Chapter 17
Chapter
Seventeen
FAMINE
How was it that a glorious being like myself always seemed to be reduced to waiting around for a man? Blech. I didn’t waste my time on them if I could avoid it. And for good reason. They always let me down.
Case in point.
Lucifer simply abandoned his throne, leaving us to keep things running smoothly with nothing more than a “See you later” and a wave. After all the torture he’d put me through, you’d think I’d at least rate a heads-up or check-in.
Now here I stood, waiting on another male who was likely just as cocksure. And just as disappointing.
I picked at my teeth, my chrome red nails gleaming in the fluorescent light.
I was leaning against a boring cinderblock wall, one stiletto-clad foot propped up against it.
I might be stuck waiting, but I looked fucking hot.
I’d opted for my demonic form; she was my favorite visage.
My long red tresses flowed down my back, nearly to my waist. It was stunning in contrast to my choice of clothing, a skintight black leather bodysuit that matched my delectable little black horns.
How could anyone resist me? One glance my way and they’d be sucked into my gaze, lost to the milky white of my eyes and unable to escape my kiss.
Releasing a heavy sigh, I glanced down the long hallway for the eight-hundred-and-twenty-seventh time. You’d think for a guy on a very set schedule, this asshole would at least be punctual.
“No wonder it’s taken this long for the apocalypse to unfold. Men will be the downfall of everything. Rome. Democracy. Marriages. The economy. Their egos ruin every—”
The soft scuff of a shoe over concrete was my only warning he’d arrived.
Sloth. The final Prince.
He was disgustingly beautiful, his inky black hair in a perfectly coiffed pompadour. He was lean with chiseled muscles, his face all perfect angles and full pouty lips. Give him a guitar and he could have been Elvis. With a leather jacket, he could have been James Dean.
“What, no applause?” he asked, his voice blessed with a rolling Irish accent just this side of cruel.
He was my own personal brand of catnip. Pretty and mean. Exactly my type.
“That’s it?” I deadpanned.
“What was that, darlin’? Surely you’re not speaking to me in that tone.” He cocked his head as he assessed me, acid-green irises pulling me in.
I had to tear my focus from him before I took a step closer. Then I realized what the handsome fuck was doing.
“Don’t try and use your charm and magic on me, Sloth. I’m not your target.”
“You could be.”
“Never gonna happen, hot stuff.”
His shoulders dropped. “At least you admit I’m hot,” he eventually said with a shrug, sauntering over to me. “You really should afford me the respect I deserve, though.”
“For what? Walking into a room?” I offered him a slow, sarcastic clap. “Great job. Well done. I’m soooo impressed.”
Eyes widening, he took a beat before closing the distance between us and leaning in until his mouth was inches from mine. “Give me five minutes and I’ll leave you so impressed you’ll be begging me to stop.”
“You know, you Princes talk a big game, but so far, all I’ve seen is a bunch of pompous asses who show up, make a mess, and then wait around to be told what to do.
” I met his dominance with my own, bringing my lips a breath away from his like I was going to kiss him.
Then I snapped my teeth, nipping his full bottom lip with my petite fangs.
A bead of blood blossomed on each side, and he hissed. “Careful, Slothy. I bite.”
He leaned back, wiping away the blood with a sneer. “Bitch.”
“Aw, that’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me.” I gestured down the hallway with my head. “Come on, I’ve got a present for you.”
He didn’t follow when I started walking. I stopped with a sigh and slowly spun back around to face him. “What?”
“Do you have a death wish?”
“News flash. I can’t die.”
“Perhaps not, but I can make it so you wish you could.”
“Promises, promises.”
“Are you really that stupid?”
“What am I supposed to be afraid of, Sloth? Maybe you’re the one who isn’t showing enough respect. Do you know who I am?”
His brow furrowed as he stood, arms crossed over his chest, posture all masculine bravado. God save me from toxic masculinity.
“I couldn’t care less who you are. I fear no one. My arrival was heralded by a tidal wave so massive it wiped out the entirety of South America. In one fell swoop, I claimed millions of souls.”
I gave him a doe-eyed stare, my hair tossed over my shoulder as I mocked, “What? Like it’s hard?”
He growled, and a little shiver raced up my spine. If I weren’t in such a hurry to get this show on the road, he and I could have so much fun together.
“Are you always like this, darlin’?”
“Like what? Perfect? Amazing? Beautiful? Intense? You’ll need to be more specific.”
His lips twitched. “Challenging.”
“Oh, yes.” I turned on my heel and added an extra sway to my hips. “Come along now, handsome. Your services are required. Perhaps when this is all over, I’ll find another use for you that will be . . . mutually enjoyable.”
His laugh was a sexy rumble. “I don’t fuck crazy.”
“Yet.”
“What was that?”
“You don’t fuck crazy yet.” I tossed a flirty wink over my shoulder, catching his incredulous expression. “The name’s Famine, by the way. But you can call me Sabine.”
He quirked a brow when I held my hand out, waiting for him to kiss the back of it as one would for royalty. He glanced from my eyes to my hand and shook his head slowly once.
“Fine, suit yourself. But know this, Slothy. If I wanted you to, you’d crawl across a floor of broken glass to kiss the toe of my boot. And you’d beg me for the privilege. I make a much better friend than an enemy.”
“You’re quite confident for a lass who is facing off with a sadist. You know that, don’t you?”
A throaty laugh escaped me. “Oh yes. But trust me, my confidence is earned.”
“So, tell me, Sabine,” he murmured, coming up beside me as we continued down the hall. “What does a horsewoman want with one of the seven Princes of hell?”
We stopped in front of a locked door, and I made a show of unzipping the front of my catsuit all the way to my belly button before I pulled the key out of my cleavage. “It’s simple. I want to win.”
It took him longer than he probably liked to force his gaze up from my perfect breasts. “You have my attention. I’m not sure that’s a good thing.”
Unlocking the door, I pushed it open and stepped into the dark room. The soft whimpers coming from within sent glee ricocheting through me. I did love it when they whimpered.
“Get the light, would you, my prince? I want to show you your welcome gift.”
With a click, the room illuminated, casting my chosen hostage in a flood of overhead light. His white cassock and red papal shoes gave him away for who he was, but still I asked, “I assume you don’t need an introduction?”
Sloth looked from me to his present. Then his lips twisted into a wicked smile before the room filled with his evil laughter.
“Oh, Sabine. This is brilliant.”
“Yes, yes, we’ve established that. Now, do with him what you will, but don’t kill him. He’s proving to be very stubborn and resolute in his devotion. I want you to change that. We have plans for this one.”
“Plans?”
“Ever heard of a mass possession?”
The pope jolted in his bindings.
“Can’t say that I have.”
“Me either, but doesn’t it sound positively scrumptious?
Just think about all those souls, corrupted in one fell swoop because they’re meek little lambs listening to their holy father as he leads them to eternal damnation.
” I shivered. “Welcome to the apocalypse, handsome. Now be a good boy and persuade my pope.”
“Aye, that does sound right up my alley. Perhaps you and I are more suited than I thought.”
I grinned. “I did tell you I made an excellent friend.”
Sloth was too busy pulling out a selection of tools to pay me any attention. That was all right. I had business to attend to myself.
“You two have fun,” I called over my shoulder. I’d barely made it out the door before screams chased me down the hallway. A giggle escaped, and I clapped my hands together in glee. “Oh, this is delightful. I just love when a plan comes together.”