39. Chapter Thirty-Nine

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Rayven

Nothing will give you a bone-deep appreciation for life quite like dying.

Even after being surrounded by so much death in the cemeteries I robbed and admiring the beautiful souls and bones in Limbo, I’d never been more grateful to be alive.

Relief hit me in waves of exhaustion and tears, images of my ordeal haunting my thoughts as I faded in and out of sleep. Sailing the Styx in Belial’s gondola was peaceful, a glaring difference from my first trip down the river. He even let Cecil take up rowing so he could hold me while I slept, whispering delicious little promises in my ear of what he planned to do to me once back in Limbo while I danced with unconsciousness.

This time, Belial didn’t use the plum magic to enter my sleep, but I dreamt of him anyway.

All my enemies had been destroyed, their heads skewered onto Belial’s oar as a reminder of their betrayal. None of them could ever hurt me again. There was nothing left for me to fear in the entirety of Hell, save for the demon lord who owned my soul.

And as terrifying as he was, I wasn’t afraid, not when I knew the lengths he was willing to go to in order to keep me safe. He’d do anything I asked, including destroying the nine layers and adding his head to my collection if it pleased me. That kind of utter devotion was intoxicating, and it did deliciously dark things to me, knowing I belonged to such a beast.

Something told me his obsession with me would be kicked into hyperdrive when we returned to his realm. I’d be lucky if I ever escaped his watchful eye again.

A week ago, the threat of never escaping the monstrous Lord of Bones had been the biggest problem in my life. Now, it was my biggest comfort.

When I stepped off the ferry in Limbo, I wanted to fall to my knees and kiss the ground, but Belial dragged me into him and kept me upright.

“Welcome home,” he muttered into my hair.

Home.

I would have killed—again—to sleep for a week straight and binge-eat whatever snacks could be found in Hell, but Belial had other plans. He wanted to crown me immediately as a way of showing his kingdom exactly who I was. He wanted to condemn the actions of his brothers in front of all his subjects, to warn them what painful suffering awaited anyone who crossed his queen.

And who said romance was dead?

The thought of wearing a crown made of bones weighed on me, sparking a wave of unsettling feelings, but beneath them all was fear.

Not because the crown was made of my ex’s spine—Mark was hardly more than an insignificant memory in the back of my mind now—but because how in the hell was I supposed to be the queen of…well, Hell?

There was also the matter of dealing with Catherine’s soul. After Belial saved me from Belphegor’s realm, I refused to leave her behind. Her soul very well could have wandered off and hid in another object, and we could have left her there to rot for all eternity, but the thought didn’t sit right with me.

The poor woman didn’t deserve to suffer any longer. As long as I was queen, she—along with every other deserving soul in Hell—would never have to suffer again.

It had been easier than I thought to convince Belial to give Catherine a place in the Library of Souls, and as soon as I'd bathed and eaten, he started teaching me the magic of sorting souls into blank soul books.

“You’ll get it, my treasure,” he said every time I got frustrated. Demon magic wasn’t easily wielded by humans, but he promised me that if Cecil could do it, I could.

The day of my coronation, Holga dressed me in a stunning crimson ball gown dripping with blood-red jewels. She did my hair and makeup the way she had for the masquerade ball, and I swallowed down any hint of PTSD.

I didn’t have to be afraid.

All of Belial’s subjects were coming to see me be crowned. There were no demon lords left to disrupt the procession.

Everything would go according to plan.

Belial took me to the library first to deal with Catherine’s soul. Holga and Cecil met us there, the five of us standing in front of the secretary's desk. Catherine was no longer naked, instead dressed in a pale gown that made her look more like a ghost than anything.

She was solemn, her eyes downcast, hands folded in front of her. Belial didn’t address her, instead nudging me forward, encouraging me to do what I’d intended to do since we returned to Limbo.

The time had finally come.

“We are here to discuss what should become of your soul,” I said to her gently. Her eyes slowly lifted to meet mine when she realized I was addressing her. “I have a proposal for you, if you would accept it.”

Her head canted to the side at my words, curiosity lighting up her features. “What kind of…proposal?”

