was terrifying at first. But now… now he makes me feel things I couldn”t have imagined when I first saw him. Yeah, I know. Who would”ve thought I”d find a demon sexy? Not me.
But, sweet mercy, that kiss! I thought I was ready for my first kiss. I was wrong. There was no way to prepare for Mammon.
The second his lips touched mine, he unleashed a tsunami of need, a maelstrom of ravenous hunger and explosive lust. I had no idea how to kiss properly, and he didn’t guide me; he simply took what he wanted, thrusting his tongue into my mouth and devouring me. I never imagined that kind of invasion, but it was so raw, so primal, and made me shudder with delight in his arms.
His mouth consumed mine in an act that was so much more profound than a kiss. He flooded my senses and demanded everything inside me without remorse. He called to some dark, hidden part of me that was born with my father”s betrayal, like a phoenix rising from the ashes of innocence.
And I loved it.
I wanted more.
Mammon has treated me with respect. The day after our wedding, he gave me a tour of the vast mansion he calls home. I”m accustomed to luxury, albeit within the confines of my strict upbringing, but Mammon”s home is on a whole other level. Being one of Lucifer”s best soul reapers obviously has its perks.
The house has everything: a huge state-of-the-art kitchen, indoor and outdoor pools, a games room, a spa with a sauna, jacuzzi, and steam room, a music room, and a cinema. The shaded garden is beautiful, with black flowers blooming in the shadows. But my favorite room is the expansive library, which is lined with books, some so old that I recognize the language.
It seems a lot of house for one demon, and I”ve glimpsed a spark of sadness in his eyes when we dine together. He”s… lonely.
But Mammon has been true to his word—he hasn”t behaved inappropriately or touched me again since that kiss. The only demands he”s made are for my time and for me to keep an open mind while we get to know one another. Oh, and sleeping in his bed despite the copious number of guest bedrooms. It”s the one thing he won”t bend on.
You are my wife now and will sleep beside me every night.
That first night was… awkward. My husband was a demon, after all, so why would he keep his promise to wait? I climbed into bed in pajamas that covered me from throat to ankle as he settled his formidable weight beside me. I eventually fell asleep perched on the edge of the mattress, as far from him as was possible in the enormous bed. So waking the next morning to find myself smooshed against his side, my head on his wide chest and my leg thrown over his, was unsettling, to say the least.
Every night since has been a repeat. I fall asleep teetering on the mattress”s edge, only to wake plastered against my husband. It”s as if I”m drawn to him during the night, craving the heat and strength of his body.
By the end of the first week, I gave up and snuggled into him as soon as the mattress dipped with his weight and fell instantly asleep. I woke the next morning with Mammon curled around me, my back to his front, his hand cupping my breast, and what felt like a tree trunk poking my ass. Yeah, that gave a whole new definition to morning wood.
But Mammon hasn”t forced himself on me, even though he could have. It”s… confusing. How can a demon have a higher moral compass than my father, the man who was supposed to protect me?
”Penelope.”
I startle at my name, coming back to the present. I give Mammon a wry smile across the dining table where we”re eating another delicious dinner. ”Sorry. Got lost in my thoughts.”
I take a deep sip of the wine in my glass, one of the most delicious things I”ve ever tasted.
”We”ll be moving tomorrow,” he says, not meeting my gaze.
Something in his tone makes dread pool in my stomach. Unease causes my pulse to spike, but I”ve grown a backbone, a spine of steel, in the last two weeks. It”s incredible how mentally strong you become when everything you know and believe is ripped away from you.
Lifting my eyes to his, I ask, “Moving to where?”
“I have to get back to work, Penelope. Lucifer allowed me these two weeks as a honeymoon, but he has called me back. We’ll be returning to The Below tomorrow.” Mammon”s deep voice sends shivers down my spine.
We haven”t discussed what will happen to me when he goes back to work. “Can’t I stay here?”
“No, it’s not safe,” Mammon says firmly.
”And what do you expect me to do while you”re busy… working?” I ask testily.
”You can do anything you want, Penelope. My home in The Below is a replica of this house with every comfort you could wish for.”
I grit my teeth. ”My father kept me in a gilded cage, Mammon, always telling me that everything he did was to keep me safe when he was actually ensuring I remained pure for you, a demon.”
A demon you”ve started having dreams and fantasies about.
I push the thought aside. “I don”t know what adult humans do for entertainment. The only time I was allowed out was to attend the purity balls. I”ve never been to the cinema to watch a movie, never visited a museum or the theater. I wanted to go to the circus to see the clowns and the acrobats and the zoo to see the animals when I was a child. I wanted to eat popcorn and candy floss and ice cream. I”ve been ”kept safe” my whole life,” I say, making air quotes. I lift my eyes to Mammon”s, lifting my chin. ”Please don”t transfer me from one cage to another.”
My eyes fill with tears, and I drop them to my hands resting on the table. The purity ring my father placed on my finger is now gone, replaced by Mammon”s ruby and gold wedding ring.
