Chapter 11
ASMODEUS
Naamah and Sharezen convinced me to let them use my Lethe manor as the staging ground for this year’s Halloween orgy, and I only said yes because I’m fucking starving.
It’s been too long since I bedded a willing demon or demoness and fed on their desire.
Even before I laid my eyes on my little fairy, there had been little interest in going through the motions.
The archdemon of lust, celibate? The end of the universe must be near. Being perpetually hard around Simone is the only thing keeping me from worrying about erectile dysfunction at my young age. I’m barely older than the pyramids, after all.
So I’m leaning against the wall in the corner, enjoying a nice glass of Chateau Petrus, feeding on the lust winding through the air like decadent perfume.
“Uncle,” Sariel, my brother’s adopted son, greets me. His friend and constant shadow, Armaros, is just a step behind him, inclining his head deferentially.
“Hello, youngling,” I reply with genuine warmth. I’ve always appreciated the irreverent Fallen. “Is your father not coming tonight?”
If Ashtaroth were here, I would have sensed it.
I might be a modest dozen millennia old, but my brother is older than humanity.
Not that he truly is my brother—God created Ashtaroth in the Heavens, and I was born of Lilith and Samael here in Hell.
But those two are arguably worse parents than I am, and I haven’t heard from either in countless centuries.
It was my brother who helped me find my footing as one of Hell’s leaders.
Sariel scoffs, taking a leisurely sip of wine before he answers me. “Of course not. Father is far too dull these days. You should try to get him to loosen up a bit,” he suggests.
I raise my eyebrows and give him a droll look. “I’m not sure even I could get Ashtaroth to find amusement in anything. He’s seen and done it all.”
I don’t bother mentioning that I’m feeling like I might have as well.
The only thing making my useless heart quicken is knowing I can visit my fairy whenever I want and battle wits with her.
Or battle wits with her while battling her at cards.
Which is what I’d rather be doing. But I also have to feed.
“You’re not participating today, Lord Asmodeus?” Armaros asks, his blonde hair gilded under the candlelight.
I shake my head. “Not tonight, no. I have a matter to attend to in a moment.”
Armaros nods like my explanation is perfectly normal, when in truth, I was always the centerpiece at such events. The pleasure coordinator, so to speak.
“Well, you should come visit soon,” Sariel says, giving me a wink. “Help me keep Ash on his toes.”
I laugh at the nickname only Sariel is brave enough to use for the ancient archdemon.
“Might be a hopeless cause, Nephew,” I tell him. “But I’ll visit.”
After a few more words, the two Fallen move deeper into the manor, where the screams of pleasure are the loudest. I watch dispassionately as two well-endowed demons skewer a wiggling succubus between them. Sure, the tableau gives me sustenance. But it’s not what I want. Not anymore.
When I close my eyes, I only see long, chocolate brown hair, a slim waist and delicate curves, an elegantly arched neck and perfectly pink lips.
After all this time, my fascination with the mortal hasn’t lessened. Though she knows nothing about my true nature. She doesn’t know I’m an archdemon who feeds on lust, who fathered more sex demons than he can count, who used to toy with mortals until they expired from pleasure.
At first, I obfuscated my identity because I wanted her to be more at ease—Fallen are something she is familiar with.
To her, demons are the enemy, and archdemons are the worst kind of evil.
Now… Now I don’t know how to reveal the truth.
Our peace is tenuous, and we still argue more frequently than I’d like.
While her anger might lead to fantastic sex in normal circumstances, I sense that Simone is like a bird with broken wings. They’ll need to heal before she can fly. And maybe it’s time I work on that.
Determined, I gather the ether and travel to our cave.
I find Simone reading in bed, propped up by a small mountain of pillows.
When she turns in my direction, there’s a momentary softening in her gray eyes, before she schools her expression again.
I’d like to think there are moments when she considers me a friend.
Before she remembers that I’m keeping her trapped.
I press my palm against my chest. The tightening there feels suspiciously like guilt.
“Good evening, little fairy,” I murmur as I make my way closer.
