Chapter Twenty-Five
Luke
Luke?
I told her to call me that.
What was I, human?
I was going to have an aneurysm—or pop a blood vessel I didn’t even need. The cursed, useless organ inside my chest beat like a caged beast. No outward sensation, no pleasure, but my body rioted anyway.
My heart still beat. My desire still scorched me. And I couldn’t do a damn thing about it.
Madness.
Pure seething madness.
I swiped my tongue across my lips, desperate to taste her, hoping for even the faintest trace. Nothing. Not a whisper of her sweetness. Not even a phantom warmth remained.
It drove me restless—ravenous.
I left her alone, not because I wanted to. I left because I couldn’t stand lying to her anymore.
I wanted to fuck Kara. Not tease, not toy with, not punish. I wanted to take her. To slam into her and feel her stretch, grip, pulse around me.
I. Had. Her. On. My. Tongue.
On my fingers.
And I couldn’t feel a damn thing.
The tragedy of it stole a breath I didn’t need. This was a punishment worse than banishment, worse than exile.
To want something more than I ever had—
To have it—
And not be able to experience it?
That was hell.
For a moment, I thought I smelled her.
A blink. That’s all it was. The scent of something dazzling—warm, floral, alive. Like sunlight soaked in honeysuckle.
And then it was gone.
That split second would haunt me for the rest of eternity.
I accepted what I couldn’t have long ago. A lack of sensation should’ve made her easier to resist. But I hadn’t realized how much a monster could still want—even without touch, without taste.
It didn’t matter that I couldn’t fuck her. I could still touch her.
My sight hadn’t failed me. Neither had my hearing. I saw her—hair tousled across the bed, skin flushed, legs parted, her body trembling in the aftermath. And I heard her—each sharp breath, every broken moan as she came undone beneath my hand.
It was disgusting—pathetic—how badly I wanted to turn around, shove her legs open again, and watch her mewl like the kitten she was.
I underestimated how far Kara would go to escape me. She let me touch her. Showed me want. But it had to be an illusion. A calculated act. There was no way she could desire me.
I knew who I was in her story. In her family’s story. The villain. A monster. The Devil.
And if Faye spoke the truth…
Then it was the sight of her—not war, not pride, not rebellion—that led me into damnation.
She clipped my wings.
She made me the Devil.
She made me her villain.
Whatever I saw in the scrying well—whatever vision shattered my angelic self—must’ve been her. The moment that cracked me open and let sin slither inside. And now, she continued to unwind me. Always. Always her.
Her fate wouldn’t change.
And mine—ours—were carved in ruin long before her first breath.
Still…I wondered if she’d try again. Try to fool me with that wicked body.
And if she did?
I’d let her. I’d worship her.
Even without the senses that made such acts pleasurable.
It was maddening.
Being around Kara, with my body still numb, felt like I’d returned to my angelic prison. Unfeeling. Cut off. Yearning but bound.
But unlike the angels, I want to fall. Again.
I’d fall a thousand times if it meant tasting her.
Touching her. Once.
Agitation gnawed at my bones. I stopped mid-stride and looked over my shoulder. She was right where I’d left her. I always felt her. Even when I tried not to.
What irritated me more? Her pretending to want me, or my wanting her?
If I could feel again, I’d give it all to her.
If I could touch her properly, I’d make her believe it. Hell, I’d take her pleasure even if I got none.
That truth twisted inside me, repulsive and raw. It made me sick. Which is why I preferred the lie.
A lie where I pretended I didn’t want her. Where she didn’t ruin me.
But she did.
I might be caged, but I was still the king of Hell.
And kings didn’t crave their enemies.
They didn’t fantasize about licking them raw. About drowning in their taste.
I can’t even taste her.
But it didn’t stop me from wanting to bury my face between her thighs.
There were a thousand things I needed to attend to.
Harvest was on the loose. The Reapers were clawing at my gates again. Clever, but suicidal.
Their stunt nearly got her killed.
If not for Faye…
A cold pit opened in my gut. That thought—losing her—sent a violent jolt through me.
I had no choice.
I needed to see Kara again.
Just a quick peek. To make sure she was behaving.
(Kara and obedient didn’t belong in the same sentence.)
I’d kept her from fading out of Hell, but I couldn’t block her powers completely.
There were too many monsters in my domain; without her abilities, she’d be a meal.
I could lock her back in a cell.
That would make this easier.
But when I saw her sulk behind those bars, the ache in my chest was too much.
It was enough that she was trapped in my realm.
She didn’t need to feel caged too.
So, I let her wander.
Let her breathe.
And now?
I slipped into shadow, heart pounding, hunting my disobedient bane once again.