“I’m done eating,” I say, breaking the silence that”s fallen over us.
A wraith emerges from the dark corners of the room and takes my plate away. Yeah, that took a little getting used to—having a staff of wraiths and phantoms.
Mammon reaches across the table to wrap his large hand around mine. His dark hair curls around his face in a way that should”ve been slightly feminine, but only makes him more appealing. “Your father kept you a prisoner for his own agenda. It is not my wish to clip your wings, little one. I may be a demon, but my motives are simply to protect you from harm. The Below is a dangerous place, but no one will touch you so long as I keep Lucifer happy and supplied with the souls he desires.” He pauses, placing a taloned finger beneath my chin and lifting my gaze to his. ”I give you my word that on our next visit to The Above, I will take you anywhere you wish: the theater, art museums, the zoo”—his mouth twitches—”even the circus. We can eat candy floss and ice cream and ride the Ferris wheel until you”re dizzy.”
I search his crimson eyes and see the truth of his words. He promised to always be honest on our wedding night, and he”s given me no reason to doubt that promise.
My breath catches as he smooths his thumb over the back of my hand and links our fingers. My eyes flicker to his full lips, and I imagine what it would be like to kiss him again. I”ve told myself that my attraction is him using his Jedi mind tricks, but my gut tells me he wouldn”t, that he”s kept his word about that like he has about not pressuring me into an intimate relationship. Perhaps my reaction to him is my desperate need to feel wanted after my father’s betrayal. Or maybe—shock, horror—it”s because I”m craving sex. With Mammon.
I have that itch again, but this time, it”s stronger than ever. The longer I”m around him, the more I like him, even if he does grumble a lot about silly humans and their fragility. But I can”t deny our connection or the bond growing between us.
My eyes meet his, seeing the desire hidden behind his smile. Desire for me. I swallow hard. I know he wants to have sex with me. Am I ready to have sex with him? Am I ready to take that next step with my demon husband?
The next day arrives with an ominous weight, clinging to the air like a shroud as I prepare for our ”journey.” Not that it will take long—a split second, to be precise as Mammon will transport us to The Below with a snap of his fingers.
I try to maintain my composure, but my mind whirls with questions and uncertainties.
”Are you ready, little one?” Mammon asks, coming to stand behind me as I gaze out of our bedroom window.
I take a deep breath and turn to face him. ”As ready as I”ll ever be.”
He cups my face, caressing my cheek. ”You have nothing to fear, Penelope. But it is important that you see me in my natural environment if this marriage is to work. I was created for a specific purpose, and if we are to have any kind of future, you need to accept who and what I am—a demon with all the darkness and flaws that come with it.”
I place my hand over his. ”I”m not afraid of your darkness, Mammon. It”s open and honest. You haven”t hidden who you are from me like my father. He”s the real monster, the true darkness.”
Mammon nods. ”Very well. Let me show you Hell.”
My heart skips a beat. Hell. The word resonates like a dark omen, conjuring images of fire and brimstone. I cling to Mammon like an anchor, my fear masked by a fa?ade of determination. This is the new Penelope, the one not afraid to grab what she wants with both hands.
Mammon snaps his fingers, and my stomach tugs sharply as our surroundings melt away, shifting to an otherworldly realm. The air thickens with an unsettling energy, and I can”t shake the feeling that we”re crossing into forbidden territory. A chill sweeps through my bones, but I know Mammon won”t let any harm come to me.
The very fabric of reality seems to warp around us, and it feels like I”m sucked through a portal into a realm beyond mortal comprehension.
Hell unfolds before me in all its infernal glory—twisted landscapes, ominous shadows, and an aura of malevolence that chills me to the core. A pang of apprehension has me tightening my hand in Mammon”s, but alongside it blooms a strange fascination.
Mammon”s presence is a comfort amidst the chaos. Despite the perilous surroundings, I”m inexplicably drawn to my enigmatic demon.
This journey marks a pivotal turn in my existence—a plunge into the unknown. What awaits me in this realm of shadows and secrets?
My stomach lurches as we arrive in Mammon”s realm—a dark chamber adorned with eerie décor that seems to pulsate with an otherworldly glow. The walls are etched with intricate, ominous patterns, and the air is heavy with an unsettling stillness.
At the center of the chamber sits a magnificent throne crafted from obsidian and adorned with glistening gemstones.
Mammon gestures toward it with a solemn expression. ”That is where I conduct my business,” he explains, his eyes reflecting a mixture of pride and resignation. ”Here in Hell, humans and The Others come to make their deals, seeking wealth, power, and desires they cannot fulfill in the mortal realm.”
Mammon waves his hand, and a comfortable chair appears in the corner, along with a small table of refreshments. He beckons me toward it. ”Make yourself comfortable. No one will be able to see or hear you, but you will be able to view everything clearly. This will be a long day, but if you want to leave anytime, let me know, and I will take you home.”
Home.
Funny how right that sounds.
