Chapter 14
RAPHAEL
“What determines the winner? Hopefully, not death,” Baal adds the latter under his breath.
“First blood,” I call out then raise a finger in a come hither motion, baiting my stunning opponent.
The sorceress strikes without warning and mercy, the blade of her sword cutting right towards my face.
I block the move effortlessly, though I am surprised at the little enchantress’ agility. I’m further surprised at her knowledge of parry attacks as we move further through this dangerous dance.
Metal clangs against metal, a symphony to accompany our lethal waltz. Though she moves with grace and shocking swiftness, she still is no match for me.
Yet, her movements startle me—not because they catch me off guard, but rather because that aggravating spear of recognition continues to ricochet through me. Only this time, her movements appear familiar because they resemble mine.
The sorceress takes a vicious swipe across my stomach, one I narrowly avoid. Her cheeks are flushed and her ocean eyes churn like actual waves crash within him. Her desire to beat me is palpable, but I sense an underlying urge to win our bargain. It almost seems…personal.
I block another blow towards my face, and this time, we are locked against each other. Her low panting nearly distracts me as I imagine hearing them for different reasons. I shrug her off. The sorceress slightly stumbles but immediately regains her composure.
“Someone trained you well,” I say. We circle each other like vultures, and I twirl the sword in my hand. “Was it him?”
She mimics my move with an impressive curl of her wrist and smiles. “Yes.”
Each time she answers, I try to discern if she’s lying. Yet each time, her heart remains at its steady pulse, and her eyes lock on mine.
Each time, I know she is telling the truth.
And I want to rip my entire realm apart because of it.
Our swords meet again and again, our dance continuing. Liv appears to be tiring, and I’m sure the dress she wears, while a complement to her incredible body, is not doing her any favors.
“Why are you fighting so hard?” I ask. “You were more than obliging last night. Did your conscience suddenly manifest?”
Liv grunts as she brings her weapon down against mine. “I won’t be your whore.”
Ah. Interesting. The first words out of her mouth weren’t concern for her lover, but that she doesn’t want to be known as my mistress.
She’s nearing exhaustion, and I know it’s only a matter of time before she slips and I can break the barrier of her flesh.
For now, though, I’ll just break her mentally.
“I find it odd how you are vehemently against being my mistress...” Our swords clash once more, the blades locked above our heads as we face off in a battle of wits below them.
“...when your arousal still marks my clothes from last evening.”
At that, she falters, stumbling beneath the pressure both physically and mentally.
I take that opportunity to knock the sword from her hands and spin her, wrapping an arm over her chest and pulling her flush against mine .
My sword sits just below her throat, and she squirms, her firm ass yet again rubbing my cock with exquisite friction.
Her reaction is exactly what I’d hoped: her breathing stutters, and the rigidness she’d held dissipates as she sinks into me, allowing me my victory.
My breath skirts along the slim column of her neck, her body trembling as I put my mouth to her ear. “You tremble beneath the mere whisper of my breath.” I loosen my hold to let my fingers graze her breast. “Imagine what my hands could do…” my tongue tails her slender jaw. “...or my tongue.”
A delicious moan escapes her, and I have the recurring thought of taking her right here. I would bend her over right in the middle of this arena, yank up her dress, and fuck her until she longer remembers the man she came to rescue.
My cock remains as stiff as one of the statues in the gardens.
Liv reaches back to stroke me through the fabric, and I release a resounding ‘fuck’ into her shoulder.
Tossing my sword to the floor, I cup her chin and run my thumb across her plump lips.
I feel her mouth part in invitation, so I slide my thumb inside her warm, wet mouth, relishing the feel of her tongue licking and sucking, imagining it was my cock inst-
A sharp pain has me pulling away, and I release her. Holding my thumb aloft, I observe several bite marks in the form of what appears to be…fangs. Before I can dwell on that, however, I note with no small amount of horror the blood that leaks down my punctured finger.