“Paradise,” I said, holding up an empty soul book for her to see. “A place offered to the most deserving souls. You would spend eternity reliving your most precious memories.”

A tiny gasp escaped her, her eyes bouncing between me and the soul book in my hands. “And if I refuse?”

To be honest, I hadn’t considered what would happen if Catherine didn’t want to live out the rest of eternity in paradise. I guessed we could shove her into the book. As I understood it, she wouldn’t remember any of this anyway, so if we had to force her into her happiest memories, I wasn’t opposed.

“You will be sent to a lower layer of Hell,” Belial interjected sternly. “You will be under Rayven’s rule, for she is the queen of the other eight realms now.”

Catherine quickly shook her head. “No, I…I don’t want to go back there. Please, I—”

“It’s okay,” I assured her, smiling for her benefit. I could tell she was terrified, the dark memories of what had happened to her below playing over her features. Aside from what I’d witnessed, I had no idea what had happened to her, and I didn’t want to know. “Souls don’t typically get to decide what happens to them, but these aren’t typical circumstances. If it was me, I’d choose paradise too.”

Catherine’s gaze nervously flashed in Belial’s direction, a mix of heavy feelings banked behind her eyes. There was still a lot of resentment there, and I couldn’t blame her, but after a long moment, the dark-haired woman slowly nodded to show her respect. Then, she looked at me and the blank soul book I held in my hands.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice cracking with emotion.

She wasn’t thanking Belial. I doubted she’d ever forgive him enough for that. She was thanking me . After all, I’d been adamant since we escaped the eighth layer of Hell that her soul should finally be put to rest. Before any other business was handled, before any other souls were dealt with, hers would be first.

She’d waited long enough.

“You don't have to thank me.” I shook my head. After everything she’d endured—being robbed of her mortal life, dragged to Hell, forced to suffer and be tortured by Belphegor—living out the rest of her existence in her own personal paradise was the least she deserved. “It’s my honor.”

Catherine sank to one knee, kneeling before me, and a fist clenched my heart. As much as I admired the loyalty I’d been shown by the souls in Hell, I didn’t think I’d ever deserve it. I didn’t think I’d ever get used to it. She bowed her head, waiting, and I glanced at Belial.

He’d removed his mask for the occasion—he rarely wore it anymore. He looked stunningly handsome in his black formal attire, tailored to fit the lithe body of his lesser form to mouth-watering perfection. He nodded slightly, and I opened the book in my hands, staring down at the blank pages, pages that would soon be imprinted with Catherine’s most cherished memories.

Whatever they were, I hoped they were beautiful.

In a swirl of blue magic, Catherine’s soul disappeared, pulled into the book’s contents. Traces of the glow lingered around the book for a breath before fading completely.

I closed the book, running my fingers gingerly over the leather-bound cover before turning to hand it to Cecil, who’d been standing idly by, waiting for instructions.

“Thank you, Cecil,” I told the librarian with a smile.

“Of course, Your Majesty,” he said before turning to hobble down the aisle to return the book to its new home.

“I’m not the queen yet,” I whispered to Belial. The corner of his mouth lifted in a devilish smirk.

“Almost.” He pulled me into him and pressed his lips to my temple. “In fact, everyone should be gathering in the throne room now. We should get a move on.”

My insides pretzeled. It was coronation day. In a very short amount of time, I would be crowned Queen of Limbo or Souls or Bones…whatever my title would officially be. I’d wear the spine of my ex-boyfriend on my head and sit upon the Lord of Bones’ throne.

“Belial,” I said, my feet rooting to the spot.

I knew the time had come, but still, I wasn’t ready. I didn't know if I would ever be ready.

“Don’t be nervous,” he urged me. “You were made for this. You were made for me . Come. I have a surprise for you.”

“A surprise?” I cocked an eyebrow at him, and his smirk broke into a grin.

“Yes.”

He offered me his arm, and I took it, letting him guide me toward the corridor. “Such a gentleman,” I mused. “What, no collar? No leash to lead your slave queen to her coronation?”

I was joking, but my smile slipped, and a blush flamed my cheeks at the wolfish look he shot me. “Those things aren’t required anymore, not now that I don’t have to worry about you wandering into danger again. Though, we can still bring them out for playtime later…”

The mention of playtime, paired with his honied baritone, had the spot between my thighs heating and arousal soaking my panties.

