Chapter 10
RAPHAEL
Empyreal.
The only word that can describe how she feels beneath my fingers. I drag the pads of my fingertips along the inside of her upper thigh, relishing the way she trembles beneath them.
Her breath stutters at my tantalizing strokes, beautiful black eyelashes draping across her cheekbones as her eyes flutter closed then open. Those ocean eyes are filled with unbridled desire and a melancholy longing - like she has been yearning for my touch far longer than I would imagine.
But that isn’t possible.
It would be so easy to relieve her of the ache that undoubtedly blossoms between these luscious thighs, to slide my hand a bit higher, feel her arousal soak my fingers. It would be so easy to have one, small taste of her…
Liv shifts on my lap, rubbing her ass right against my impossibly hard cock. A fragile moan escapes her lips, and I stifle my own at the friction, wishing more than anything I can bend her over this chair and take her how I wanted to last evening.
For fuck’s sake, Raph, snap out of it.
That little bit of beratement from my brain does the trick. My body doesn’t get the memo, though. I’m still uncomfortably hard, but I push thoughts of her soft body in my hands to the recesses of my mind.
I still my hand on her thigh, firming my grip. She releases the smallest whimper, one I savor. “First, you can explain why my kingdom’s most vicious creatures followed you around like lost puppies upon your arrival? They continue to circle the grounds, you know.”
Liv throws me a challenging stare, her lips curving deviously. “I tend to elicit that response from males.”
“Hmm,” I agree, even though an inferno rages inside me at the thought of her proximity to another male. I do my best to ignore it. “That answer isn’t good enough.” My grip tightens on her flesh. Her eyes close in a wince, yet her mouth parts on a shaky breath.
“Next question: what is the name of the person you are looking for?”
The sorceress’s eyes widen, blood blooming high on the apples of her cheeks. She clearly refuses to answer, something that aggravates me, not only as King, at the sheer audacity of her disobedience, but as a man.
A fucking absurdly jealous one.
Liv forcefully wrenches herself from me, throwing me off my guard. Her slim wrist is back in my grasp with serpentine swiftness, and the she-devil grits her teeth in frustration while she struggles in my hold.
I finally stand, her eyes following as I rise to my full height.
Most would cower beneath me, especially one whose head reaches only my chest bone, but not this little minx.
She continues to fight, spewing a string of colorful words aimed directly at me, all the while holding my stare like the fucking goddess she is.
“Are you done?”
“Fuck no,” she spits. “Let me go.”
“Answer the question, and I will.”
“No.”
That word and its blatant “fuck you” delivery is like a match to tinder. “You refuse an order from your King?”
She ceases her tirade, going unnaturally still and settling those stunning, cold eyes on me.
“You are not my King.”
I advance, the witch backstepping as quickly as possible, though she’s no match for my speed.
Yet, she maintains an agile grace, tilting her chin up at me defiantly once her back reaches the wall.
My hand finds the delicate collar of her throat, settling there with involuntary purpose.
It’s jarring how comfortable she appears in this position: pressed tightly against the wall, held captive by my grip.
I still hold her wrist in my right hand, sweeping my thumb across her galloping pulse.
One might construe that as fear, but her eyes tell a different story.
“How is it that you came to be so fucking bold?” Or so at ease beneath my hands. I press my fingers firmly into her neck—not enough to withhold her air supply like I did with Isa, but enough to threaten.
“I had a very good teacher,” she answers with a vicious bite. Jealousy once again paints my black heart green, no doubt in my mind her teacher was or is her lover.
I bring my mouth a whisper from hers. “He taught you well, then.” She doesn’t correct me on my choice of pronoun, so I push further. “Well enough, in fact, that you lack the common sense to fear your King.”
“You’re not—”
She winces as I tighten my grip on her throat. “I would hope you are well aware I am more than just a King.”
“The Devil,” she breathes.
My mouth takes on a decidedly wicked curve.
“The Devil. And yet knowing that, you danced with me.” I ease my grip on her neck, my lips finding the tender flesh just below her earlobe, some strange instinct driving me toward that very spot.
Her pulse jumps deliciously beneath my thumb, still stroking her skin.
“Do you know what it means to dance with the Devil?”
She denies me a response, though her stuttering gasps as my lips dance across her skin are enough of an answer for me.
“To engage in reckless or immoral behavior.” I nibble her ear, cherishing the moan she attempts to suppress.
“Aligning yourself with something evil and unholy.” My hand drifts from her neck towards her waist, my fingers skimming her arm along the way.
Goosebumps erupt on her skin, and I pull back, my gaze drawn to her peaked nipples straining against the fine fabric. My smile widens.
“Are you this responsive for him?”
The green in her eyes flashes ominously while the blue darkens, giving her an entirely predatorial look.
“Tell me, my King,” she drawls tauntingly, “are you always this eager for a woman you barely know?” Her eyes drop pointedly to my cock straining against my pants.
My smile doesn’t fall from my face. “Well played.” She attempts to free herself from my grasp, and I bring my attention to the wrist I still hold within my fingers.
An hour-glass is inked into her skin. To any normal individual, it would seem stagnant.
Yet, I can make out how the grains of sand drift slowly from the top portion to the bottom.
She’s pressed for time, and the thought of her being trapped in my realm, at my mercy forever, fills me with wicked glee.
“I won’t keep you any longer.” I release her wrist. “The sand in that hourglass is starting to favor the bottom.”
