Chapter 21

CHAPTER 21

Zoe

O ver the next couple of days, I trained several times with Lucifer, honing my skills and becoming more and more secure in how to wield my power. As before, we usually went outside to practice far from any structures or other demons. That way, I could use my energy to its full potential without risking damage to people or property.

I could now confidently aim a nearly nuclear blast of my power at a specific target, and if it had been anyone other than Lucifer standing in the way of my strike, they’d have likely been pulverized, depending on their own inherent power level. According to Lucifer, an archdemon could take a full-on blow from me as well, since that was where my strength was on the hierarchy, courtesy of Azazel.

Anyone below that would be toast.

Before, right after I’d bonded with Azazel, my power level had been roughly that of a seraph, but apparently more of Azazel’s archdemon strength had flowed into me over time, with the connection between us settling.

To think that I would likely be able to go up against an archdemon was mind-boggling to me. I couldn’t fathom that, had seen myself as weak and struggling for too long. It would take time for me to fully accept my new strength.

Training with Lucifer helped. He was relentless in how he pushed me—just as he’d promised, he didn’t coddle me. I regularly cursed him under my breath for his draconian training style, but I could see the effectiveness of it in the speed with which I made progress. And while I often felt drained and exhausted after a session, I did appreciate the improved control over my power he was whipping into me.

Several times, though, when I’d come by his room so we could go outside and train, I’d found Lucifer asleep, much like those previous two instances. I’d waited for him to wake, then, which he did, eventually.

But it was definitely strange how much he slept. Was it a physical need, after all? A sign of him weakening?

With growing trepidation, I remembered the talk Azazel and I had had a while ago about how Lucifer had let his grasp on his power slip more and more, and I was starting to wonder if there was indeed a physical factor to it. He seemed perfectly at full strength whenever we trained, but there was the matter of him sleeping far more than was usual for a demon, especially one that was so ancient…

It bothered me so much that eventually I asked him directly.

Sitting once more on our summoned set of sofas in the middle of the training fields after the end of our session, which had become routine for us, I squinted at him. “Why do you sleep so much?”

He swung his gaze from where he’d stared unseeing at the horizon to me, flecks of ash getting caught on the onyx of his hair. “What do you mean?”

“Well…” I gestured with my tea mug in an encompassing circle. “More often than not, I find you asleep on that couch in your room.” At his raised brow, I added, “Hey, it’s not like I’m pulling an Edward and stare at you while you snooze. I always thought that was stalkerish and creepy, you know? Like, dude, get a hobby that doesn’t overlap with beginning necrophilia.”

Lucifer sighed. “Is there a point to your rambling?”

“Yes, actually.” I raised my index finger. “It’s just that you seem to sleep a lot for a demon your age. And I don’t mean to be ageist or anything, but from what I’ve heard, your kind”—I scrunched up my nose—“I mean, my kind, I guess, well, we don’t need that much sleep, especially the older we get, right? So, I was just wondering what’s up.”

He looked toward the horizon again, the flash of lightning setting his features in stark relief. When he remained silent, I thought he’d decided to ignore my question, and I was about to apologize for being a Nosy Nancy when he quietly said, “I see her when I close my eyes.”

My mouth opened in a silent O. A ping of sympathy clenched my chest.

“It’s the only time I see her,” he went on, gaze still fixed on some faraway point, his voice rough. “In my dreams, she’s there, alive and well. Everything is as it was. I can speak to her, touch her, hear her. Her voice and laughter used to light up my soul, but if it weren’t for the visions of her in my dreams, I might have already forgotten what she sounded like. The paintings I have of her don’t do her justice. They lack her spark, her glow, and they’ll never show the grace with which she moved, the way she’d tilt her head when she focused on a task. A thousand tiny pieces of her that only my memory preserves, that I can only access when I sink into sleep.”

I stared at him, speechless, visceral understanding of his grief constricting my throat, squeezing my heart.

Vividly, I remembered those desperate moments after I’d first come to Hell, when Azazel had still acted like a jerk and hadn’t allowed me to visit Earth yet, and I’d faced the prospect of spending eternity slowly forgetting all those I’d held dear. Because while my phone had been filled with precious photos and videos of my mom and my friends, the battery had run low, and I hadn’t yet known whether I’d be able to charge it so I could keep my memory fresh by looking at the pics and videos.