“First blood,” she says. I expect her to gloat, or at the very least smile in claiming her victory, but her lust-filled eyes look as though she’d rather lick the crimson from my finger then pick up where we left off.
“First blood,” I repeat in somewhat of a stupor. She outsmarted me. But rather than feel any sort of anger or shame, I am now invested.
And even more determined to make her mine.
I advance towards her, pleased she doesn’t cower. “I might be the Devil, but I am also a man of my word. My knowledge in exchange for your victory.” I nod and walk past her, leaving both her and the Lord of Debauchery stupefied.
Only when I am far from the arena and close to my chambers does Baal join me in stride. “A man of your word?” He scoffs. “You are the Father of lies!”
I grin. “I offered her knowledge. I never specified whether that knowledge would be helpful or truthful.”
“She certainly gave you a run for your money, though. For a second, I thought I was getting a front row seat to a live sex show.”
I hardly remember that Baal had been standing not far from where we fought and almost fucked.
I’d been so lost in the moment, so lost in her, that I completely disregarded the fact we had an audience.
Thank fuck it hadn’t escalated, because the last thing I would have wanted to do was kill the only demon I might consider a friend because he’d seen and heard her orgasm.
Those are only for me.
“All a ruse,” I answer without feeling.
“Sure.” Peripherally, I catch the side of his mouth twitch.
I push open the door to my room and sit at the table across from the fireplace, where Baal always makes himself comfortable. He pours us both a glass of the black demon liquor.
“There is something else I found rather…enticing,” he says.
I arch my brow. “Go on.”
“Her fighting style was impressive, if not vaguely familiar. The way she fought reminded me of—”
“Me,” I finish.
“Curious, no?” He downs the liquor and pours himself another.
“She claims her lost lover taught her,” I say with bitterness.
“Perhaps you remind her of him, which isn’t a bad thing. She is obviously attracted to you, so use it.”
I knock back the liquor. “I have every intention of doing just that.” Baal pours me another drink, and I swirl the contents while I mull over something nagging me.
“Baal, do you remember the night I visited Hades?”
The Demon Lord frowns. “What about it?”
“Did you accompany me?”
He throws me that look again, the one where concern wars with bewilderment. “No, Raph. You went alone. It was a surprise to us all, in fact. No one knew you were brokering a deal with Hades.”
“Hmm.” I gulp down my drink. “And you’re sure I went alone? Not even Isadora accompanied me?”
“Not that I’m aware of. Why do you ask?”
“When I recall that evening, I remember it vividly. I remember sitting on Hades’ leather coach by the fire. I remember the Scotch we shared. I also recall his wife, Persephone, entertaining someone.”
Baal glances at me quizzically. “So? Persephone could have had a guest of her own.”
“Perhaps, but…” I halt, unsure if I should share my musings.
“But?” Baal prompts.
I watch Baal carefully. He doesn’t appear to be fishing for information. His expression is relaxed. The Demon appears genuinely curious.
Sighing, I answer, “There is an odd sensation within my bones that tells me Persephone’s guest that evening was someone with me.”
Baal stares at me for a moment then shakes his head, smiling. “See, Raph, this is exactly why you need to fuck this girl and fuck her soon, because all this—” he waves his hand up and down “—pent up sexual frustration is fucking with your head.”
I join him in laughter, but my heart isn’t in it.
The more I think back on that evening, the more I’m sure someone accompanied me.
I suppose I could ask Hades, but the last thing I need is to look weak in front of my newest ally.
My reign as King has only been for a few months, and my enemies will be itching for a reason to swoop in and dethrone me.
“You’re right,” I tell him as he pours me another drink. Baal raises his glass in a toast towards mine, and our glasses clink when they meet.
“To Debauchery,” he says and throws back his drink.
I follow suit, the liquor finally humming through my bloodstream, calming my earlier trepidation at losing the bargain with the sorceress.
After all, it certainly won’t stop me from visiting her room tonight.