Chapter 25: Lana

T he sound of a heavy door clicking shut makes me emerge from the warm cocoon of sleep I'm wrapped in.

"You're awake," the most erotic voice in existence says.

I remember what I let him do to me, what I begged him to do to me, actually, and I flush. Not looking at him I ask, "How long have I been asleep?"

"A day."

"A day!" I sit up and the blanket pools on my lap, exposing my naked breasts. I scramble to cover myself but it's too late.

"Mmm," Ashtaroth purrs, the sound hitting me straight in the gut. Well, a bit lower. He grabs the tops of my arms and pulls me up. Now I'm completely naked. "Lovely," he says with a deep growl, then pushes me back against the wall. "I think it's time your mouth acquaints itself with the cock you will worship as your god."

I can't help it. I look down at his crotch. I didn't get a chance to see much of it while he was fucking me, but I would really, really like to.

A knock saves me from dropping to my knees and tearing his growing erection free from his pants.

"What?" Ashtaroth growls at the (un)timely interruption.

"My Lord," a timid voice sounds through the door. "There is a Cambion boy at the gates. From Abaddon. He, ah, requests to see you and we are uncertain how to proceed."

Kevin! It must be.

"Kill him," Ashtaroth clips and I shriek in outrage. He observes me for a second, then puffs out a breath. "Very well. Bring him to the throne room."

"I'm coming with you," I say, wriggling out of his grasp and ducking under his arm to get to the bathroom. That I'm successful means he let me escape.

His eyes are immediately on me when I return and the muscles in his jaw are ticking. He's clearly stewing over something. "What is he to you?" he asks with deadly intent.

"What? He's like… I feel responsible for him. And he probably thinks it's his fault that you took me."

He scoffs arrogantly. "Your entire army could not keep me from you." He's wearing that smug grin again and I want to slap it off.

"I know that," I grit through my teeth. "But he's just a twenty-three-year-old boy."

"And how old are you?" he asks, black eyebrow raised.

"Thirty-one, ancient cradle robber," I answer, turning to the dresser and picking out clothes at random. I wouldn't even know how old I am if Maalik hadn't been going to the human realm for provisions. No one bothers to really measure time here.

He laughs softly. "When I still freely roamed Above, women your age were grandmothers."

"That is… disturbing." Finished dressing, I pull on another pair of flats. I face him and see he's wearing an indulgent smile. My clit pulses and those sinful lips twitch .

"He could wait?" Ashtaroth suggests mildly.

"Let's go," I grumble, wishing he wore a paper bag on his stupid, stunning head.

Once we get to the throne room, I step ahead of him and immediately see Kevin in a silent showdown with Sariel and Armaros.

"Kevin!" I start running to him, but I'm stopped by a strong grip on the back of my neck. Ugh. Flipping caveman.

"Stop hurting her!" Kevin yells at the epochs old archdemon. He has zero sense of self-preservation.

"I'm fine, Kev." I rub the back of my neck once Ashtaroth releases it.

"What will you do when the council hears of this?" It's like a hamster facing off with a starving bear.

Thankfully, the bear just chuckles. "The Fallen will not bother the Council over one soldier. A soldier who is being fed and clothed. A soldier who sleeps in my bed and not in a dungeon." I blush over his words. Way to make it sound like I'm his willing concubine.

Kevin has no retort. That's unexpected. I look at him to see he's gazing at the archdemon, a dazed expression on his face. I snort. Yup, welcome to my world.

He shakes himself out of it and blushes. "Then I will go to them myself," he threatens. Idiot.

Ashtaroth sighs.

"Wait, Father." Sariel joins the conversation. "Don't throw him in the dungeon. I'll keep our prisoner secured. He's kinda cute." He winks at us.

"What?" Kevin expresses his confusion.

"Fine," Ashtaroth says on a long-suffering exhale.

"What?" I ask this time, but Sariel just grins like a kid in a candy shop and hoists Kevin over one shoulder, Armaros shaking with laughter behind them. He slaps Kev on the ass, then turns towards the doors, Armaros following. "Hold on," I say, but they're already gone.

"He's straight!" I say to Ashtaroth, thinking of Sariel and Armaros at dinner. "Very, very straight!"

"Do not fret, lamb," he replies in a salacious tone. "He will be begging to be fucked long before they do so."

"But…" I don't know what to say. I can't imagine Kevin at the mercy of two men. Two beautiful, toned, sexy fallen angels with centuries of experience in giving pleasure… hmm.

"Can I watch?" I joke. At least, I think I'm joking.

He gives a low laugh that I feel between my legs and steps closer, lowering his face to mine before murmuring, "Is that what you want to do, hmm? To beg on your knees, prostrating yourself before me, your tears falling onto the tops of my feet as you kiss them, writhing with the need to be filled to the brim? You would make yourself come by rubbing your cunt on my feet if I allowed it, would you not? You enjoyed my thigh so much after all. But I wouldn't let you find release, pet. Not for a very long time."

Who talks like that? And why am I panting? I don't have a freaking foot fetish! "You know what, I think it sounds more fun to watch than to participate," I say airily.

"You know what?" he mocks. "I know when you're lying."

"T-this is beside the point!" I stammer, making him smile all the wider. "Wait, have you been with males before?" I have to know.

"Of course." He's unbothered. "The constraints over sexuality mortals impose have no meaning here." Oh. That's… something. His impressive frame being caressed by calloused fingers. Yum .

I snap myself out of my salacious daydreams. "Kevin didn't consent to this. All of you need a lesson in consent, actually."

"Does it matter when he would enjoy it immensely in the end?" It's not a question, really. It's a haughty statement and my hackles rise. I'm no longer up for joking arguments away.

"It does when he'll hate himself after. I know that more than anyone." I did hate myself after that first time, but I find it's only half true right now, as most of my common sense has left my body sometime between dinner and dessert.

He doesn't like my semi-true proclamation though – his face twists into a rictus of contempt. "Your feelings do not matter to me. As long as you are ready to spread your legs at a mere glance from your owner, you may feel whatever the hell you want," he snarls.

I feel all the blood drain from my face until pinpricks are burning over every inch of it. It's one thing to know you're being used for the amusement of unfeeling creatures while you're being treated well. But the truth will always rear its ugly head, making sure there's no comfort in delusion.

He was always arrogant, presumptuous, pompous, and high-handed. But I realize now that he never truly hurt me until this moment. And this really hurts, like a slap to the face; a sharp stinging pain followed by a burn I feel in my throat.

Trying to hide the tears overfilling my eyes, I turn without a retort and pick a direction at random. He doesn't follow.