Chapter Twenty
“And these maps, they change? They find things for you?” Sitri asked.
I hummed a confirmation. “The phone talks to the satellites, the big machines in the sky. Ask it to take you where you want to go, anywhere on Earth, and it tells you how to get there.”
“Such a thing would be called witchcraft in my time. I have heard tales of electricity, but computers and smartphones… those are something new. Apollo is the youngest among my inner circle, and even he hasn’t spoken of such things.”
I opened my eyes, looking up at the white lace canopy overhead, trying to ignore the numbness creeping along my arm. This conversation was a thinly veiled distraction; an attempt to focus my mind on anything other than my impending transformation, and it was failing. Miserably.
At least Sitri had been right—the chambers were more welcoming in the light.
Together, we had cleaned up the dust and lit the place with candles.
So many of them burned, they warmed the room and filled the air with perfume-scented smoke.
We’d both bathed, at least to the extent that such a thing was possible in Hell, and I’d changed into the silken robe he’d offered me.
As for the Prince, he wore form-fitting leather pants, but no armor or shirt, leaving his battle-hardened body on display. Along with it, he bared the ruby sigil he would impart on me.
His exhibition made me all too aware of Vapula’s verdant mark, still burned into my arm.
The pain it caused lasted only a few hours, but knowing what it meant brought discomfort all its own.
Soon I’d be rid of it for good. Vapula would lose his claim over me, and Sitri would stake his.
A shiver ran through me at the thought. I couldn’t tell whether dread or anticipation fueled it.
“It’s almost time, Lillia. Are you ready?” Sitri’s soft, raspy voice broke a silence I hadn’t noticed setting in.
I sat up, my robe shifting around my shoulders, a hint of embarrassment gnawing at me when it slipped below the crease of my breast. Sitri wasn’t looking at my breasts, though. His eyes settled between them, narrowing as he studied the knife wound Mara had dealt me.
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I don’t think I’ll ever be ready. Will it… will it hurt?”
The Prince’s gaze drifted upward, his face softening. “It will. You must bear the proper glyphs for me to preserve your form, and no paint will do the trick. The markings need to run deeper than your skin.”
My chest tightened. “You’re going to cut me, then?”
Setting down the incense-like sticks he’d been sorting through, Sitri sauntered to my side and took a seat on the edge of the bed.
He held his arm out. It was an offer of comfort I readily accepted, shuffling up to him and pressing into the curve of his body.
He wrapped himself around me. I allowed my eyelids to drift shut.
“No cuts,” he said. “Those are scars you would feel for an eternity. Just some light burns, and they will heal overnight. This will be over quickly, so long as you keep still. Can you manage that for me, darling?”
“I think so,” I said.
I opened my eyes. They met Sitri’s. I’d told another lie, one he recognized, judging by his somber expression.
“When I dreamed of this day, I hadn’t expected it to be so bittersweet.” The Prince brushed a stray strand of hair from my face and planted a kiss on my forehead.
“I didn’t expect it to come at all,” I admitted.
Part of me still didn’t want it to. That part now had to compete with Sitri, his gentle seduction, and electric touch. That was a losing battle. His warmth against me, his protection and tender intimacy—this was what I fought for, why I was trusting him.
Connection, freedom.
Unity.
Sitri released me. Once I’d sat upright, he stood and started across the candlelit room. “Why don’t you go ahead and disrobe? Lay face down. Your back will be my canvas.”
Bowing my head, I did as he asked. I untied the sash securing my robe, swallowing my nausea as pitch-black bones worked the fabric.
I shrugged it off. Even with so many candles burning, goosebumps gathered on my skin.
The room’s lukewarm air made me all too aware of my warming cheeks.
I eased myself down onto the velvet bedspread.
Its coarse, dense fibers teased my hips, caressed my breasts, elicited a shiver.
“And once it’s done?” I asked.
Glass clanked behind me as Sitri collected his supplies. “We must give you time to heal your wounds and settle your soul. The change won’t be dramatic, but you will still feel it, darling.”
“Right.”
I swallowed. This was it; I was really going to do this.
