Chapter 3
BELLS AND WHISTLES
BELIAL, FORMER KING OF HELL, HUNG THE LAST SHIRT on the bar and then stepped back and surveyed the spacious closet.
After more than a month, he was officially moved into his new house.
The walk-in had hanger racks on three walls with shelves above and below. All of it was empty save for one small corner occupied by his existing wardrobe. It was hard to find clothes on Earth when one was seven feet tall.
There hadn’t been much to move. In Hell, he’d had several castles full of shit, most of it loot Raum had stolen and hoarded away in Bel’s spaces whether he liked it or not.
Now, he had next to nothing. A collection of top-of-the-line kitchen items (including his swanky espresso machine and grinder), a laptop, a couple bags of clothes, and that was it.
He had so little stuff that he’d only bought the house on the condition that all the staging furniture was included so he didn’t have to buy it himself. Decorating wasn’t exactly his strong suit. As long as a chair didn’t collapse under his weight, he didn’t give a damn what it looked like.
Backing out of the closet, he turned to survey the bedroom. On one side, a wall of tall windows overlooked the landscaped backyard. Beside it, a patio door went to a private balcony. Opposite the wall of windows was his brand-new bed.
He mentally amended his list of possessions to contain his “Alaskan” king.
The biggest mattress on the market without going custom, at nine-by-nine feet, it was finally enough room for him to properly stretch out.
He’d gotten sick of hanging off the end of his California king at the old place, and he’d been more than happy to get rid of it.
As for the rest of the house, it was big, expensive, and empty.
So very empty.
That was what he’d wanted. He was sick of listening to his brothers bitch at each other all hours of the day.
He was sick of the messes they made in his kitchen and how they never fucking did the dishes.
And ever since they’d all started dating, it had only gotten worse.
He was sick of overhearing Meph and Iris bickering and then fucking at full volume five seconds later.
He was sick of Asmodeus and Eva’s music coming up through the floorboards from the apartment below.
He was sick of Raum and Sunshine treating him like one of their rescue cases.
Every time something so much as momentarily irritated him, the rage reared its ugly head.
Putting away a cup someone else left out …
his hands would shake while he did it. Telling someone to shut the fuck up …
he would speak through gritted teeth. Listening to others argue …
his fists would ball up so tightly, his knuckles turned white.
Even being spoken to in a normal tone of voice caused his blood to boil slightly.
Being around other people, even his brothers, was a constant battle against the rage, and he was so goddamn tired of it. He’d just wanted some peace and quiet. But now he was here, standing in his humongous empty house, wondering what the fuck he was doing with himself.
What was his goddamn purpose? Why had he even come to Earth anyway? With how he felt now, he’d have been better off staying in Hell. There at least, he had a reputation to live up to.
He’d had legions that feared and adored him. He’d had rivals and shady acquaintances. He was fucking Belial, King of Hell, one of the baddest motherfuckers in the underworld.
Here, he was just a human wannabe with a big fuck-off mansion.
Maybe he ought to buy a fuck-off car to go with it. The trick would be finding one he fit into.
Exiting the empty bedroom, he walked down the empty hallway and descended the empty staircase to the empty entranceway. From there, he passed under an arch he didn’t have to duck under—another reason he’d chosen this house—into the kitchen.
The kitchen was the main reason he’d picked the house.
Eleven-foot ceilings meant he didn’t feel like the roof was falling on his head, and if he did lose his temper, he had a bit of room to grow before he hit the ceiling.
The countertops were marble, the stainless, state-of-the-art appliances brand-new, including a second oven and a double-wide gas stove. There was lots of cupboard space and two double sinks with semi-professional faucets.
His espresso machine tucked nicely under the cupboards in the corner on one side, and his other appliances barely made a dent in the counter space on the other.
Across the room, there was a dining table and French doors that led to the back patio by the pool.
He liked to drink his morning coffee out there and watch the sunrise.
He busied himself by opening his laptop to the recipe he’d been reading the night before.
