Flames of the Underworld

PROLOGUE

PHOENIX

Flames lick around my body, smothering me in their heat.

I stretch out my arm, letting the blaze dance down my flesh, reveling in the power that courses through my veins.

A spark snaps on my shoulder, leaving a pop ringing in my ear.

I close my eyes and take a moment to revel in the heat, the burn, the wildness of my true nature.

“P-p-please,” the man beneath me sputters.

Pitiful fucking human. A creature such as I, an immortal being of flame and fury, does not bend to the pleas of man. My eyes roll within my smoldering sockets before my flaming irises fall on the fool who dares to speak in my presence. I am hot, burning rage. I am vengeance. I am death.

“It was a mistake, I didn’t mean to—”

“You didn’t mean to?” I snap, cutting off his foolish attempt at pleading.

He is a low-level member of the Brotherhood, running a branch in the suburbs which is mostly supposed to be dealing in petty drug deals.

He has greasy pale skin and slicked back blond hair.

His eyes are bloodshot, his arms covered in track marks, clearly dipping into his own supply.

“You didn’t mean to kidnap, rape, and then attempt to traffic a fifteen year old? ” I bark out.

The man has the decency to look guilty as I list his crimes. Too bad he didn’t have such decency before he became a shit-stain on the Earth, one which I am more than happy to eliminate. My power is my fury and my flames. My purpose—vengeance.

“She was a junkie,” he tries to explain as he backs away, crawling across the floor on his hands and feet like a sad little crab. “She owed me money.”

My flames burst outward as righteous anger pumps through me at his words. “She was a child. You got her hooked on the product and then took advantage of that to violate her,” I yell as sparks begin to shoot from my fingers, landing on the cement floor around his shaking form.

“Pl—please,” he whimpers. “I only took what was owed to me.”

I let the flames coursing through me dampen slightly, the cool air pricking at places where my skin is exposed.

Smoke begins to rise from my still smoldering flesh, wrapping around me in an intricate dance.

This human thinks he can lie to me, fool me, best me.

He is a true fucking idiot. He comes face to face with an ancient creature composed of flames, and this imbecile thinks he will lie his way out of his inevitable fate.

The hubris of men is truly astounding. I pretend to think about his plea.

“She owed you?” I ask slowly. “Truly?”

The exceedingly stupid male takes the bait. A sliver of satisfaction runs through me and I have to tamp down the growing wall of fire which seeks to be unleashed. He nods eagerly, scooching closer to me as he makes his plea.

“You know how these desperate bitches are,” he states, and I nod as if his words are as pathetic as him. “They offer it up, then cry foul later when you won’t offer them a damn ring on bended knee.”

I nod sympathetically, but internally, I cringe. I am quite certain that no woman would wish to tie themselves to this sniveling sack of shit, even if he offered them a ring big enough to sink the Titanic.

“And,” I begin as I pull up my power, letting the surging wave of fire simmer right beneath the surface of my skin. “Did you do it? Did you give her what she deserved?”

I am not constrained by an ancient code of ethics or morality as other immortals. Rules do not bind flames. But, hearing him admit his guilt before I roast him like a dog on a stick would be most enjoyable.

“Absolutely.” He nods eagerly, both his second and third chins bobbing. “That bitch got exactly what was coming to her. She screamed as I slid into that tight little cunt, but she owed me—”

The vile garbage spewing from his mouth swiftly turns into screams of horrific pain.

The sweet smell of singeing skin fills the air as my flames burst forth, roasting the fucker.

I must admit—I can see why humans rave about the smell of barbecue, roasting flesh smells quite mouth-watering.

My stomach grumbles as his shrieks begin to falter, his skin bubbling and blistering as burns cover every inch of flesh.

I surge my power forward, increasing the heat to terminate the measly man’s existence on this Earth.

I am no hero—quite the contrary, actually.

I am a monster, a beast born from the fiery pits of the Underworld.

I am an immortal being meant to purge the plague of humanity from the world we know.

I have existed before most remember, and I shall persist long beyond the measurement of recorded time.

But, I do so enjoy when I get to incinerate truly worthless wastes of air.

And this shithead—he was an epic excuse for life.

“Do svidaniya, Grigori,” I say to the charred remains left lying on the cement as my flames begin to recede.

A noise outside has me extinguishing my smoldering flickers of light until I’m bathed in the shadows of smoke. I peer through the darkness of the warehouse to where a door is carved into the metal walls.

“You like that?” a man’s voice asks from outside in the alley behind the empty warehouse where I sit with Grigori’s roasted corpse.

