Chapter 34: Ashtaroth

I drag a hand through my steam-damp hair, then take a seat at the head of the table, Sariel and Armaros' eyes tracking me.

"So hard up you had to leave mid-meeting?" Sariel smirks, hands clasped in front of him on the tabletop. He then freezes, nose wrinkling as he takes in my scent. "Is she alive?" he asks, eyes wide.

"That's not blood from a wound, dumbass." Armaros rolls his eyes at my son. They're hardly ever apart, yet they take pleasure in disagreeing with each other at every turn.

Sariel whistles and wags his eyebrows. "Sailing the Red Sea, eh?" Once he takes my mood in, however, he frowns. I must be showing some of the agitation I feel. Like remorse, fear is something I have not experienced… until her. I never had any reason to. I never put a value on something so delicate. "Why don't you look like a dude who just nutted?" Sariel asks, confusion clear in his voice, on his expressive face.

I click my tongue and glare at him. "Your mastery over vocabulary never ceases to astound me, son." He just snickers, but there is wariness in his expression. He enjoys pushing me with his jokes, taking the punishments in stride, but he is loyal to a fault.

After a second of pondering, he leans forward, now serious. "You know we'll protect anything that's yours, right? Keep it safe?" He doesn't like to show it, but my son is incredibly astute. After centuries together, he anticipates my needs without requiring much input from me.

When exactly did Lana become mine to care for and protect? When has she started to influence me? It should have been impossible. But her presence makes me see the world, my world, in a new light. Pride feels keener, lust feels sharper. My ennui has lessened, the present becoming clearer. I feel millennia younger, but equipped with the knowledge that this is not common. I want her to bask in all that my power can give her. I want her to not only crave my flesh in return, but also to find my entire being as vital to her existence as air.

Armaros must catch on and rests his palms on the tabletop, nodding with a grave expression. I hold both of their gazes for a moment. "Yes," I acknowledge, ending the discussion to move on to the matter at hand. Or at least I thought I did.

"So, it's perfectly okay that you're catching feels." That Cheshire grin is back on Sariel's face. "For a girl young enough to be your great, great, great, great, great, great, grea–" I cut him off with a thrown goblet, which he sadly dodges with ease, his shoulders shaking with laughter.

"Do not make me throw you in the dungeon; I need you to go to Purgatory." My order sobers him up marginally.

"What do you need from us?" Armaros asks, elbowing my son in the ribs .

"Inquire with the Fallen about this Simone, and perhaps any other female offspring they misplaced over the years."

"Like the one recovering in your bed?" Sariel quips.

"She's not missing, numbnuts, they know perfectly well where she is." Armaros sneers at him.

"Find out what you can about her family," I continue as if the interlude never happened. "We will see if what Belial claimed is true."

Sariel shakes his head. "I still don't like that he had information we didn't. Probably sucked every cock on the Council for it."

"Neither do I," I agree. I should pay more attention to Council matters. Something does not feel right; a puzzle piece jammed in the wrong spot. And why did we never find the rift claimed to be open in my brother's domain? "Leave now," I command, dismissing them with a wave of my hand.

As they rise wordlessly, I catch the eye of a servant lurking in the corner. "Prepare a tray of food." The servant bows so deeply that their horned head nearly kisses the ground. I decide to walk back to my quarters to clear my head of the last vestiges of my unease.

I pluck Puck off a candelabra right before his weight can unbalance it and send him off as my niece rounds the corner, a leash attached to the Cambion boy loosely held in her hand. While the boy looked simply resigned to his fate at first, once he sees they are no longer alone and that it is, in fact, me who is seeing him like this, he flushes a red as deep as Puck's preferred treat.

Stepping over the threshold to Elysium would be easier than not showing my enjoyment over the blow to the male's pride, so I do not bother to hide my grin. "What are you doing with that child, Naamah?" I ask with a drawl that visibly infuriates the boy.

She stops, places her free hand to rest on her curved hip, and cocks her head with a sultry smile. "Walking my human, obviously. "

"I see that." I smirk but ponder the situation. I walked my human a lot today in those caves. Does she need more? She is used to regular physical activity. I decide to spar with her – I will undoubtedly teach her more than those young Fallen. I shake my head. Naamah is waiting patiently, but my thousand-yard stare clearly confused the youth, his brows now drawn. "Is the leash necessary?" I ask, returning to the present.

My niece clucks her tongue and bats her hand dismissively. "Necessary? No." Her smile spreads to the point where it unveils her true nature. "But it's so much fun. For me, at least," she croons.