She holds her wrist as though my touch branded it somehow, and a scowl twists my features. Without another word, Liv turns on her heel and marches from the room, not sparing me a single glass as she slams the door shut behind her.
I reach down to tame my raging hard-on, my cock so full, it’s bordering on painful. I need an ice cold bath before I explode.
Upon entering my chambers, I see I have another guest, and this time, it isn’t Isa.
“Will I ever know peace?” I groan, throwing my shirt over my head.
Baal grins, seated in his usual chair by the black demon liquor. “Is that a dagger in your pants, or are you just happy to see me?” He raises a clawed finger toward the ceiling in an ‘aha!’ moment. “Oh, that’s right! You gave your family heirloom to a stranger last evening.”
I run a hand down my face in exasperation. “Baal, if you aren’t here to suck me off, then leave.”
The Demon pauses, titling his head in consideration. “My friend, I would gladly get on my knees for you, but let’s be truthful, shall we? We both know you’d rather be staring down into eyes like the sea, your cock between lips like—”
“Alright I get it.” I wave him off and slump down on my bed. Baal painting the perfect picture of Liv—I truly hate calling her that, why do I hate calling her that?—on her knees before me does nothing to alleviate the situation in my pants.
“I take it your inquisition with Hades’ emissary didn’t go well?”
I glance up at him and narrow my eyes. “Why do you assume I was with her?”
Baal gives me a supreme eye roll. “Raph, you asked me to tail the sorceress, to give you updates on her routines and whereabouts. So color me fucking surprised when she dips on Isadora’s breakfast you orchestrated and waltzes right into your little secret hideaway. Does that not concern you?”
It does. Immensely. I am the only one that room allows entry.
Even Baal is barred. I could barely contain my shock when she peered through the door and looked around for proof of life.
I made myself one with the shadows, waiting to see if she was there for nefarious purposes.
My anger and shock faded when she stormed directly toward the banquet table and piled food upon her plate.
Unable to take my eyes from her, I watched in awe as she brought the fork to her mouth, eyes closing as she savored the taste.
I never thought I could feel envy at an inanimate object, but in that moment, I wanted nothing more than to be that utensil, to feel the brush of her lips, the stroke of her tongue.
And when she moaned in ecstasy, I wanted nothing more than to be the sustenance that brought her such pleasure.
“I confirmed she is here at her own behest, seeking a man—a lover,” I clarify, expelling the word from my tongue like acid.
“Anything having to do with Hades is bullshit, save for the fact that she is under his protection, which leads me to believe whoever she is looking for must be someone close to Hades as well.”
Baal steeples his fingers, fixing me with a serious expression. “Frankly, I’m more concerned about the power she wields within these walls. She commands Hell Beasts, walks through doors only you are supposedly capable of entering. It’s almost like she is an extension of you.”
“That’s absurd,” I scoff, rising from my seated position. Nerves spark like livewires at Baal’s implication, and I start pacing.
“Is it?” he pushes, standing to meet me. “Raph, if she is someone who can match you in power—”
“I’m the Devil,” I snarl. “No one can match me in power.”
Baal sighs. “Fine. If she has substantial power, then why not use her to produce an heir?”
My blood chills in my veins. Sure, I want to fuck this woman until the stars fall from the heavens, but a child?
My child.
Our child.
I try to block the thought, but it doesn’t abhor me as much as I thought it would.
“Think about it,” Baal says. “Isadora cannot give you an heir, nor can any other demoness in this realm. The prick upstairs saw to that when he and your father made their deal. But you are expected to produce one all the same, and the perfect broodmare was practically handed to you gift-wrapped in a red dress.”
I want to snarl at him for calling her a ‘broodmare,’ but I can’t lose my composure.
“And I saw her expression when she left that room earlier,” Baal continues. “You may not have fucked her yet, but the scent of her arousal was so fucking intoxicating, I’m surprised it didn’t draw an entire pack of Hell Beasts to our front door.”
That elicits a snarl from me. Baal raises his hands in defense. “You are oddly protective of her, and you clearly want to fuck her, so give me one good reason why this is a bad plan?”
I offer the most obvious one. “This…lover she seeks. Once she finds him, she plans to leave.”
“And you have no idea who he is?”
“She refused to speak his name.” Which is strange, considering I can’t fathom how she expects any aid in finding him when no one knows who she is looking for.
“I’ll find out who he is,” Baal says, determined. “And once I know, I’ll lock him in the dungeons. We could use him as a bargaining chip.” He grins maliciously. “Keep him alive under the request she stay and become your official mistress.”
A sour taste fills my mouth, like when she spoke her name, like something doesn’t sit right.
“In the meantime,” he continues, ignoring my silence, “do what you do best, Raph.”
I raise a brow. “And what is that?”
“Be a charming Devil,” he winks. “And before you know it, these halls will be filled with the cries of your newborn.”
Again, the thought of a child with her doesn’t drain the blood from my head, but the prospect of coercing her…
What the fuck is wrong with me? I’m the fucking Devil. I shouldn’t be worried about whether some mortal woman will bear my child. My father sure didn’t. He saw my mother, he took her, and here I am.
The King of Hell.
I return Baal’s sinister grin, confirming our plan is in place.
“Make sure she dines with us this evening. We start tonight.”
“Perfect.” Baal drops his gaze to my breeches, brows furrowing. “Why in the ever-loving fuck are you still hard?”