I should leave—shift swiftly back into human form, hop on my bike, and get out of here.

It is never wise to remain at the scene of a crime.

Especially not in my natural state. And yet, I find I am absolutely unable to do that.

Despite reason and logic and every rational thought within my mind, I am inexplicably drawn to the soft, feminine moan which sounds from outside. Something inside me can’t not know.

With quiet flaps of golden wings, I slip across empty space to the back door which leads to the alleyway. Closing my eyes and holding my breath, I push the door open slightly and slowly. It gives without a squeak, and I let out a satisfied sigh.

“Yes, more,” a woman moans. She has a deep and sultry voice that has my cocks jerking to attention.

Carefully, I peer through the small gap in the door.

There, in the alleyway, is undeniably the most attractive woman I have ever seen.

Her radiant red hair frames a heart shaped face, laying in soft waves around her.

Pale blue eyes are rolled back into her head as her rose-petal lips hang open in a silent moan.

She is wearing some type of corset, shirt, contraption that has her ample breasts pushed up high.

They’re pale and plump and begging to be covered in my marks.

Shit, that was positively possessive. Must be the monster in me that is causing such an animalistic reaction.

“Such a dirty slut,” the man moans as he pumps his fingers in and out of her exposed cunt.

My cocks thicken painfully as I take in her pretty pussy, exposed to me with her leather skirt pushed up to her hips and no underwear in sight.

A dark patch of curly hair lands in a small strip down the front, leading directly to where the man’s hand is thrusting in and out of her harshly.

His fingers are absolutely dripping in desire from her, and I can’t help but wonder if she tastes as delicious as she looks.

“Your dirty slut,” she sighs as her hips lift up to meet his thrusts.

“You gonna come for me like an obedient whore?” he goads as his thumb lands on her clit and presses against the needy nub.

Her shriek of pleasure has my restraint snapping. My hand falls to my swollen cocks. I tease the length of both members, the corkscrew texture along the outside creating rows of thick ridges that my fingers trace delicately across.

“Yes. Yes. Yes,” the stunning creature pressed up against the brick wall chants like a prayer. I want her moaning just like that beneath me as I slide my cocks inside her tight entrance.

My talon tipped fingers wrap around my cocks, moving in time with the woman’s writhing hips. I don’t remember the last time I ever touched myself in my monstrous form, much preferring the comfort of a female woman to my own hand.

And I’m fairly certain that human women prefer human cocks.

But this temptress’ mewls and whines of pleasure are driving me to near madness. My hand moves quicker, rubbing my cocks against each other, the ridges of one kneading against the other in a way that sends electric shocks of pleasure through my core.

“I’m gonna come,” the woman purrs, and my eyes flit up to look at her face. My fire-filled gaze locks with her own—her eyes staring straight at me as she lets go.

Her body goes rigid, her mouth flies open, and yet, she doesn’t break our stare as her release washes over her.

“Fuck!” she screams into the night air.

Her pleasure is my undoing. My lymphs swell, pulse, then unload.

I follow my woman over the edge—fire consuming my body entirely as wave after wave of pleasure crashes through me.

Ropes of sticky, sweet, cinnamon release shoot from both my cocks.

Despite the flames surrounding me, our gazes remain locked.

“That’s it, show me just how good Daddy makes you feel,” the man praises, reminding me that he’s even here.

I close my eyes as the final burst of release shoots from my cocks, splattering against the cement floor below. A crackling moan radiates through my chest.

“Well, that was fun,” the woman states, and my eyes fly open to see her righting her clothes and fixing her hair. “Perhaps I can repay the favor tomorrow?”

The man offers her his elbow, which she willingly accepts.

As he spins her to turn back inside, I catch a glimpse of his face and recognition flits through me.

I know him, well not know him, but I’ve been trailing him for weeks, determined to infiltrate his inner circle and gain access to the very expensive, and very much stolen, tapestry, which is currently in his possession.

Alexander Yovik is a notorious art collector and thief.

And it seems someone has beat me to him.

As Alexander leads the woman back to the door, she flips her ruby hair, turning slightly to look at me over her shoulder. Throwing me a smug wink, she disappears back through the door and into the club beyond. The same club Grigori was supposed to be staking out for signs of Alexander Yovik.

I take a step back into the shadows while my mind races.

Flames and feathers retract back beneath my skin, which turns a much more human shade.

My limbs snap and crack as my figure shrinks back into my mortal form.

The shift is never painless, but it is necessary for my success within this world.

When the last embers finally fade, I adjust my leather jacket, dusting some of the soot from the sleeve.

Whoever that woman is—I need to find her.