40. The Stranger
Chapter Forty
The Stranger
I spent two weeks keeping my distance from her as she coped with Rafe.
During that time, I quietly monitored her and strengthened the wards on her house and the dome that surrounds the school.
Lucifer is not an adversary anyone takes lightly.
He is just one more enemy who’d delight in taking her from me.
There are so many threats against her, but he would use her to strike at her adopted brother.
Even with the looming threat of war between Eden and Hell, it is only one of the many apocalyptic events that could take place at any moment across the realms. There is more going on in the world than just their conflict, and Lucifer has his fingers on the pulse of each of them.
He is cunning and willing to do things that his counterpart, Michael, is not.
He interferes with other realms, moving his allies like pawns on a chessboard and not hesitating to make enemies.
If the war begins, I am not sure which side will emerge victorious.
And now, that malicious being has its sights set on her.
How does the list of chains between us keep growing?
Despite meticulously crossing off those who would take her from me, another has been added, and this chain will not be as easily dealt with as the others.
How many lives have I taken in the last year just to get a little closer?
How many more will fall by my hand with Lucifer now in the picture?
What does it matter? They will all fall to me in the end.
There is no end for us that isn’t our bones and ash mixed as one. She is my beginning and end, as I am hers, first and last breath .
Right now, I need to deal with her recklessly trying to go to the one place she should be avoiding at all costs.
Grabbing her arm, I spin her into me hard, watching in satisfaction as those dark, angelic wings of death vanish.
So fucking reckless, as if she could so easily pass as an angel of death?
At the end of the day, her guardian angel of death was still a boy, unaware of this new world he’d been thrust into.
How would he know that angels of death are more conspicuous than any other creature that calls Hell home? If I hadn’t been watching?.?.?. fool.
I drop my avatar to reveal my new glamour.
I’ve created and perfected many of them over the years.
It is one of my skills that will aid her in this foolish mission.
In this demon form, I have long silver hair that reaches my waist, dark eyes, and I am a few inches shorter.
My height makes me stand out in most crowds, and as an assassin, it is usually best not to be noticed.
The glamour I form for her will not be as seamless as mine, but it will still be quite well-crafted.
Absently, I cut my thumb and draw a rune on her shoulder, keeping her internal clock on this realm’s time.
If she accidentally adjusted to Hell’s clock, it would be a brutal shift back with the massive, accelerated time change.
I push my will into it and watch as it takes effect.
It ripples over her skin, fitting itself to her form and adjusting her appearance until it perfects itself.
I can’t bear to change her features too drastically.
I am a selfish and greedy creature who wants as close to the real thing as I can get, but I do change her eyes to obsidian and hair to black, with bloodred horns emerging from the ebony strands.
Her outfit is what most female demons prefer.
The slick leather strap wrapped around her chest barely covers her breasts, and the tiny, well-tailored shorts leave a lot of her beautiful skin exposed.
Focus!
Lifting her chin, I draw two more runes, one to translate her words into Infernal, and the second to conceal the first. The translation rune I invented myself, made from Daoine Sith and Infernal combined.
I have utilized runes like it in the past when I needed to stalk a target.
My fingers hum at the contact, and I can’t remember the last time I felt such soft skin. And touching Summer?—
Need to focus.
She glares at me but doesn’t move as I concentrate. “You didn’t have to make the shorts this short. ”
My eyes narrow as I finish the rune, watching as it turns iridescent on her skin and then vanishes. “It’s how they dress,” I explain with a slight shrug.
As if I’d dress her like this on purpose.
I don’t like her showing what already belongs to me.
My claws dig into my palm, cutting into it.
Having just the glamours between us is already fucking with my control.
Things are muted when I wear my avatar, and now with that veil lifted, her scent and the heat of her skin feel like an assault on my senses.
As if I weren’t already insanely possessive of her, this is only making it worse.
I failed to realize how much the avatar kept the more insane part of me in check around her.
“Can we just go?” she asks, yanking out of my hold.
I sigh and reach out, wrapping my arm around her again and pulling her back against me. “Brat. You need to stay close for this,” I say.
Do I need to have my arm around her? No, but her warmth seeping into my side is something I am not going to pass on.
I will not deny myself the softness of her curves or the sweet scent drifting off her.
She huffs and crosses her arms over her chest but doesn’t pull away.
From my height and with her defiant position, her cleavage is a tempting view.
Clenching my jaw until my teeth ache, I wave my hand toward the forever-entwined trees.
The space between the leaning trunks sparks with hellfire, and I walk us through it.