A thought struck me then, and I sat up straighter, turning it over in my head.

“I need to go,” I muttered and then jumped up from the sofa, Vengeance scampering after me, leaving a likely perplexed Lucifer behind.

For a second, it occurred to me that ditching the Devil without being dismissed first would have dire consequences for anyone else…while I’d somehow achieved a level of casualness with him that meant I’d get away with stuff like this. I shook my head, unable to process that, and hurried on.

In the palace, I flagged down a demon I’d come to know was reliable in delivering messages, and I quickly scribbled a note on a summoned piece of paper and handed it to him. “Straight to His Highness, please.”

“Yes, my lady.” The demon bowed deeply and took off.

Worrying my lip, I made my way to Lucifer’s personal library, the one where I’d once paid the rest of my penance for breaking the vow of silence about Naamah. Thankfully, it had survived Lucifer’s outbursts of rage after Lilith’s death mostly unscathed, with only a few of the shelves having taken damage. The majority of the books and parchments were intact, and I’d taken to spending my free time here in between Azazel’s visits and training with Lucifer.

Hours later, my beloved demon found me curled up in a chair with a book about Sumerian legends in my lap, my feet propped up on Vengeance’s back, who snored blissfully in front of me.

I looked up as Azazel approached, a huge smile taking over my face. Within me, his joy at seeing me reverberated, echoed by my own.

We hadn’t seen each other in days, since before the attack on me and Vengeance’s near execution, due to Azazel’s busy schedule as archdemon. He’d had an important meeting with the other archdemons, and right after that, several pressing matters had kept him in his territory, much to both our chagrin.

We’d communicated via brief letters—taking care not to mention anything that would cause problems should the mail be intercepted by someone—and he’d promised to come by today. The note I’d sent him earlier had been in anticipation of that.

Stepping past Vengeance, he put his hands on the armrests on either side of me, leaned down, and caught my lips in a kiss that burned all the way down to my soul.

“Your Highness,” I whispered with a grin, using the proper way he’d be referred to as an archdemon by anyone other than his direct peers. It was the same title the archangels claimed.

He gave a soft snort, amusement dancing in his stormy eyes. “If you ever address me as such in front of others, I’ll have to spank you later.”

I feigned a gasp. “But—but—the proper respect! The hierarchy!”

“Zoe…” Still caging me in with his hands on the chair’s armrests, he gave me a look .

“No, no, it’s a slippery slope, I’m telling you.” I pointed my finger at him and narrowed my eyes. “They will see me addressing you improperly, and they’ll ask, ‘How come Zoe gets to drop his title? If she gets to drop his title, we’ll all get to drop the title! It’ll be anarchy !’?”

He hung his head, his shoulders shaking with his silent laughter. When he finally met my gaze again, he softly said, “I live for those moments when you creatively quote the movies you love.”

I beamed at him, intensely pleased he’d recognized the spin on a scene from The Breakfast Club . “See, that’s why you’re my favorite,” I said magnanimously, playing with the collar of his shirt. “Because on you, my pop culture references aren’t lost.”

He raised a brow. “ That’s why I’m your favorite? And here I thought it was a question of size.”

“Well, you’re not wrong,” I said with a considering look.

He smirked.

“I mean, your wings sure are impressive.”

He growled and pretended to snap at me.

I evaded him with a giggle. “Did you get my phone?”

In answer, he simply summoned it with a flick of his hand.

“Neat little archdemon trick,” I murmured as I took it from him, seeing that it was fully charged. “Thank you.”

“You want to look at pictures of your mom?” he asked quietly, his empathy flowing down the bond between us.

“Yeah.” I stroked my thumb over the display, a wave of sadness washing over me at the thought of never seeing my mother again. “Among other things.”

He regarded me for a few seconds, then he simply scooped me up and sat down on the chair, settling me sideways on his lap.

“I’m sorry you didn’t get to see her one last time,” he murmured, running his fingers through my hair. “You should have had that moment with her.”

I nodded wordlessly, because I had no new words to put to the ache in my heart.

He petted me in soothing caresses, the warmth of his hand on my head and the flow of his energy over my skin like a kiss of comfort. I relaxed as I only ever did with him, all tension fleeing my body, my mind and soul sighing with the knowledge that, in his arms, I was in the safest place in all the realms.

