Chapter 10 #2
I glance back, my voice ice cold. “To see if your boyfriend can take advantage of an actual Devil.”
The party is still going. I disguise myself in mortal form using a glamour potion created by one of the mages in the palace.
Tall, clean-cut, and entirely forgettable.
I glance back at the bed where she was lying.
There’s blood on the sheets. Her blood. The rage nearly blinds me.
I don’t remember the walk downstairs, just the absolute fury racing through my being.
I feel the way it floods in my chest, slow at first, like lava crawling beneath my ribs.
No one here knows what he did, no one here heard her call for help.
They laughed, danced, and drank, all while she lay upstairs and bled.
I walk over to a girl in bunny ears and an outfit that leaves very little to the imagination, asking her where Ethan is.
I know his name, what he looks like, everything about him.
That’s the thing about being the Prince of Hell; I know fucking everything about everybody.
She points her finger at him, and I follow.
He stands with a red cup in his hand, his shirt unbuttoned, revealing a mediocre body at best, fucking laughing with his friends.
I take him in, looking him up and down as I approach.
He was her first. He took it from her while she couldn’t fight back.
My fingers twitch, and I don’t disguise the fury on my face as I walk toward him.
“Ethan,” I mutter.
He turns, a half-drunk smirk on his face. “Yeah?”
I grab him by the throat before he can speak again, his cup hitting the floor, causing people to scatter.
His friends shout—but I don’t focus on them.
I drag him back up the stairs, past gawking eyes, into the room.
The room where the sheets are still stained, the air still sour.
I slam him against the wall so hard the drywall cracks.
He coughs, wheezing. “Who the fuck—who are you?”
I smile, “Korithax, motherfucker.”
“What do you want? I haven’t done anything wrong.” He shouts, trying to push me back.
His attempts are futile; his strength is basically a soft breeze compared to mine.
“You raped her,” I snarl.
His face twists, realisation taking over his smug fucking face. He knows that I know exactly what he did.
“No—I didn’t. She’s my girlfriend. She wanted it!”
I punch him once. Then again, and again, until his lip splits and blood splatters across the carpet. Thankfully, my mortal form also weakens my strength; otherwise, he’d already be dead.
“She said no,” I growl, grabbing him by the jaw and forcing him to look at the blood on the bed. “Do you see it? Do you fucking see what you did?”
He tries to speak, but I don’t let him. I let a little of my immortal form bleed through before I throw him across the room, his body crashing into the desk. His shoulder dislocates with a sickening snap, and he screams. Good.
I walk over, stepping on his chest to pin him as he writhes. “You hurt something that belongs to me, Ethan,” I whisper. “And in Hell, there are rules even devils do not break.”
I kneel beside him, watching the confusion etch across his face. I pull a knife from my pocket, dragging it down the centre of his chest lightly, not enough to pierce. Yet.
“Rape,” I say, “is one of them.”
I grab his arm and break his wrist with a flick of my hand. He screams again, louder.
He begins begging, pleading, “I didn’t know—please—I didn’t mean to—”
“Shut up,” I hiss.
I grab his leg and twist until I hear the bone crack, then do the exact same to the other. He vomits all over himself whilst I stand, looking down at him as he sobs. Pathetic fucking excuse of flesh. I truly do despise the mortal species.
I drag him by the shirt, leaving a trail of blood, and throw him onto the bed. “Look at it,” I growl, shoving his face into the sheets. “Look at what you did!”
“Please—I’m sorry.”
I scoff. Sorry, fucking sorry. Like that fixes anything that he did to her. She’s the fucking sun, yet when she awoke, she looked like a long-dead star—cold and dim—and he did that to her.
“I own her soul,” I growl. “You defiled something that belongs to me. Something that is mine.”
His sobs turn choked and pathetic. I turn him onto his back so he can see me.
He tries to scramble away as I release him, but his mutilated body doesn’t get very far.
I stand over him, my body shifting—my true form bleeding through the glamour.
My wings unfurl, large with whisps of smoke coming from them.
My horns appear, curling from my temples, my eyes blacker than the void, gleaming with the promise of death.
He looks up, his eyes going wide. The stench of piss fills the room as he starts hyperventilating.
“Say her name,” I demand.
He stutters. “D-Daisy—”
I smile slowly, not an ounce of warmth behind it. “Good boy.”
I grab his throat, bringing us eye to eye. “I’m going to fucking kill you. And when you get to Gehenna, Ethan. I’ll be waiting.”
He tries to beg for his life, but it’s too late.
I crush his larynx with one hand, watching as he gurgles and splutters, choking on his own blood.
He twitches as I hold onto him, his blood pouring over my hands until he stops moving altogether.
His soul tries to flee, but I catch it mid-flight.
It screams in my palm as I open the gate directly to Gehenna.
Gehenna holds the pit where the worst of the worst rot forever in agony.
I shove his soul through without an ounce of hesitation.
I’m going to ensure he suffers forever, with no chance of judgment.
Silence settles in the room, and I glance one more time at the blood-stained bed, no longer knowing what’s Ethan’s and what’s Daisy’s. Then I turn and walk away.
I return to Zeriavoss with blood on my hands and the memory of his screams still echoing through my skull. I expect to feel better, but I don’t. It should’ve satisfied me, yet it didn’t.
I stride through the obsidian halls without pausing, gore still slicking my hands, my face locked into a scowl so deep the lesser demons scramble to get out of my way without even needing to be told.
