5. Chapter Five

Chapter Five

Belial

For just a moment after Rayven kissed me, I thought she might forgive me. Her lips against mine… The touch felt so final. I knew, in her mind, she was saying goodbye.

I hadn’t exactly planned on revealing myself like this, but I couldn’t wait a second longer. She had to know this wasn’t goodbye.

We’d be together forever.

When I revealed myself, I’d expected her to be angry at first. I’d anticipated the tantrum.

What I didn’t expect was just how scathing her reaction would be.

Whatever flickering flame of hope I had that she’d sweep her hatred for the Lord of Bones under the rug was devoured by something darker, something possessive.

How dare she try to flee from me again?

I’d prove to her and everyone else just how mine she was.

I jerked on the chain connecting her to me, and she stumbled forward, quickly catching her balance. The hot fury in her gaze burned into my fleshless skull from across the hall, but I didn’t care. She would be my queen, and she’d wear my crown. It was up to her whether I’d have to force it on her.

Wrapping the chain around my forearm, I dragged her closer to where I sat on my throne. She fought me with every inch I pulled her closer, tugging on the magical links.

It was hopeless, even without the chain. If only she knew the power she’d given me by selling her soul…

“F—fuck—off!” she seethed, and the crowd whispered their shock at the way she spoke to their Lord.

I chuckled beneath my breath. They had no idea how much I loved this wild little human, how hard I got when I watched her fight me.

She wandered dangerously close to the Styx, the river that carried souls from this realm to my brothers’. Before I claimed her, the souls of the dead would have lurched from the Styx’s bloody depths and dragged her along to the second circle of Hell, but now, she belonged to me. The Styx’s dark magic would have no effect on her.

She was still fighting, thrashing and pulling at the chain connected to her collar, begging for me to set her free. As much as I loved hearing her beg, her pleas fell on deaf ears. She’d rejected me in front of my subjects. My pride was wounded, and she needed to be taught a lesson.

Rayven—and everyone else—needed to understand exactly who she belonged to.

“Stop, please.” She grabbed onto the chain. “Someone—Help me!”

My teeth gnashed with a displeased growl. Who was she asking for help? No one would help her. No one, soul, demon, or otherwise, would dare oppose me.

“I said come , Rayven.” This time, I yanked the chain so hard, she stumbled forward, crashing into the shallow, blood-filled river. Corpses and bits of carrion drifted by slowly, and she shrieked when a head without eyes floated past.

Crimson droplets beaded her exposed flesh as she fought to stand in the steady current. She looked up at me, eyes full of hate.

“Fuck you,” she spat, her gaze falling to her soaked gown. It was darker now, drenched in blood, and as I dragged her up onto the dais with another wrench of the chain, rivets of dark liquid poured off her.

Weeping Hells. She was a vision in red, like Lilith herself, looking so fucking gorgeous wrapped in gore and fury and lace.

“That can be arranged.” I pulled her onto my lap, my eyes falling to the vibrant red welts the collar around her throat created. A distinct heat sank straight to my cock. I lowered my voice. “Would you like to give our guests a show? Or maybe after the ball, I can fuck you right here, on my throne. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, pet?”

“I hate you,” she gritted out, but I knew it wasn’t entirely true. She could lie all she wanted, but I sensed the way her pulse picked up at my salacious suggestion, the way her pussy dripped with arousal when I punished her, desperate to feel me. She might have hated me, but her body didn’t.

“I don’t think you do,” I countered, and she attempted to shove me away. I gripped her chain tighter with a dark chuckle. “Don’t look so vexed, little mortal. Everyone’s here to see you, and you look stunning when you’re soaked in blood.” If my fleshless skull had lips, I would have been smirking. “Pity it’s not my blood. You look the best when you’re dripping with me, blood or otherwise.”

“We can arrange that.” She scoffed, pinning her eyes firmly on the spectators below us. “Give me a knife, and I’ll gladly stab you again.”

She refused to look at me.

“Dance.”

I snapped my fingers, and just like that, the music started, and our guests began dancing, with only the occasional curious glance tossed in the throne’s direction.

“You're going to learn to obey me, Rayven.” I attached the end of her chain to my throne, just below one of the armrests. With my newly freed hand, I traced a finger over her shoulder, admiring its curve. “Love me. Fear me. Obey me. That is all I ask of you.”

Her piercing glare landed on me. “No wonder Catherine killed herself to get away from you.”

I moved fast, my hand snatching the back of her neck and wrenching her up so her face was an inch from mine. “Stuff that bratty mouth of yours, or I’ll do it for you. I’m sure you can imagine what I’d use as the gag.”

Before she could open her mouth and fire off another rebuttal, there was a collective gasp from my subjects.