I watch in fascination as Mammon assumes his rightful place on the throne, a regal figure exuding an air of authority amidst the darkness. His presence commands attention, and I realize how deeply intertwined he is with the fabric of this infernal domain.
No sooner does my butt touch the chair than a procession of individuals enters one by one. Each person approaches the throne with a look of desperation and longing in their eyes, driven by a desire so profound that they are willing to bargain their very soul.
The first petitioner is a middle-aged man, his hands trembling as he kneels before Mammon. ”I seek riches beyond measure,” he declares with fervor. ”Grant me wealth and prosperity, and in return, take my soul.”
Mammon”s gaze narrows as he assesses the man”s plea, his expression inscrutable. ”Are you sure this is what you want? You are prepared to relinquish your soul to Lucifer for eternity in exchange for material possessions?”
I”m surprised by Mammon”s questions. Does he usually give these people the opportunity to change their minds? Isn”t it his job to collect as many souls as possible for Lucifer, not have them second-guess their decision? Perhaps he”s doing this because I”m here. To impress me?
No. Mammon is not a man—demon—who feels the need to impress anyone. If I”ve learned one thing about him over the last few weeks, it”s that he knows who and what he is and doesn”t seek approval from others. The purpose of today is that I know who he is by witnessing him in his environment.
”I”m sure,” the man says, his eyes glittering with the promise of all the ”things” he holds important.
With a subtle nod, Mammon gestures toward a parchment, silver scalpel, and quill that materializes out of thin air, bearing a contract written in a language I can”t decipher. The man eagerly slices the blade of the scalpel across his palm, signing his name in his blood and sealing his fate in exchange for material wealth.
I watch with curiosity and dismay as the man departs, his countenance brimming with newfound anticipation, oblivious to the impending cost of his desires.
The next petitioner is a young woman, her eyes glimmering with a hunger for power. ”I crave authority and influence,” she proclaims boldly. ”Grant me dominion over others, and I offer my soul in return.”
Mammon”s response is swift, his expression betraying no emotion as he drafts another contract. He doesn”t question this woman, obviously seeing that her path won”t be swayed. The woman signs without hesitation, her ambition overshadowing any sense of caution or remorse.
As the procession continues, I witness a succession of souls exchanging their eternal essence for fleeting desires—wealth, power, fame. Each transaction leaves a hollow ache in my heart, a deepening realization of the lengths to which mortals will go in pursuit of their desires.
But the next petitioner leaves the deepest impression on me—a frail old man, his eyes brimming with sorrow. ”I seek happiness,” he murmurs, his voice tinged with longing. ”I lost my dear wife six months ago. Grant me true joy and contentment by bringing her back to me, and I willingly surrender my soul.”
My heart thumps loudly in my ears as I wait for Mammon”s reply. The weight of the old man”s words hangs heavy in the air. For a moment, a flicker of sympathy softens Mammon”s features, betraying a depth of understanding that transcends his demonic nature.
”Happiness cannot be bought or traded,” Mammon replies, his voice tinged with a rare hint of compassion. ”And your wife cannot be resurrected, even if I agreed, because her soul did not pass through this Hell realm. She is in her rightful place.” He points a taloned finger toward Heaven.
The old man”s shoulders slump in resignation, his eyes brimming with unshed tears.
”Trading your soul will not bring back what you have lost,” Mammon continues, his tone gentle yet firm. ”What you seek cannot be found in this realm, only within yourself.”
The old man”s gaze hardens, his voice trembling with bitterness. ”You are a demon. What do you know of honor?”
Mammon”s gaze meets the old man”s unflinchingly. ”More than you may realize,” he replies quietly. ”I need to understand the depths of mortal desires to understand the consequences of sacrificing one”s soul. Happiness is finite, which is why it must be treasured. Your happiness now lies in the enduring strength of your memories of your beloved wife until you, too, join her in your rightful place.”
With those words, Mammon”s resolve remains unshaken, a testament to the enigmatic depths of his nature—a demon bound by duty yet touched by a glimmer of understanding for the frailty of human desires.
My throat tightens. My husband is a demon who has spent a millennium listening to and studying humans—could it be that some of their humanity has rubbed off on him without his knowledge?
Knowing Mammon will not change his mind, the elderly man departs, leaving behind a sense of melancholy that lingers in the air.
Hours pass as I sit quietly, watching people appear and disappear, having relinquished their souls. My heart is heavy with conflicting emotions. I”m fascinated and repelled at the stark contrast between human desires and the profound emptiness that accompanies the pursuit of greed. As I observe them barter their essence for fleeting reward, I understand why Mammon wanted me to see this.
Sometimes, the light spills into the dark, and vice versa. It”s the perfect metaphor for us, for our relationship. My demon husband is a part of the darkness, but it doesn”t mean he”s without light. I”ve lived in the light, but it doesn”t stop me from being drawn to his darkness.
Ying and yang. Life and death. Heaven and Hell. One cannot exist without the other. The universe requires balance. The question is, can Mammon and I be part of that balance?