“I cannot tell you,” he quietly said into the affectionate silence, “how much it means to me to have you back again.” The surge of deep, overwhelming emotions echoing over from him underscored his words. “I have missed everything about you. Your smile, your humor, the way your eyes sparkle when you joke, how you speak before you think?—”

“Oy,” I protested, but the word held no heat. I didn’t even bother to raise my head from where it lay tucked into the curve of his neck and shoulder.

“It’s most entertaining.” I could hear the grin in his voice. “I never know what will come out of your mouth next.” He angled his head so his nose pressed into my hair, and he inhaled deeply. “And I never knew how much I needed your quick wit and dorky humor until you were gone, and from one day to the next, my life lost all color.”

“Azazel,” I whispered, lances of pain stinging my heart.

“I had you for a year,” he continued, the bass of his voice sending delicious vibrations through me, “and back then, I’d thought I knew how lucky I’d gotten.” He shook his head slightly, his stubble catching on my hair. “I only realized the full extent of it when I lost you. To go from living a life without purpose, without love, to having it all, only for it to be snatched away again…” His arms tightened around me. “I don’t want a life without you in it.”

I raised my head then, looking at him through the blur of tears, and laid my hand on his cheek. “You have me now. And you’ll have me forever. No matter what happens, we’ll be together. And should something pull us apart, I’ll always come back to you. I’ll fight my way back if I have to.” My smile was wobbly. “I have the power and know-how to kick some serious ass now.”

One corner of his mouth tilted up, his eyes glowing. “I remember the days when you used to be a worrier, not a warrior.”

I huffed a laugh. “To be fair, the former still applies. But in addition to battling my anxiety, I have acquired a taste for some well-targeted violence.”

His expression turned appreciative. “That fierce side of you is incredibly sexy, you know.”

I uttered a soft snort.

“I mean it,” he said. “That moment in Heaven, when you killed that demon in a surge of rage-filled bloodlust and thirst for vengeance…” He hummed back in his throat, and I recognized the sound as one he often made just before he devoured me.

I squirmed on his lap, a pulse of arousal throbbing between my thighs. “You can’t be serious.”

“Deathly so.” His hand stroked up the inside of my thigh, the touch sending out tantalizing waves of sensation even through the material of my pants. “You know I never joke when it comes to blood and violence.”

His hand inched higher, and I gasped as his fingers grazed my crotch. Heat flamed out from where he cupped me, and it took me a moment to realize it wasn’t just his energy and the flare of arousal I felt—he’d burned away part of my pants. Exactly enough for his fingers to slide over my already slick flesh.

I jolted, my hands grabbing his shoulders. My body caught on before my mind did, my hips rolling, pressing me into his touch. It felt so deliciously indecent with me still wearing my pants, the material covering everything except my crotch. With a growl of approval, he grasped the nape of my neck and conquered my mouth in a bruising kiss, all while his fingers deftly worked me up into a frenzy.

Sharply building arousal pinged back and forth between us, and soon I didn’t even know how much of the need wrecking my body came from me as opposed to from him. All I knew was that I neared the peak, and I wanted to reach it with him inside me.

“Summon them off,” I muttered against his lips. “My pants.”

I had no patience or mind to wiggle out of them right now.

“As you wish.”

He withdrew his hand from between my thighs, and the next instant, the pants vanished from me and reappeared in his grasp. He unceremoniously tossed them over his shoulder, and they landed somewhere with a soft thud.

“I need you inside me,” I said as I straddled him, already opening his pants, his massive erection denting the material. “I want to come on your cock.”

His power shuddered around me, darkening with lust. Snagging my chin in one hand, he leaned forward and licked over my lips. “Then claim me,” he purred. “Take what you need.”

Laying both hands on my hips, he sat back again, ceding control to me. The thrill of it sizzled through me, so rare were the moments when he allowed me to take charge. Having opened his pants, I tugged them down, and he helped by lifting his hips.

His cock jutted up, large and thick and with a bead of precum glinting at the head. I uttered a little growl that spoke of the sensual hunger inside me, and his energy flickered in response.

“Do that again,” he murmured, raising one hand to summon my top and bra off me as well, letting both fall to the ground in the next second.

Like a good little demon, I growled once more.

“Perfect,” he said with the dirtiest grin I’d seen on him yet.

