Chapter 23
ASMODEUS
Ifind myself placing my hand on Simone's softly rounded belly for the hundredth time today. The tiny spark of life growing inside her has become an obsession even greater than my fixation with Simone herself. My child. My heir.
Not my first, of course. Over millennia, I've sired hundreds of incubi, succubi, and other demonic offspring. But this… this is different. This child carries not just my essence but Simone's, too. A being born of genuine affection rather than calculated breeding or momentary lust.
I’m so fixated that I've been thoroughly neglecting my territory and my duties, letting my lieutenants and generals manage it as best as they can—I truly don't care about anything but this anymore.
“You're doing it again,” Simone murmurs, not looking up from her sketchbook. Her pencil moves with confidence across the page, designing yet another garment she won't be able to wear until after the baby arrives.
“Doing what?” I ask, feigning innocence while keeping my palm pressed against the small bump.
She glances up, those gray eyes twinkling with amusement. “Hovering. Touching. Staring. Pick your obsession.”
“All of the above,” I admit, leaning down to press my lips against her temple. “I can't help myself.”
The truth burns in my throat like acid. I should tell her. I should have told her months—years—ago. That I'm not just the son of a fallen angel, but an archdemon. That the child she carries will be more powerful than she can possibly imagine.
Simone sets her sketchbook aside and covers my hand with hers. “What's wrong? You've been... distant today.”
I force a smile. “Nothing's wrong. Just lost in thought.”
She studies my face with a perceptive gaze. “You know you can talk to me, right? Whatever it is.”
Could I? Would she still look at me with those adoring eyes if she knew the truth? Or would she recoil in horror, try to flee again—this time with our child? Fuck. I couldn't bear it.
“I know,” I lie smoothly, thousands of years of deception making it effortless. “I'm just wondering what our child will be like. What powers they might develop.”
Simone's expression softens. “I've been wondering that too. Will they have your wings?”
“Perhaps.” I kiss her forehead. “Whatever they inherit, they'll be extraordinary.”
The air shifts suddenly, a subtle change in pressure that makes my spine stiffen. Power ripples through the ether—ancient, familiar power. My blood runs cold.
“Az?” Simone notices my tension instantly. “What is it?”
Before I can respond, the manor trembles, the walls vibrating like a tuning fork.
“Stay here,” I command, rising to my feet.
Her hand catches my wrist. “Az—”
“Stay,” I repeat, my voice harder than I intend. “Please, Simone.”
For once, she doesn't argue. Perhaps she senses the danger radiating through our home.
I make my way to the entrance hall, my fists clenching and unclenching at my sides. I haven't felt this presence so close in... centuries. He rarely leaves the Burning Pits these days.
The doors swing open without a touch, and there he stands.
Sataniel.
The Morningstar. The First Fallen. The Devil himself.
He appears as he always does when visiting the upper territories—in his most beautiful mortal form. Starlit silver hair frames a face of such perfect symmetry it defies description. His eyes, like diamonds set in alabaster, find mine immediately.
“Asmodai,” he greets, his voice like strawberries and champagne. “It's been too long.”
I quickly bow my head, returning my gaze to his like I can hold him in place with it. “My Prince. To what do I owe this honor?”
His mouth curves into a smile that doesn't reach those crystalline eyes. “Can't an old friend pay a visit without suspicion?”
“We're not friends, My Prince,” I remind him carefully. I'm the only archdemon who was born in Hell, the only one the Devil hasn't known in Heaven. “And you never leave the Pits without purpose.”
Sataniel laughs, the sound like tinkling windchimes. “Direct as ever. I've always appreciated that about you.” He steps into my home uninvited, his opalescent skin seeming to glow from within. “Won't you offer me refreshment?”
It's not a request. I lead him to the salon, where crystal decanters of various spirits await. I pour him the oldest whiskey, knowing well his preference for human vices.
“Your home is... quaint,” he observes, looking around with thinly veiled disdain. “Rather modest for an archdemon.”
“It’s one of many, and it suits my needs.” I hand him the tumbler, careful not to let our fingers touch.
He takes a sip, those unsettling eyes never leaving mine. “I sensed it, you know. The spark. The potential.” He gestures vaguely upward, toward where Simone waits. “Your half-breed is with child.”
My jaw tightens. “My Cambion,” I correct, “is carrying my heir, yes.”
“How interesting you find that particular distinction important.” He swirls the amber liquid thoughtfully. “You've sired countless children before. What makes this one special enough to warrant... domestic bliss?” The last words drip with sarcasm.