My heart beat hard and fast, spurred by the memory of Vapula’s bindings burning themselves into me, the fear and pain they brought.
One glance at my ghostly hand constrained those anxieties.
Most of my fingers had already faded. There were worse things in Hell than fire, and if I wanted to back out, I’d be offering myself up to them.
The Prince took his place on the bed behind me.
He shuffled over my legs, pinning me with his weight.
I shifted beneath him, testing the limits of his restraint.
He held me so tight I could barely move an inch.
The pop of a cork told me Sitri had opened something, and from it came a sweet, floral perfume.
“A ritual oil,” he murmured before I could ask the question. “It will dull the burning and help you relax. For now, just enjoy it. I will tell you before the pain comes.”
“Okay,” I breathed. “I’ll try.”
When Sitri touched my back, I jumped. As promised, his hands brought no pain.
Only warmth. I allowed my muscles to slacken as he worked the oil into my skin.
It flooded the air with its pleasant aroma, reminiscent of roses, vanilla, and something like maple syrup.
A low, satisfied groan escaped my lips. The Prince chuckled as he watched me come undone.
Diligently, he spread the fragrant oil over my back, my shoulders, along my waist, and towards the curves of my hips.
Everywhere it touched, my skin began tingling.
It wasn’t as unpleasant as I’d expected.
I almost found myself enjoying it, reveling in my closeness to the Prince, letting him lull me, hypnotize me.
And then came a hiss, followed by the scent of smoke. It rose above the sweet odors that bathed me, pulling me from the gentle moment, serving as a reminder of what I was here for—not to enjoy his tenderness, but to surrender my soul all over again.
“This will be the hard part. I promise to be quick,” Sitri said. “Are you quite certain you want this?”
“I’m sure,” I murmured, taking a fistful of blankets and holding on for dear life. “Do it, Sitri. I’m ready.”
“Be still, then, darling,” he whispered.
He sounded as if entranced. The heat grew stronger with every passing moment until I noticed nothing else. I tightened my hold on the comforter, my hands trembling.
At last, the flame touched my skin and set my nerves alight.
White-hot pain lanced through me as fire met my shoulder.
My muscles locked. My teeth clenched tight, and a guttural growl escaped my throat.
Sitri drew a sharp breath behind me. He hesitated, stalling for only a moment before drawing the burn across my back.
It radiated through me, searing the markings into me, burning my body as surely as it would scorch the humanity from my soul.
Sweat beaded on my skin, stinging in my wounds, seizing the air in my lungs.
It was all too much.
Just when I thought I could no longer contain my scream, the heat dissipated. Even with the fire gone, my back throbbed from the echoes of its intensity. I gasped for breath, flinched as something brushed my arm, then sighed in relief. Sitri’s caress meant me no harm. I went lax with a whimper.
“Breathe,” he whispered, stroking my shoulder. “Are you alright, darling? I won’t start again until you’ve calmed.”
“I… I’m okay. I think.”
The words proved difficult to form—not because of the pain throbbing on my back, but because of the rush that seized me in its wake.
My head spun, dizzy and distant, though I was still present in my body, still grounded by Sitri’s touch.
Fog crept into my mind. It carried weightlessness and warmth, like a high without drugs.
I loosened my hands, feeling them shift as if they weren’t my own, marveling at the strangeness of it.
I hadn’t expected the sensation. I couldn’t explain it, but right now, I didn’t need to. It lulled me into a safe, peaceful dissociation, separating me from my fear and pain. My eyes drifted closed, and I gave myself over to it without a second thought.
“What an interesting reaction,” Sitri said. “Do you mind if I explore it further?”
I shook my head, granting the Prince permission. One of his well-oiled hands slid down my backside. I arched into his touch, as much as his weight atop me would allow, and his fingers slipped between my thighs. There, they found moisture. Heat rose on my cheeks. Sitri gave a low hum.
The Prince’s free hand left my arm. His fingertips traced over the burns he’d inflicted.
Every brush against them sent aching twinges straight to my core.
I gasped. The pain cut right through my daze, igniting a different kind of burning seated deep between my hips.
Sitri’s muscles flexed against me. He laughed.