She’s awake when I reach the guest wing; the wards I had placed earlier prevented me from teleporting or opening a portal anywhere near here.
I can feel her presence, soft, uncertain, but conscious.
Her presence presses against the walls of my palace, impossible to ignore.
I don’t knock when I arrive. I push the door open and step into the room, still drenched in Ethan’s blood.
I make no effort to hide it, she should know exactly what summoning me costs.
The room is warm and low-lit, the velvet drapes muffling the wind outside.
She’s sitting up in bed, still in that glittering devil costume.
The horns have been discarded, but the mascara streaks still sit beneath her wide, wary eyes.
Her gaze catches on me, and she freezes entirely, her breathing hiccupping.
I don’t bother speaking; instead, I just cross the room and drop into a chair by the fireplace, blood crusting against my forearms, spattered across the torn collar of my shirt.
She opens her mouth, closes it, then tries again.
“You came to the party…”
“You summoned me,” I say flatly.
She looks down, fingers knotting into the blanket. “I remember everything.”
I lean back, crossing my arms. The chair creaks beneath me as I make myself comfortable. The scent of blood is strong in the air, clinging to me like a second skin.
She swallows, her delicate throat bobbing. “What… what did you do to him?”
I tip my head, my voice dropping into a growl. “Whose blood do you think this is?”
She flinches.
“Ethan, wasn’t it?” I continue, casually examining a bit of dried gore beneath my nail. “I didn’t bother asking, I know everything. Comes with the nature of my job. But I’ll admit, watching him scream my name was fucking satisfying.”
She recoils, horror painting her expression. I let it settle between us, let her stare at me with disgust, let her truly see what she called.
“He’s in Gehenna now,” I say, voice bored. “Lucifer will keep him company. Probably let him rot in his favourite pit for a few decades before getting creative.”
Her lips tremble. “You… killed him?”
“No,” I say with a humourless smile. “I ripped his soul from his body, shattered it into pieces, and hand-delivered the pieces to the most sadistic being in the universe. Wait… that was after I finished destroying his mortal body. So technically—yes. I killed him.”
Silence falls in the room, and I can hear her heart hammering in her chest, scenting her fear.
A knock splits through it, and I grind my teeth. “What?”
A young servant pushes the door open an inch, face pale, eyes wide. They’re barely into adolescence, their tiny horns barely sprouted. It’s pathetic that my father lets them be pushed into service this early. Just another cog in his fucked up little machine.
“S-sire,” they stammer. “A scroll just arrived. Marked urgent.”
“Read it,” I snap.
The servant unfurls the parchment with shaking hands.
“Thanks for sending me Ethan Lawson personally. It’s not often Your Highness delivers new toys to my gates. I’ll have extra fun with this one until you come and explain why he was handed over by the Prince of Hell himself. -Lucifer”
I smile, sharp and joyless. “Fucking fantastic.” The servant lingers, unsure if they’re dismissed. I roll my eyes, waving a bloodied hand. “Out.” The door clicks shut, and I turn my gaze back to the little mortal still shaking in bed.
“You’re… the Prince of Hell?”
“Yes,” I answer, tone clipped.
She looks like I slapped her. Her fragility truly was starting to grate on me.
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
I rise, pacing up and down the dark marbled flooring. I don’t look at her. I don’t want to look at her. Because when I do, I see it. I see that flickering sun behind the damage, still trying so hard to shine. I fucking hate it. I hate how fragile she is. I hate that she thought he was safe.
“I’m tired,” I snap. “Tired of mortals thinking the title means I give a shit about their suffering. Tired of being summoned like some glorified bodyguard.”
A beat passes, and I see her expression change.
“I shouldn’t have summoned you,” she whispers. “I didn’t mean to. It just—it came out. I didn’t know you’d—”
“Kill your boyfriend?” I finish coldly.
Her lips part, but she doesn’t respond. She can’t even deny it. She doesn’t even correct me when I say the word boyfriend. My vision darkens, and I cross the room before I can even register the movement. She gasps as I slam my hands down on either side of her, pinning her beneath me.
“You’re still calling him that,” I snarl, “after what he did to you?”
She chokes on a sob. “Please. Get off me.”
I don’t move. Instead, I inch further into her space.
“He drugged you,” I bite out. “Violated you. Left you bleeding in a strange fucking room, the door open for anyone else to come and take what they wanted.”
“I know,” she cries. “I know—please—”
“And you care that he’s dead?” My voice is a low growl. “You still want to believe he loved you? That you mattered to him?”
Her tears fall down her face, her nose turning red, her cheeks splotchy. She’s shaking beneath me, like her body is struggling to hold itself together.
“You weren’t anything to him but a game, Daisy. A conquest. Something to win.”
“Stop,” she sobs. “Please!”
“I should’ve left you there; maybe he would’ve come back for round two. I should’ve let your mortal little world swallow you whole, and let him destroy you more than he already has.”
Her cry breaks into a scream of grief, her entire body curling inward, like she can hide away from me. I step back, my chest heaving.
What the fuck am I doing? I look down at my arm, her handprint bruised into my skin like a brand. I turn away and face the fire, grinding my jaw.
“I’ll have the help bring tonics. One to prevent pregnancy, one to heal.
Take them or don’t. I don’t care.” I move to the door, gripping the handle.
“When you’re done, you’ll be sent home. Aran will arrange it.
” Her silence presses against my spine, and I hate the feeling of it.
I glance back, just once. “And don’t summon me again, Daisy.
I don’t have time for your mortal bullshit. ”
Then I’m gone.