Demons didn’t need to eat to survive, so he never felt hungry, but he sure as hell liked food.
He fucking loved food, in fact. Flavors and spices, the smell of cooking meat and vegetables …
Sometimes he swore it was the only reason he was still sane.
It was late afternoon, and that seemed a reasonable enough time to cook a meal. Not that it mattered. He could eat at two in the morning for all the difference it would make.
The truth was, he didn’t know what to do with himself now that he’d gotten what he wanted, and there was no one around to keep in line and no crises to solve. It didn’t matter that things had finally calmed down. He was constantly on edge, and everyone around him knew it.
Worse, they’d all decided to make it their life’s mission to fix him.
As if summoned by those very thoughts, a tidy little knock on the patio door interrupted his recipe reading. Sunshine stood outside, waving happily at him and smiling radiantly.
He groaned inwardly. It still weirded him out that a heavenly angel was not only dating but living with his brother Raum. And she wasn’t just any angel. Sunshine was one of the Principalities, the highest ranking angels of the Third Sphere—the Sphere tasked with enforcing Heaven’s rules on Earth.
With a sigh, Bel waved a hand, gesturing for her to come in. She made sure to close the door snugly and remove her shoes on the mat so not a speck of dirt got on his floor.
That was the thing about Sunshine. She was so careful and conscientious, it was impossible not to like her.
When Bel had first found out about her, he’d been fully on board with killing her. He’d attempted it too, but Raum had stopped him, the lovesick idiot.
But now that Sunshine had proven herself, he’d decided he didn’t mind her after all.
Chopping the archangel Raphael into tiny pieces and sending him to Hell for an eternity of torment at the Necromancer’s hands was a great way to get into Bel’s good books.
And she’d done it all to protect Raum. He would always respect her for that.
Sunshine and Raum now lived together in the guest house on the other side of the backyard, and she always came up to Bel’s house to help him with dishes, even when she didn’t eat. She’d even snuck into his house when he wasn’t around and cleaned a few times, just because she was so damn nice.
“Good evening, Belial,” she said, sliding onto one of the bar stools at the center island. “How are you feeling tonight?”
He narrowed his eyes. “We already had our meeting last week. You don’t get to psychoanalyze me.”
She held up her palms. “I assure you, that’s not my intention. I simply want to know how you’re doing.”
Sunshine’s mentor, some high-up, big-cheese angel named Adriel, had done the impossible and managed to change the rules about demons living on Earth.
Now, a demon could apply and be granted permission to live here if they submitted to counseling and followed certain rules.
Adriel had put Sunshine in charge of the whole operation.
Bel and his brothers were the first demons to be part of the program, and Adriel had declared that they had to sit down for counseling with Sunshine if they wanted to be allowed to stay.
It pissed Bel off being told what to do, but he did it for his brothers.
And because Sunshine was aware of his anger issues and careful not to set him off.
“I’m fine,” he told her, planting his palms on the counter on either side of his computer. “Finished moving in today.”
“Oh. Congratulations.” She smiled that angelic smile. She didn’t ask why it had taken him a month to unpack all of six boxes.
“Where’s Raum?”
“He stayed late at the shelter to help Caro with a new rescue. He’ll be home in about an hour, I believe.”
“You guys planning to eat tonight?” Bel asked, pretending like he didn’t give a shit and wasn’t secretly hoping he’d have an excuse to cook for them.
Angels didn’t need to eat to survive either. Demons liked food because they enjoyed indulgences of all kinds. Angels probably wept in shame if they so much as licked a chocolate, but Sunshine wasn’t like the rest of them.
“I hadn’t thought about it.”
He grunted. “I’ll make something.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t want to impose. Are you sure?”
He shot her a look. Again, he had to make it look like it was an imposition and not something he actually wanted to do. A demon had to keep up appearances.
“Well, then,” she said, accurately interpreting his expression, “may I help you prepare?”
Deciding on a simple pasta dish, he set her up with a cutting board and showed her how he wanted the mushrooms and leek cut, and then he put a pot of water on to boil and grabbed a pan for the sauce.