I chuckle at her theatrics – Naamah is certainly my favorite among my brother's brood. Before I make my retort, the flushing boy interrupts us. "Did you learn anything about Simone? And where's Lana, is she alright?"

All mirth gone, I pin the brash young male with my stare. "Teach your pet to respect his betters, child," I snarl through gritted teeth, addressing Naamah, but not moving my eyes from the now-pale mortal. "My Nephalem is attached to him. My mercy, however, only extends so far. It would be a shame if he were to be returned to dust the next time he interrupts an archdemon's conversation."

Naamah glares at the boy and hisses. He stumbles half a step back but corrects his posture and does not cower.

"Apologies, Uncle." The succubus dips her chin at me solemnly. My rage is always close to the surface. She knows many creatures have met their untimely end for talking to me at the wrong moment.

For being brave enough to hold his ground and not piss himself like the majority faced with my ire do, I reward him with an answer to his brazen questions. "Not yet, and yes, naturally."

That he even considered Lana may be unwell implies he thinks there is a chance she could be hurt while under my protection. I clench my jaw until I feel a muscle in my cheek ticking. The boy's eyes widen in fear again. I leave his punishment to my niece and nod a curt farewell to her before materializing to my wing, reminding myself to keep my lamb content and sweet – I should not kill the boy.

Lana is reading in the sitting room when I enter – a tome on the Heavenly War. At least anything in my home is mostly accurate. At the snap of my fingers a tray of food appears before her on the low table. She's peeking at me behind the large book's covers, no doubt sensing my mood. My lamb is perceptive and already highly attuned to me. Now smirking, I sit next to her on the settee, ordering her to eat. Rolling her eyes at the command she no doubt found too imperious – I will enjoy punishing her for that later – she lowers the book and gives the cold cuts her attention. I should make sure she eats more cooked food.

"I will show you to the kitchens tomorrow. Or you may relay your wishes through any servant. You must eat even when I am not around to feed you." She snorts, chewing slowly. The pleasure I derive from watching her eat the food I provided makes me worry that I will next start thumping a bat against the ground before dragging her to my lair by her hair.

"Don't worry, when I need food, everyone will know." She smiles, her eyes twinkling. "I get hangry," she clarifies. "What did you decide to do about Asmodeus and Simone, if that's who he has?"

"Sariel and Armaros should be at Abaddon now, gathering more information from your Fallen mentors." I have no need to hide my intentions from her.

She purses her lips, considering her next words carefully. "I'm guessing I can't go talk to them about it, too?"

Does she think that I could not reach her in Purgatory? That I would not let her visit for fear of her leaving my grasp? I suppress my laughter. "You are staying here because I want you in my bed tonight."

I can see her pulse speeding up at my words, her lovely neck flushing, the redness traveling up to her cheeks. She ignores my statement and I cross my legs, then lean back, indulging myself by watching her eat. I should have insisted she eats the food from my fingers. Her luscious lips close around a piece of cheese and she reaches for another olive.

"Would you choose to stay here, if given the choice?" My question surprises her, the olive slipping through her fingers. Not taking my attention from her, I use the ether to stop its fall and float it back to the tray. She is too busy gaping at me to notice. I would have floated the olive into her mouth were I not worried she would choke on it in her current state of astonishment.

She blinks a couple of times, her beautiful eyes still locked on mine. "What would I do here?" Her question is soft, tentative.

"You may continue with the purpose you have been brought Below for if you wish. I will allow you to keep your Cambion boy to do so with if that is what you desire."

She bristles, her spine straightening. Such a joy to see her provoked. "First of all, Kevin is not a pet to be kept. Second of all, neither am I!"

I feel that sharing my opinion on this would be detrimental, so I merely maintain a neutral smile. After a while she turns back to her food, her eyes not quite focused as she contemplates her answer. Finally, she gives me her reply, while still not looking at me. "I don't know," she whispers, then busies herself with her meal again.

When she throws a glance my way to gauge my reaction, she does a double take. Clearly, she expected me to be mad. But how could I be? She did not say no, as her mortal heart must be telling her she should have. I may be ‘catching feels', as my son described so eloquently, but I have not taken leave of my sanity. I will coax, I will convince, and I will be the devil on her shoulder, as ironic as that may be. I can be patient – as long as she remains here, by my side and secure.

After she is done eating, she excuses herself to the bathroom. It was a strenuous day for her and I am rather well fed from our bout earlier. Still, she finds me waiting for her by the bed, unclothed. I strip her of the sleeping clothes she had just put on in the bathing room, then throw her onto the bed to have my own dinner, despite her reservations and objections.