13. Levi
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
LEVI
I stood silently at Evelyn’s bedside, arms crossed as I watched her restless form. Her breaths were uneven, body shifting under the covers as remnants of her dream flickered across her face. Even in sleep, she looked troubled.
Aziz leaned against the wall nearby, idly tapping his fingers impatiently on his thigh. “How long is this going to take?”
Ian, crouched near Evelyn’s pillow, kept his attention fixed intently on her.
“Patience,” he replied calmly. “She’s almost there.”
I bit my tongue. Arguing with Ian was pointless. Instead, I watched as Evelyn’s body finally relaxed, her breathing evening out into the slow rhythm of deep sleep. Her face, though marred by the bandage on her forehead, looked serene in the pale moonlight streaming through the window. Like a goddamn angel. It was sickening.
Ian straightened up, tilting his head as he studied her. “We can’t have her waking up too soon,” he said, motioning toward her raw, blistered skin. “If she rubs against it again, the pain will snap her right out of the dream state I’ve been working on.”
I quirked a brow skeptically. “You’re suggesting we...help her?” The idea seemed absurd. Since when did we play caretaker to humans?
Ian just shrugged, already reaching out to carefully lift Evelyn’s head, adjusting her pillow to create a soft, undisturbed space for her injury. His movements were precise, almost tender. It made my skin crawl.
Aziz snorted derisively, crossing his arms. “Why are we playing nursemaid? She’s supposed to be suffering.”
“It’s justified,” Ian said without looking up from his ministrations. “If she wakes up too soon, it might derail the temptations I’ve been weaving into her dreams.”
I hesitated a moment, then stepped in, carefully arranging Evelyn’s arm so it rested gently at her side. I avoided looking at her face for too long, jaw tightening. Her lovely, almost angelic features sparked an irrational anger in me. I hated how drawn to her I was.
“Fine,” I said grudgingly. “But let’s not make a habit of this.” Tending to a human, even in the name of corruption, left a bitter taste in my mouth. We were demons, for Lucifer’s sake. This was beneath us.
Ian straightened, and dusting off his hands, he threw a cocky glance at us. “That should hold.”
Aziz let out an exaggerated sigh, pushing off the wall. “Are we done babysitting now?”
I cast one last glance at Evelyn, making sure everything was in place. Her blonde hair fanned out on the pillow, framing her face like a halo. Damn her. Even now, she looked every inch the pure, sweet innocent.
“Yeah,” I said roughly, turning away. “Let’s go.”
We slipped into the quiet hallways of the convent, our forms melting into the shadows. Invisible, silent, we moved as one, leaving no trace of our presence. The still air carried the cloying scent of frankincense, myrrh and candle wax, a reminder of the holiness that permeated these walls. It made my skin crawl.
Hudson’s office door loomed ahead, slightly ajar. A flicker of something sharp and hot pulsed through me. Annoyance, perhaps, or anticipation. I pushed the feeling aside as we stepped into the office. Ian’s face glittered with malice, his smile razor-edged in the dim light. Aziz prowled the edges of the room, all coiled tension and barely restrained violence.
Hudson sat hunched over his desk, his pen scratching across the pages of a leather-bound journal. The rhythmic sound filled the room, the only noise in the heavy silence.
Ian materialized first. “Priest.”
Hudson’s head snapped up, his eyes wide and searching. I could see the moment he began to see us, the subtle shift in the air, the prickling sense of wrongness that crawled across his skin.
“Who’s there?” His voice wavered only slightly, a valiant attempt at bravery.
Ian stepped into the lamplight, his form shimmering at the edges, not quite solid. His grin was slow and deliberate, a predator toying with its prey. I followed, positioning myself slightly behind him, my expression carefully blank.
Aziz appeared last, lounging against the wall with a casual arrogance. He looked for all the world like he was paying a social call, but I could see the barely leashed desire for violence.
Hudson’s face drained of color as he took us in, but to his credit, he stood his ground. “What do you want? Who are you? How did you get in here?” he said, quite a bit steadier than I would’ve expected.
Ian tilted his head, considering the priest with a cold amusement. Ignoring all his questions, he smirked at him with cold malice. “You hurt her.”
Hudson’s brows knit together. “Hurt her?” From the look on his face, a hundred questions must have flashed through his mind in a few seconds, then, realization dawned on him. “Evelyn? Her…her head? No, I didn’t mean?—”
Aziz cut him off with a chuckle, low and dark. “Oh, we know. You didn’t mean to. You’ve only ever been kind to her, right?”
Father Hudson nodded his head frantically. “Yes. I’ve only ever tried to guide her, to help her. I would never harm her.”
Ian’s expression sharpened, a blade poised to strike. “Oh, but you did harm her, didn’t you? You touched what wasn’t yours to touch.”
Hudson shuddered, his eyes widening as my thoughts slipped into his head. “Please,” he said, “ “I don’t understand. What are you talking about?”
Ian glanced at me, a silent question in his eyes. Shall we begin?
Father Hudson’s screams echoed off the stone walls as Ian’s power surged through him, searing every nerve ending with white-hot agony. I watched impassively, even as a dark satisfaction curled in my gut. The man jerked and shook, clamping his hands on the armrests of his chair, cords standing out on his neck and forearm as agony burst through him.