He gave a sinister smile, knowing exactly what he was doing to me.

Holga moved silently to fall in line behind us. As my official handmaid, she spent most of her time making sure I was taken care of—but Belial shook his head.

“Holga, would you meet us in the throne room?”

Her fleshless face was emotionless, but I could have sworn I noticed a shift in her energy. Was I finally figuring out how to read the skeletal witch? Or was the sleep deprivation finally catching up to me?

“Of course, My Lord.” She nodded her head and swept past us, disappearing down the long corridor alone. My guess was that Cecil would catch up with her after he finished his duties in the library.

Since we’d gotten back from the lower layers, those two were inseparable. They’d hated each other at the start, just like Belial and me. Turns out, the only reason they didn’t get along was because Holga didn’t like the Lord while Cecil had an undying loyalty for him. Now that her opinion of him had changed, they saw eye to eye. Well, as well as people without eyes could see.

“What’s the surprise?” I asked as we took off in the opposite direction. My crimson gown swayed with my steps, the jewels glinting in the torchlight.

“It wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you now, would it?” A sly smirk curled his lips. “Besides, it would be much easier to show you.”

We walked through the halls, and a hint of familiarity tugged at my chest. This castle had gone from feeling like a prison when I first arrived to a place I belonged, a place that felt more like home than anywhere I’d ever lived.

I could spend a hundred lifetimes in this stunning castle and never get bored. I might get lost a time or ten, but I wouldn’t trade it, especially after seeing what the rest of Hell had to offer.

My Hell, I reminded myself.

Belial was adamant about me taking over the other eight realms, though I’d hardly decided how to handle them or what to do. It was all so much, too much for me to process or think about. All I wanted right now was to get through my coronation. I’d never liked crowds and would be eager for the guests to leave the moment that crown hit my head.

We rounded a corner, and Belial stopped abruptly. I followed suit, eyeing him until he gestured to a giant empty patch of wall.

“Here you go,” he said, a proud gleam in his eye.

There was nothing special about the wall at first glance, just a boring stretch of wallpaper that had seen better days. I stared at it for a moment, like a hidden message would pop out at any second. I finally noticed where the wallpaper changed color in a perfect square, fading to an even more unexciting shade of gray. There was a small table topped with a frog-shaped teapot and a candlestick.

My heart skipped a nervous beat.

“I had the painting of Catherine removed,” he said, gesturing to the empty space. “And I’ve commissioned another to be made in its place.”

“Belial, I—”

“You don’t have to say anything. You can even scold me for not getting rid of it sooner,” he assured me. “I don’t want you thinking another woman—alive or dead—could ever hold a candle to you. No level of intense infatuation could ever rival the obsession, the love I have for you, little treasure. Do you understand?”

I was speechless. The Lord of Limbo was obsessed with me, there was no denying that, but the way he spoke made the words sink down to my marrow.

“Whatever you want, name it, and it will be yours,” he said. There was that panty-obliterating smirk grin again. “I’ll fulfill every fantasy, every desire, every dark wish your mind can conjure. You know I’ll go to the ends of the Nine Hells to grant it.”

My answer came without hesitation. “I want you. That’s all I need.”

He dragged me into his arms swiftly, his lips crashing against mine and his tongue sweeping eagerly into my mouth. I sighed against his scarred flesh, savoring his scent—strawberries, with that slight hint of pine, like a freshly cut casket. “Keep it up, and we’ll be late for the coronation,” I hummed between kisses.

He growled against my lips. “I’m the King. I do as I please. The coronation will begin when we decide it begins.”

I pressed a hand against his chest, leaning back to meet his stormy gray eyes, and cocked a brow at him.

“Fine,” he conceded with a sigh. Blue magic crackled around him as he transformed into the Lord of Bones. The blue fire in his eye sockets flickered in the dim light, and his cloak fluttered before draping around his brawny frame.

“This was your idea,” I reminded him as one of his giant hands came around my waist to tug me close.

“I know, but after you’re crowned, that dress is coming off,” he said, a growl rumbling in his throat.