She glanced up at him after a minute or so. “How have you been since our session?”
“Angry,” he grunted, crushing some garlic cloves with the side of a knife.
“Hm. And have you given any thought to my idea?”
“I’m not opening a restaurant. I’d kill the first human to complain that it was too spicy or some shit. And if some incompetent fuck screwed up in the kitchen, I’d gut him with a serving spoon.”
Sunshine winced. “Maybe you could find someone you trusted to help you with … personal relations.”
“Who?” He cocked a brow. “I don’t trust most people to fill up a glass of water from the tap.”
“Well …” She grinned. “I did see Meph break a glass last time he tried that here, so I don’t suppose I blame you.”
“Exactly.”
“But that doesn’t mean everyone is like that.” She chuckled. “There are lots of competent humans. Caro, the human Raum works with at the shelter, is very intelligent. I doubt she would break a glass.”
“She would still shit her pants if I flew into a rage.”
Sunshine pursed her lips. There was no denying that.
“Working with or even near humans isn’t an option, Sunshine. You need to stop suggesting it. If I listened to you, people would end up dead when I inevitably lose it and burn down the building. Then you’d definitely have to send me back to Hell.”
“I think you have more control than you believe, Belial.”
“You willing to bet lives on that?”
She slid the chopped mushrooms across the cutting board with a sigh. “I agree you have a point. I just wish you could find something to sustain you the way your brothers have.”
“I don’t want to kill people. You should be glad. Isn’t the whole purpose of your new job to make sure I’m not going on murder sprees?”
“I already know you’re not.” She smiled, chopping the leek next. Her pieces were a little uneven, and he was glad he’d sharpened his knives earlier; with the way she was cutting, she’d fillet herself if the blade slipped. But … she was all right.
He tossed the mushrooms in the pan to fry and then threw in the garlic. “Then why are we still talking about this?”
“Just doing my job,” she replied evenly. “And part of that job is to make sure every demon under my care has a healthy outlet for their inevitable frustrations. It just so happens that your frustrations are more … explosive than others.”
He snorted. Talk about an understatement.
Or maybe a very literal statement.
“Your brothers have all found somewhere they fit in. They have a purpose, goals they’re working toward, and people around them who support that.”
Yeah, they did, and he was fucking glad about it. When Asmodeus had convinced them all to escape Hell, Bel had never pictured they’d have ended up where they were now. All well-adjusted and balanced and shit.
Asmodeus had broken his curse. Mishetsu had escaped his slave bonds. Meph had made peace with his demon. Raum had finally solved the mystery of his lost memories, and Bel had even seen him laugh the other day, for fuck’s sake.
Maybe Hell had turned into a frozen wasteland since they’d left.
“I want that for you,” Sunshine said, abandoning her chopping efforts to look pointedly at him. He pretended not to notice, still tossing the veggies into the pan.
“I want you to find that kind of purpose and acceptance, Belial. I believe you can.”
Problem was … he didn’t share that belief. Not with his rage, and the fact that when he lost control, he turned into a flaming beast who obliterated everything in his path. While he was on Earth, his entire focus had to be on never letting that beast out of its cage. Otherwise people would die.
He hadn’t left Hell for himself. Hell was the only place he was safe, really.
The only place he was able to give into the rage without fear of hurting others.
He didn’t give a shit if he fried a bunch of demons.
He didn’t give much of a shit about humans either, but he didn’t want to break the rules, and fried humans tended to stay dead, unlike regenerating demons.
He’d escaped Hell for his brothers. To give them a chance at a better life. He’d done it because they wouldn’t have gone without him. Because for some stupid reason, they looked to him for some kind of leadership—something he’d never wanted to give.
And now …
From now until he fucked up and got himself banished back to Hell, it was all about surviving. Holding in the rage. Keeping control of the anger. Never letting the flames take over.
Just keep holding it in.
One day, he’d probably snap, and the consequences would be disastrous. But he was going to put that day off for as long as possible. He’d keep trying. For his brothers.