Beside me, Aziz’s face shone with sadistic glee. He always did enjoy a good torture session. I could practically taste the waves of lust rolling off him as Hudson writhed and pleaded.
“Please,” the priest gasped, “please, make it stop. I’m sorry, I didn’t know?—”
As the priest slid from his chair to the floor, crying out in pain, my thoughts drifted back to Evelyn. The way her face had looked so serene, so innocent, even with the angry burn marring her skin. The way her body had shifted under the covers, caught in the throes of the dreams Ian had woven for her.
Why does Lucifer care so much about her? The thought rose unbidden. Why does it matter what happens to one little human?
“Enough playing,” Ian said. “It’s time to make sure the priest doesn’t interfere again.”
Tendrils of energy flowed from Ian’s body and into Hudson’s prone form, still lying crumpled on the office floor. The priest’s body convulsed, his eyes rolling back in his head as the possession took hold.
Aziz let out a low whistle of appreciation. “Damn, Ian. You don’t mess around, do you?”
“It’s not enough,” Ian hissed, teeth bared like a wolf. “Mental agony isn’t enough. Hurt him. Make him bleed.”
I glanced at Aziz. “Sounds fun.”
A hungry grin spread across my lips as I snaked my belt free from my belt loops. Aziz snatched up a letter opener from the desk, a wicked pointed thing.
Grasping his shirt, I ripped it open, exposing the white undershirt beneath. I barely got my hands out of the way before Aziz slashed at him, digging a shallow furrow across the man’s stomach. Ian groaned in pleasure.
“Fuck,” Ian moaned. “I can feel his pain. It feels good. Give him more.”
Grabbing my belt, I folded it in half, and brought it down on Hudson’s chest. The crack of leather on skin made my cock grow stiff. A blood red welt erupted immediately after striking him, and the priest’s mouth dropped open to scream, but Ian’s partial possession had him under control. There would be no more calling out, no sound at all, other than the mental cries of agony only Ian could hear.
Aziz knelt low, pushing the tip of the blade to Hudson’s chest. “You’ll think twice about hurting Evelyn, won’t you, priest?”
With deliberate and aching slowness, Aziz pushed the tip of the blade a millimeter under the skin of the man’s areola. Blood welled up as he slid it in a circle, tracing the entirety of the priest’s nipple.
“ Yes ,” Ian hissed, his hand rubbing at his own crotch as Aziz worked, the pain giving him sexual pleasure. Part of me wished I’d been the one to take possession of the man.
Aziz finished the circle, then dug the tip deeper, twisting and shoving, moving shallowly all around. The priest’s chest was coated in blood now, his eyes wide and bloodshot, tears coursing down his cheeks, but unable to scream out.
“Fuck you and your God, priest,” Aziz said and bent his head low, taking the mostly severed nipple in between his teeth.
With a savage twist, Aziz yanked his head away, and with it, tore free the nipple. Blood surged up, and Hudson’s face twisted with agony, his head thrashing back and forth.
Aziz used his tongue to flick the tiny morsel of meat into his mouth, and began to chew. “Mmmm, tastes like bacon.” He nudged the priest with a toe. “Were you a cop in your past life, padre?”
“Roll him over,” I said, and Aziz did as I asked, Hudson rasping out panicked and agonized breaths as we did.
After tearing off the rest of his upper vestments, I brought the belt down on him again and again, slapping the leather so hard that the welts began to bleed. Strips of blood, oozed and colored the man’s back. With each strike, he flinched and bucked, pain pouring through him. At the corner of my vision, I spotted Ian with his dick out, stroking it madly, head thrown back in ecstatic pleasure, mentally bathing in the priest’s suffering.
“What’s wrong?” I grunted, slapping him again. “Isn’t this what your precious savior went through? Can’t take it?” Ian stepped closer, cock still in his hand as I kicked Hudson over, and brought the belt down hard on his crotch.
The priest’s eyes went wide, face almost purple, agony written all over his face.
“Shit,” Ian grunted, stroking his cock madly; his hips bucked forward, and thick white ropes of cum burst out of the tip, shooting out, painting the tortured man’s face in milky strings of fluid.
“Leave him,” Aziz said, staring down at the ruined man in disgust. “None of the wounds will be visible when he’s dressed. He’ll be too ashamed and confused to do anything.”
I stared at the priest as he writhed, and wept on the floor, his hands helplessly pawing at his face to try and wipe away the cum that Ian had spurted onto him. It was what he deserved for pressing that fucking thing onto her head.
Evelyn had looked so fragile and vulnerable in that bed. As the three of us faded away, vanishing from the office, anger surged through me again at the thought of someone hurting her. Why did I care about who hurt her? Why did Ian or Aziz? A strange, defensive anger simmered beneath the surface. Unfamiliar protectiveness, intense and confusing, swelled. The thought of her in pain, her vulnerability, left me trembling with rage, my muscles coiling like a spring ready to unleash at the mere prospect of anyone hurting her. If anyone dared, I’d kill them.
As we turned to leave the room, something glinted on the desk. A ring. I picked it up and turned it over in my hand.
Aziz leaned over. “That’s the ring I got Evelyn to keep from the library floor.” He took it out of my hand and slipped it into his pocket.
I arched my eyebrow at him, but he just shrugged. “What? It’s a nice memory.”