She doesn’t flinch from my nearness anymore.
Instead, she takes me in, gaze traversing my face, my body, and I know for a fact they’re both immensely pleasing.
The vanilla undertones in her scent become stronger—a smell I’ve learned to associate with her arousal, unwilling as it may be.
When I sit down next to her, her lips part, a small gust of air leaving them.
She clears her throat. “Is it evening? I wouldn’t know.”
Whatever it is in my chest seems to expand. What’s wrong with me? It urges me to get closer, like her touch could ease it and help me breathe normally again. Fuck, I don’t even need to breathe.
“It is. Did you enjoy the dinner I sent over tonight?”
Rather than answer me, she wrinkles her little button nose. “You smell like…”
“Oh. Yes. Sex and debauchery. There is a Halloween orgy going on at one of my homes,” I explain.
Simone’s eyes widen, her heart beating faster, her throat bobbing as she swallows.
“You were at an… an orgy?” she asks haltingly.
“I was,” I say simply, moving just an inch closer. “And now I’m here.”
Book forgotten, she turns her body toward me, and I mirror the pose.
“Did you…”
I pick up where she trails off. “Fuck anyone? No. I did not.”
Simone blinks at me. “Why?”
I take a deep breath, then let it out slowly. That’s a very good question. And my answer might change our relationship forever. This is all uncharted ground for me. I have never held an interest in a single person this long, not in thousands of years.
“Because of you,” I say in the end. “Because everything pales in comparison. Because the most sensual acts cannot compare to the rush I get from watching you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.”
“Az,” Simone breathes, her gray eyes wide with surprise. “I… I don’t think I can give you what you want. All my life, I’ve been some man’s pretty toy, trapped, used. I don’t think I can find pleasure in… in being intimate anymore.”
Her halting words make me feel like I have a pit in my stomach.
Yes, I’m furious at her mistreatment. I’ll send my best spymasters into the human world, find the offenders, and make them suffer eternal pain for harming what’s mine.
But I’m also feeling pain for her, and these feelings are completely new to me.
At the same time, the scent of her arousal deepens. She’s thinking about it, imagining how it would feel to be with me in that way. The knowledge stirs me, bringing my cock to life.
“What if I can change your mind?” I offer slowly. “What if you could find pleasure in being bound?”
“P-pleasure in being bound?” she stutters. “What do you mean?”
I purse my lips, then summon ropes through the ether. Beautiful, silky white shibari ropes made for sensual restraint without pain.
“What do you know about bondage?” I ask her straightforwardly.
Simone sputters, leaning up on one elbow. “Bondage? Tu parles du BDSM?”
“Yes,” I confirm. “I’m talking about BDSM. The art of shibari, to be specific.”
I run my hand over the ropes, winding them around my fingers and testing their give—there is none.
“What if I could trap you more than you’ve ever been, while simultaneously bringing you more pleasure than you’ve ever felt?”
“C’est dingue!” she exclaims, her beautiful face set in lines of outrage. “How could I possibly feel pleasure while trapped when it’s the very thing that keeps me from even wanting it?”
“Trust me,” I say calmly, confidently.
“Trust you? How could I ever trust you?” She shakes her head, a frightened gleam in her eyes. “You could tie me up and hurt me in unimaginable ways.”
I frown at her. “All these months you’ve been at my mercy, and I haven’t hurt you once. Do you think I need to tie you up to do so?”
“No,” she admits after a few seconds of hesitation. “I guess not.”
I lean closer until I feel her warm breath on my face. “Let me show you, little fairy. Tonight will be all about reintroducing you to pleasure and feeling safe.”
Her silence is deafening, the stream the only sound around us.
Her scent grows stronger, and I know she’s considering it, but a wounded bird is unpredictable.
Minutes pass, and I lose hope that she will even reply.
When she finally speaks, I realize I didn’t expect her to actually entertain the idea, another fight being more likely instead.
“Fine,” she breathes, the word so shaky it’s barely recognizable. But there’s a resolve on her face. It’s incredibly powerful. “Do it. Tie me up. Show me.”