Chapter 16 Leviathan
Leviathan
When Galilee Kincaid first walked into the parlor with Lucifer, she’d brought a wave of power with her, hot and heavy and
thick as it rolled through the room. Leviathan could detect power as if it were a fragrance, an oiled perfume on a lover’s
pulse points, and Galilee smelled like crumpled tobacco burning in sheaves in the corners of a temple. It made Leviathan immediately
wary. Her power smelled a little and too much like Lucifer’s—both of them with that smoke, as if you were burning two desperate things in two different worlds. Leviathan made a note to share this finding with Lucifer
once they were alone; surely it had some significance.
He could understand why Lucifer was clinging so tightly to the girl—the Devil had been lonely for long enough that even the
threat Galilee presented to him was welcome. Leviathan tried not to think about how Luci’s voice had dropped when he mentioned
how arousing it was to be burned by the girl’s touch; it reminded the prince too much of the things he used to share with the King of Hell, in that other life.
Back then, Lucifer had liked to be the one giving out pain, yet Leviathan couldn’t help but wonder what he would look like receiving it, his beautiful mouth gasping open, his eyes flushing black.
It was entirely possible Leviathan loathed Galilee because she would know, if she didn’t already.
She could gaze into Lucifer’s flecked eyes as he panted under her hand, while Leviathan could
only guess, with too much pride to do anything else. He’d burned up that privilege of intimacy eons ago, because Lucifer himself
had made it worthless, but Leviathan knew Luci would’ve welcomed him back after the apologies and the changed behavior, a
fresh Morningstar who Leviathan refused to touch.
The Devil didn’t understand. He thought Leviathan still held a grudge, and the prince allowed that, holding it up as a shield,
because the truth was worse. Leviathan had loved the son of the morning so much, so utterly, when he was a sadistic, broken
bastard—how much more of his heart would be lost if he dared to love Lucifer as he was now, this angel who kept his promises,
who had become better in the pit he was supposed to rot in? No, Leviathan had chosen not to throw himself into such unpredictable flames. Burning
once had been more than enough, and while he truly had never cared about Luci’s other lovers, none of them had been this copper-haired,
freckled false human with an unseemly glut of power who was standing in the princes’ parlor and looking up at Lucifer with
doe eyes, like he was going to save her.
Leviathan had polished his blade and let the anger simmering in him leap out each time he snapped at the girl. He wanted Galilee
to feel like a human, even if she wasn’t one; he wanted her to not matter, to step away from Luci, to die and leave them all with
what had taken them immeasurable time to build, this little faction of theirs that Leviathan cherished, even the assholes
like Mephis. Faintly, in the back of his head, Leviathan wondered what would have happened if he’d met Galilee before Lucifer
did. He would’ve known she wasn’t human, of course, the singed tobacco reek of her power would’ve made sure of that, but she
might not have had to die.
She was beautiful because of her power, but her flesh wasn’t unwelcome—the curves that had slid under Luci’s tunic, the softness of her lips.
Leviathan had taken his own share of lovers over the lifetimes, and he could admit to himself, albeit reluctantly, that the girl would’ve been a pleasure to touch.
When he’d barged into Lucifer’s room earlier, there had been a second before Luci whipped out his wings, and that second was all Leviathan needed for a look.
Galilee had been naked in bed, sitting up on her elbows with her hair mussed, all freckled and fucked out with a swollen mouth.
Somehow, she seemed more naked in the parlor wearing Luci’s clothes than she had upstairs, shocked and staring at Leviathan.
He could easily bring to mind her dark honey nipples and the fullness of her breasts, but Leviathan pushed that errant lust out of his head, replacing it with the certainty of her death.
This was what it meant to serve the Morningstar: an unflinching loyalty and a clarity of purpose, even when Luci’s eyes were obscured by a pretty face who could burn him alive.
After Lucifer left to go meet the Kincaids, the other princes immediately fell into a heated discussion about the hellgate
and the angelic residue, some of them gathering their weapons to provide backup for Astaroth as he hunted whatever had escaped
from Hell. Leviathan returned to his gloomy corner of the parlor and Belial followed him, her tattooed snakes writhing and
her eyes disapproving.
“I’m not a fan of how you looked at the girl,” she said bluntly, leaning against the wall.
“I thought I did murderous rather well,” he replied, even though her words raised an unwelcome alarm. She shouldn’t have noticed
anything.
Belial didn’t blink. “You’ve changed your attitude toward her, Levi. A day ago, you were cold and indifferent. You would’ve
snapped her neck and been on your way before her body even hit the ground.”
“Oh?”
One of the irritating things about Lucifer shifting the dynamic of the princes was that the intimacy was contagious now that
it was safe. Leviathan fought to keep his lip from curling with disgust. Belial leaned in slightly.
“You hate her now, Levi. That’s not the same thing as indifference. That’s not cold.” Behind her accusations, her eyes were worried.
“You’re heating up, and you don’t heat up. Not you. Not for some bitch Luci’s fucking.”
Leviathan knew for sure that he hadn’t flinched at the last words, but Belial’s face lit up with revelation just from hearing
herself say the words out loud.
“Sweet Hell, Levi, is that it?” She cocked her head to one side and frowned. “I thought you were over him,” she said, more gently.
An unreasonable surge of rage rose up in Leviathan and he shoved it back down, his jaw grinding. “I have nothing to say about
this,” he bit out, “other than the girl dies.”
Belial watched him for a few moments, then sighed. “Leviathan, Luci felt things with you, you know?”
It was a completely unexpected thing for her to say.
It was a completely unwelcome thing for her to say. They had never overtly discussed his relationship with Lucifer, but this sounded very much like Luci
had talked to Belial about it at some point. Leviathan refused to show any curiosity, any reaction in fact—certainly not the
stab of pain that went through his chest. Belial didn’t seem to care.
“I know he said he hadn’t felt anything in however long until Galilee, but that’s because he hasn’t had you in all that time. You do know that, right?”
He was absolutely not going to answer. Fuck this. Fuck Belial, and fuck Lucifer for ever telling her whatever he’d told her, whatever lies of what Leviathan had meant to him. They weren’t worth the strips of curling skin lying betrayed on the floor.
“The girl dies” was all he could manage to say out loud.
Belial loosened up and scoffed, letting the fraught moment slip past. “I got no problem with that. I’m just saying, after
you kill his new lover, maybe you should think about fucking your man again, that’s all.”
Leviathan gave her an incredulous stare, and Belial laughed out loud.
“He’s always been yours, Levi. Waiting around for whenever you’re ready to take him back.”
“He—” Leviathan’s voice snagged in his throat.
Belial’s laughter faded. “I know what he did.”
He found his voice at that and filled it with contempt. “You think I should forgive him?”
“Fuck no!” Belial looked disgusted at the thought. “But someone’s gotta say this, Levi. Luci fucked you over and you didn’t
do shit about it.”
Frustration boiled up in Leviathan. She was talking as if he’d made conscious choices about how to treat Lucifer in the wake
of things, but Leviathan had simply been surviving the blow his lover had dealt him. It wasn’t as if he could find justice—a
laughable concept, considering that they belonged to and in Hell. Some would say they deserved anything and everything that
happened to them in there.
“What would you have me do?” he bit out.
Belial leaned in, her eyes sharp with amusement. “Isn’t it obvious?” she whispered. “You do what we were made to do, what should be done in Hell.”
Her smile glinted unpleasantly.
“You punish him.”