Cutting a harsh path through the crowd was the Lord of Lechery himself, Asmodeus, darkness pouring off the three-headed beast in tangible waves. He wore a gold mask on each of his faces and was dressed so scantily, I had to do a double take to make sure he wasn’t naked. A few straps of gold-studded leather crossed his broad chest, and just enough of a loincloth shielded his cock from the partygoers.

One of my skeletal servants was leading him to us, an anxious air about him as he tried to keep his distance from the demon lord.

“My L-Lord,” the servant squeaked, stopping just before the River Styx that separated us. He bowed his head to show respect before snapping upright. “Lord Asmodeus has arri—”

“Out of my way.” His words cut off abruptly when Asmodeus’ fist slammed into the back of his skull, punching straight out the front of his face. Rayven tensed on my lap with a tiny gasp, shrinking back against me. The servant’s body clattered to the floor and slipped into the Styx, joining the slow procession of body parts sweeping out of the hall.

If I’d had eyes in this form, I would have rolled them. The fucker had always been one for theatrics.

“Belial.” He nodded his three heads in unison. The bull head on the left huffed a cloud of smoke as he spoke.

“Brother.” I tipped my horns. “Did you really have to dispose of my servant?”

Asmodeus’ cloven hoof scraped the floor with his huff. “Oh, fuck off, Bel. You have enough servants as it is. By Baal’s dick, you have countless souls dribbling from every nook, cranny, and corner of this festering hell hole…”

The three-headed demon’s tirade trailed off when his attention found my pet.

“What a tasty-looking mortal toy you have there.” All six of his hungry eyes landed on Rayven, and a jealous fire tore through me. They lingered too long, and I couldn’t help but imagine myself ripping off every one of his heads, starting with the smallest one between his legs. “Is she the dinner I was promised on the invitation?”

He started for the throne. “What’s everyone else gonna eat?”

If he’d taken a step closer, the Styx would have turned bloodier. A growl rumbled from my chest, stopping him in his tracks.

“Come on, Bel,” the middle head snickered.

“Aren’t brothers supposed to share?” the head on the right finished.

“Not on your fucking life, you three-headed creep,” Rayven said, voice cracking through the air like a whip.

My cock hardened at the sass in her voice. Leave it to my little mortal to talk back to one of the most powerful demons in the nine circles of Hell. I had to hand it to her; she had one fuck of a backbone.

The energy spilling off Asmodeus darkened, a wave of pure cruelty and violence radiating from him.

“You’re going to let her speak to me that way?” His flaxen-haired middle head cocked to the side.

I lifted a shoulder. “Can’t take what you dish out, brother?”

His jaw fell slack, his eyes narrowing. “You always had a thing for fragile mortal females, Belial. It’d be a shame if this one ended up…broken.”

My fists clenched around the armrests of my throne, claws scraping divots into the bone.

A threat, and not even a thinly-veiled one. Another growl rolled up my throat, my patience waning. “This one’s not fragile. Now, eyes off unless you intend to lose all six of them, Lord Asmodeus. I’ll make my guests count as I pluck them out one by one.”

“No need for bedroom talk. I get the picture.” His tone was laced with disdain. With three smirks, he turned and marched away, his furry ass cheeks on full display as he went.

Instinctively, I grabbed Rayven by the waist and pulled her closer to me. She resisted slightly before giving in, my throbbing erection pressing up against her ass through the layers of fabric separating us.

I wanted her, nearly enough to say fuck the ball and tear her clothes off right here, but I didn’t want anyone looking too long at her naked body. Especially Asmodeus. I’d kill them all. Her delicious, perfect form was for my eyes alone.

“You should probably watch your tone when addressing the lords of Hell,” I muttered in her ear, my forked tongue dancing out of my maw to lick the crusted blood on her shoulder. She shivered and tried to lean away, but my hold on the collar kept her in place.

“Why? Are you worried they’ll hurt me?” she asked, her eyes finally finding mine.

I laughed in earnest, the sound echoing over the music. “I’d gouge out their eyes for looking at you the wrong way. If they laid a finger on you, I’d butcher them all.”

Next to approach the throne was Leviathan, his angular cheekbones peeking out from beneath a vibrant green mask. He was dressed in all black, with copper accents that glinted in the candlelight. He bowed, his serpentine eyes bouncing between Rayven and me.

“What a lovely party,” he admired, gesturing to the dancing crowd behind him. Unlike most of my brothers, Leviathan was often cordial, damn near tolerable. Of all my brothers, I liked him most, though like was a strong word.

“And what a lovely…” the demon lord hesitated, finding the right word, “pet.”

“Thank you, Lord Leviathan.” I tipped my horns to him as I struggled with what else to say. I’d say it was good to see him, but that would be a lie.