Had she sensed this portal to Hell? Annwn is the nexus of such stray locations.
This must be the same gate that Lucifer has been using to come and go as he pleases.
Unfortunately, permanent portals like this cannot be moved.
Even as I parade her through his realm like I don’t have a care in the world, I know I’ll need to figure out a way to keep the King of Hell out of Annwn and away from my little fae.
She tries to wiggle out of my hold and put distance between us.
“Stay close,” I hiss, keeping my arm around her waist, my hold on her hip possessive as we move through the craggy, desolate landscape outside the capital city of Pandemonium.
This territory belongs to the hellbeasts.
They roam free here among the howling winds, devouring lost souls and careless demons who wander too far from the city.
“I’d rather be demon chow,” she hisses back, pushing at my hand.
“Don’t tempt me,” I growl, yanking her tighter to my side.
She grumbles under her breath and looks away but doesn’t try to get out of my grip again.
It’s a minor miracle, and I count myself lucky.
We are getting closer to the outskirts of the city, but we are in no less danger.
Perhaps she’s finally sensing the deadly predators that surround us on all sides.
They hide in the shadows, hoping for us to stray from the path and become fair game, and they are not just demons. Many dangerous species call Hell home.
The buildings are cut from the rocky landscape, growing more modern as the dirt paths give way to cobbled streets that lead toward the center of Pandemonium.
“We need to be cautious. The brimstone you want for Rafe will be the refined kind. It is sold in the center of the marketplace, and more than anything, we need to be careful not to cause a scene and draw Lucifer’s attention,” I whisper to her as we start to pass other demons.
Our presence here is pushing all boundaries.
Lucifer exerts absolute dominion over his domain.
Hordes of demons call this realm home, and we can only hope two more will simply go unnoticed by both him and his son, Lilithim.
It is probably a foolish hope, but if I hadn’t agreed to escort her here, she would have come alone and been caught for sure.
“Why is it necessary for me to be pressed up against you?” she asks sharply.
I should have known she wouldn’t be compliant for long.
“Because it needs to look like you’re mine.”
She is mine. She just hasn’t accepted it yet.
“Why?” she growls.
Such a fucking brat. Why is it so intoxicating?
Leaning closer, I whisper, “You need to look like you belong.” I punctuate the statement with a nip to her ear, mourning that the pointed tip is gone in this form. She bites her lip in response, her dark eyes locked on me. “Now, act like it.”
She turns toward me, no doubt to yell at me about my high-handedness, but stops when I guide her into the heart of the city.
Twelve towering buildings surround the market, forming a near-perfect circle filled with a warren of stalls.
Her head swivels as she tries to take it all in, and I dig my fingers into her hip.
I know I am leaving bruises, but I need her to remember to play her part.
She hisses, but the bit of pain seems to have the desired effect, and she pulls herself back to our task.
I lead her past the stalls at a controlled pace, browsing the wares idly.
Under the guise of whispering filthy, naughty things in her ear, I translate the signs for the various spices, goods, body parts, and brimstone variations for her.
Eventually she leans into the ruse, sliding her hand into the back pocket of my leather trousers, keeping me close.
I drag my thumb under the edge of the leather shorts she’s wearing, snapping the edge of the thong against her hip.
She lets out a moan of surprise. “Dick.”
“Stop moaning, then,” I say, snapping it harder.
I pause at the largest stall to look at the display barrels filled with brimstone. It has been milled into a fine black powder, each with a different flavor. Some contain flecks of color within the black, hinting at what had been added and how they might taste.
“They come in bricks, and they will need to be ground. There are a variety of flavors, so you will need to choose, depending on his diet,” I whisper, running my lips along the shell of her ear.
Many are flavored to taste of mortal flesh, including infants to the elderly, as both are considered delicacies. But I know they are avoiding that for Rafe. I may have been out of contact, but I’ve still kept an eye on her.
I lean in to whisper another translation into her ear, but she leans back in my hold and says with saccharine sweetness, “Take your hand off my hip before I cut it off.”
The sweetness takes me off guard, even more than the sharp smile she’s wearing.
“You need to play the role,” I remind her.
She reaches back and grabs my cock, her grip hard through my pants. “Oh, I will.”
My breath leaves me in a rush of shock and arousal. It doesn’t help that I’ve been hard since I yelled at her in the forest.
Speaking a little louder for the audience we’re drawing, I bare my teeth in a feral grin and say, “Please, baby , wait till I can take you up on that.” The nickname comes out with all the sweetness of barbed wire.
She squeezes me hard, forcing a moan from my throat before smirking evilly and storming away from me.