“You really are full of surprises, aren’t you, darling?”
My eyes opened. If Sitri was surprised, then this was something new, unusual—something I couldn’t quite understand with my mind muddled and my heart still pounding.
“Are you ready to start again?” he asked.
“M-hm, I’m ready.”
And I was—even as the uncomfortable heat returned. Sitri wouldn’t harm me, not in any way I couldn’t handle. Knowing that was enough for me to surrender to the moment, accept this sacred ritual, and embrace the coming pain.
Fire laced with magic tore through my body, casting all that I was into righteous hellfire. It smoldered on my skin, burned across my back until I couldn’t tell where the flames ended and I began. It should have hurt, but it didn’t. Not in the way I’d expected.
This was a new feeling, something not quite pleasure or pain, more intense than anything I’d ever experienced before.
Sitri’s guiding hand met my arm, tethering me in the raging sea of sensations. It crept downwards, finding the seal that marked me. Blissful agony spread from his fingers, deep into muscle and bone, into Vapula’s bindings.
I trembled, my muscles tensed until they threatened to tear me apart.
Sinew stood from my skin, taut and tortured, and I knew it was my voice screaming out for salvation.
I didn’t choose to speak—the sound came on its own.
Demonic magic rushed into me, burned through my veins, tore Vapula’s influence from my soul.
It was vicious. Possessive. Hungry. The pain was a reminder that I existed. I clung to it for all it was worth.
Crimson light flared on my back, painting the shadow of my agonized form on the headboard as Sitri laid claim to all I was. His power poured into my very being, changing me. Transforming me.
And oh, how terrible, how wonderful it was, like electric currents coursing through me, resonating with my essence.
Smoke, sweet oil, and my own burned flesh mingled in the air.
Though it was but a moment, I swam in it for an eternity, nothing more than a fly caught in the web of the Prince’s magic, all too eager to be envenomed and devoured.
As suddenly as it started, it was over.
The light faded. Sitri’s hold on me relented. I collapsed onto the bed, chest heaving, body aching, bathed in sweat and candlelight.
“All done, Lillia. No more pain, I promise. Now, tell me—how do you feel?”
“Fuzzy,” I murmured, my voice hoarse. “And dizzy. And… warm. Really, really warm.”
The Prince chuckled. His fingers played over my shoulders, down my sides, raising goosebumps in their wake. His touch was so intense, yet so faint. Everything spun. My heartbeat in my ears drowned out my labored breathing. All my senses felt fractured, like I was looking through a broken window.
But Sitri was here, his presence a promise of safety, and his weight made me feel secure.
When he shifted to release me, a pang of panic shot through my chest.
“Don’t go,” I whispered.
Sitri froze. A moment of silence hung between us.
“I must put these tools away, but I swear I will return. Stay here, darling. I shall be right back.”
He stood, and cold air closed in. A thin blanket fell over my back, teasing my fresh wounds.
Then came the clanking of glass and the thud of heavy wooden drawers.
True to his word, Sitri returned to my side and cradled me in his arms. I shuddered as he caressed my burns.
Though my own embrace was weak, I tried to return the gesture.
I wanted to be closer to him, to the steady rise and fall of his chest, the slow hammering of his heart.
I needed him physically inside me; I ached for him to take my body, not just claim my soul.
But his pants remained a barrier between us, and I wasn’t ready to voice that need.
Not yet. I settled for pressing every inch of myself against him, savoring his tautness.
“My Prince,” I murmured.
The words came to me as naturally as I breathed. Sitri’s lips landed against my temple, a gentle kiss to soothe my mind and soul.
“Yours, darling,” he whispered in my ear, “and now you are mine as well. Rest, recover. Tomorrow, your new afterlife begins.”
At last, I had someone to call my own, a place to call home. That idea brought me comfort I had never known. There, in his arms, I was safe. Things were going to be okay.
I pressed my face into Sitri’s chest, drinking him in, letting my senses fade until all that remained was his faint aroma and his warmth. For just a few hours, I would abandon the world. When I returned, Sitri would be waiting for me, and we would meet the future together.