I sigh, exasperated. “Why are you here, Master?”
Sataniel sets the glass down, all pretense of casual visitation evaporating. “This child might serve an important role in certain plans I have.”
“My child has nothing to do with your ambitions,” I state sharply.
“Oh, but it does.” Sataniel's smile widens. “A child with your bloodline…” He trails off, his eyes taking on a distant look. “Is she aware, by the way? Your little pet? Does she know what you truly are, Archdemon of Lust?”
The sound of a sharp intake of breath draws my attention to the doorway. Sataniel's chuckle lets me know he sensed Simone before I did.
She stands there, pale as death, her sketchbook clutched against her chest like a shield. Her eyes are wide with shock, darting between Sataniel and me.
“Simone,” I begin, taking a step toward her.
She backs away, shaking her head slightly. “Archdemon?” she whispers. “Archdemon of Lust?”
Sataniel's laughter fills the space between us.
“Isn't this delightful? She didn't know!” He turns to Simone, bowing with exaggerated courtesy.
“Allow me to make proper introductions. This is Asmodai, or Asmodeus as humans prefer, or Asmodee as the French say. Archdemon of Lust and Pleasure, father of incubi and succubi, and sire to hundreds of demonic offspring. And you, my dear, are carrying his most recent demonling.”
Simone's face drains of what little color remained. Her hand goes protectively to her round stomach.
“You lied to me,” she says, her voice barely audible, her eyes burning as she glares at me. “All this time...”
“Not entirely,” I counter, desperation making my tone sharp. “Everything between us is real. Everything I…”
Even though he probably knows, I can't bring myself to voice my feelings in front of the Devil.
“How can I believe anything you say now?” Tears gather in her eyes. “Three years, Az… Asmodeus… whatever your putain name is! Three years, and you couldn't tell me the truth? That you're… evil?”
Sataniel watches our exchange with undisguised amusement. “Such drama. Reminds me of the early days with your mother, Lilith.”
Simone turns to Sataniel as if noticing him for the first time. I see the moment she notices his otherworldly beauty and allure, her mouth going a bit slack. The sketchbook slips from her numb fingers, clattering to the ground.
“Who… who are you?” she asks him breathily. I can't help the stab of jealousy I feel as she gazes at him, even though I know no one less than an archdemon could resist the Devil's charisma.
“Oh, how rude of me.” He tilts his chin, his mouth set in a sadistic smile. “Sataniel is what I was known in Heaven, though you mortals prefer the term Lucifer. Or, if you prefer, you can call me Master.”
I use the ether to transport myself to Simone's side as she sways, catching her before she hits the ground.
“Don't touch me!” she hisses, stepping back until her back rests against the wall. The look on her face makes me want to throw myself into the Burning Pits.
“Please, My Prince,” I say to Sataniel, hating that he reduced me to begging. “You said what you came here to say. She knows the truth. Please, leave us.”
“I cannot do that yet, Asmodai. We have something to discuss, the three of us.”
“I have nothing to say to you,” Simone whispers bravely.
“But you do, little Cambion.” Sataniel's voice turns hypnotic, compelling. “You carry a child of immense power. Power that comes with danger. Yet you are mortal. Without protection, both you and the babe are vulnerable to... ambitious forces in Hell.”
I hate that he's right. I close my eyes, trying hard not to say something that would get us both killed. “What do you want?”
“You two will bind your souls.” He states it matter-of-factly, as if suggesting we sign a human prenuptial agreement. “An irrevocable binding that will connect the halfling to your power, Asmodai, and tie her to you for eternity.”
Simone's breathing quickens. “Bind our souls? What does that mean?”
Sataniel's diamond eyes lock onto her. “It means, my dear, that you would sell your soul to Asmodeus in exchange for a portion of his power. It would ensure your safety and your child's.”
Simone's throat bobs as she swallows. “And if I refuse?”
Sataniel's smile is wolfish. He's enjoying this and openly showing it. “Then you leave me no choice but to ensure your safety in other ways.”
I straighten, ready to protest, when my surroundings change. One moment, I'm standing in our mansion, the next I'm in the Burning Pits, my ears assaulted by the sounds of wailing souls.
“Fuck… No!” I roar, lunging forward and grabbing the bars of the giant cage I'm suspended in. Simone's sitting in her own cage, her eyes wide with fear, her hand resting protectively on her stomach. When she starts crying, sobs shaking her body, I finally learn what it means to have a broken heart.