I hadn’t seen my brothers in person in centuries, and I liked it that way.

All I wanted was to proudly show off my soon-to-be queen.

A terse grin curled his thin lips. “I hope the reason you gathered us here tonight has something to do with you resuming your Judgement duties. The lower layers of Hell are a bit sparse on souls these days. I thought you had done away with the distractions…”

His slitted gaze slithered back to the woman in my lap. She was so small compared to this form, and she easily balanced on one knee.

“But now you’ve gone and gotten yourself a new female pet… Interesting.”

Before I could retort, he slithered back into the crowd, blending in much better than Asmodeus.

“Being a dickhead obviously runs in the family.” Rayven crossed her arms over her chest. Crimson liquid oozed from her dress, blood cascading like tears over her skin, but she didn't seem to care.

“Would you expect anything less from the lords of Hell?”

“No.” Her heated gaze snapped in my direction. “Not when you’re King Dickhead, ruler of the evil and remorseless.”

“Oh, but you love how dark and demented I am, don’t you, little treasure?” I reached for her chin, but she flinched away from me.

Before I could say anything else, a pair of figures appeared in the corner of my eye. A quick glance almost made me chuckle, but I swallowed it down. Standing before the throne were Mammon, the Lord of Greed, and my shapeshifting brother, Belphegor, who’d shown up in his preferred female form.

With the way he draped himself on Mammon’s arm, Asmodeus wasn’t the only one he’d set his sights on.

The difference was, Asmodeus had slept with his brother not knowing who it was. It seemed Belphegor had decided to recycle the same joke, this time with the Lord of Greed as his victim.

This female form had a new face, but I could see beneath the magic disguising him.

“You have no shame,” I addressed the female Belphegor.

Mammon’s brows crinkled with confusion before he smirked. “Shame’s a funny thing to bring up, considering the human toy you’re proudly displaying at a royal affair. At least my date is a demon.”

Mammon wore a smoke gray suit and cape with too many embellishments and too many iron rings on his fingers. A black mask hid most of his wide face, and a spill of oily black hair fell just over his shoulders.

Belphegor was his polar opposite, with voluptuous curves in all the right places. Flowing white hair fell around his narrow shoulders, and red eyes peeked out from behind a delicate filigree mask. If he moved too suddenly, his breasts were going to pop out of his little black dress.

I could sense Rayven’s curious gaze lingering on him, wondering who this stunning woman was. “Who is that?” she whispered beneath her breath.

The flames of my eyes flickered at the lack of hatred in her tone. My brothers were providing a decent distraction from her anger. At least they were good for something.

“Remember the story I told you about Belphegor taking on the form of a woman to trick Asmodeus into fucking him?” I whispered to her.

Her eyes widened and, for a moment, there was the trace of a smile at the corner of her mouth. “Your family has baggage.”

“Oh, little human, you have no idea.”

Rayven stifled a laugh that my brothers seemed to miss before they disappeared into the crowd. She watched them go, her eyes glued to the dancing crowd waltzing effortlessly to the melody playing from the live band.

“Admiring your subjects?” I asked, hooking a claw beneath her chin and turning her face toward me. Her eyes glimmered with hatred.

“ Your subjects,” she spat. “I am not your queen.”

I chuckled, amused by her stubbornness. “You are my slave queen, and once I make the announcement, everyone will know it.”

Grabbing her wrist, I trailed a finger over the two marks above her wrist. My marks.

“Soon, my pet. You don't have much time left.”

Her eyes narrowed, and she snatched her arm away.

“Fuck you. I'm not your queen, and I never will be.”

She jumped off my lap, and I watched her go, laughing as she hopped off the dais straight into the river Styx. Her fear from earlier had been replaced by rage that rippled through me in waves of ecstasy. Oh, how I yearned to fuck that attitude out of her.

Struggling against the current, she climbed out on the other side, once again soaked to the bone in blood. As she dashed into the crowd, she left a smear of crimson in her wake.

She gathered a bundle of the chain in her arms to make running easier, but the end of it remained attached to my throne. It would grow as she fled, adding links until she tired.

I leaned back, debating my next move.

I’d let her run…or at least, I’d give her a head start before tracking her down. I adored how she still thought she stood a chance at escaping.

Her time might not have technically been up, but if she wasn’t tired of this game of cat and mouse yet, I’d let her play.

I’d let her run.

Because there wasn’t anything I loved more than chasing her…aside from the part where I fucked her after.

The day was nearly out. When I caught her, her time would be up.

I stood and slowly started to follow the chain trail she’d left me, counting down the seconds until I cut the third mark into her arm.

The only question was, would I do it before or after I fucked her?