My thighs were slick with my arousal as I positioned myself, grabbing his cock and holding it just right before sinking down on him in one smooth slide. His hand spasmed on my hip, a rush of pleasure flooding me through the bond, nearly drowning out my own.

Throwing my head back, I moaned at the exquisite sensation of him filling me. My wings extended behind me without my conscious doing, and Azazel made a decidedly male sound of appreciation.

With both my palms pressed to his chest, I rode him, lifting up and gliding down on his cock, setting my own pace, my own rhythm. Taking what I wanted from him. Claiming him, knowing I was the only one allowed to do so.

His one hand covered my breast, squeezing it and toying with my nipple, while his other slid over my shoulder to graze the arch of my wing. Flashes of lust shot out from that touch, making my strokes erratic.

He grabbed my hips then, his fingers digging into my butt as he supported my moves, lifting me up and down, bucking up and grinding against me on each downward thrust. His energy wove around my breasts, licked over my nipples, sizzling and tantalizing, and that perfect peak neared once more.

I chased that promise of bliss with single-minded determination, riding him hard. And right there, the thick head of his cock pushed against that pleasurable spot inside me—my climax broke over me with devastating force.

I half screamed his name as I surrendered to the waves of pleasure pumping through my system, my wings fluttering, my energy twining with his. Not a second later, he followed me over the edge, finding his own release with powerful thrusts while he pulled me close and claimed my mouth in a possessive kiss.

As I fell against him, my wings slumping down on either side of the armchair, my nose buried in the crook of his neck, he softly bit my earlobe.

“And I most definitely missed this ,” he murmured, his deep voice as deliciously soothing as his power wrapping around me. “My own hand only got me so far these past years.”

My lashes brushed against the skin of his throat, the scent of him on every breath I took. “So you waited for me?” I asked in a near whisper, my heart aflutter in my chest.

He shifted so he could level a positively dark glare at me. “You thought I didn’t?” he snarled.

“I mean”—I swallowed hard, my pulse ramping up—“you couldn’t be sure if you’d actually get me back, and I was gone for so long, and I know you’re a carnal being?—”

His growl was so ferocious, so through-and-through primal and bestial, that Vengeance jumped up with a whine, obviously distressed by the show of force from another predator in the room.

“Zoe,” Azazel ground out, and if I hadn’t known, felt, and breathed his protective devotion to me, I’d have shrunk away from the unmitigated fury in his eyes. “You wound me.”

My stomach dropped, thickness coating my throat. “I?—”

He cupped my jaw, his gaze boring into me. “Do you think so little of my faith?”

“No,” I said in a small voice.

And before I could say anything else, something changed in his storm-lashed eyes, and a muscle ticked in his jaw. “Or is it that you think so little of yourself? That you are not worth waiting for, no matter how long it takes?”

I wanted to refute his accusation, but the words wouldn’t leave my tongue. Because I feared he’d hit too close to home.

“If our places had been reversed,” he said with surgical precision, “would you have waited for me?”

“Of course!” The truth of it pulsed within me, and I knew he’d feel it through our bond.

He gave me a knowing look. “Then why would you think I wouldn’t do the same for you?”

My face twisted with the anguish of not wanting to admit out loud that he had a point. That I should have been secure in the expectation that he’d wait for me, because it was no less than I deserved.

“My love,” he said softly, his voice now wrapping around me like velvet, “you are worth waiting a lifetime for. I made you a promise, and my word is eternal. There will never be anyone but you. No temptation will sway me, and no amount of time will chip away at my devotion to you.”

“Stop,” I whispered, my heart splitting wide open. “You’re killing me.”

“That’s not what I want to do with you,” he murmured, a spark of humor in his eyes. Leaning in, he gently kissed me, the touch of his lips the sweetest benediction. “One of these days, you’ll heal that wound inside you. You’ll see your own worth, and you’ll accept that you deserve to be loved so fiercely that no force in this world or beyond can shatter that bond.”

I blinked against the wet heat in my eyes, my throat constricting.

“I am nothing if not patient,” Azazel said, caressing my face. “And I’ll keep showing you the truth until you believe it, however long it takes.”

I exhaled roughly, some of the tears spilling over. Cupping his cheek, I brought my lips to his, pouring all the words that were stuck in my throat into the kiss, letting him feel my gratitude and unending love.