Chapter 45: Lana

I feel like an elephant is sitting on my chest. Groaning, I try to lift my hand to it, but it's trapped. With a gasp born of adrenaline, I open my eyes and see a familiar red velvet canopy. To my right I see a familiar bedroom, and to the left a face that has, in the last couple of months, become as familiar as my own.

"Am I dead?" I croak, enjoying the way Ash's lips curl into a small smile. But, ugh , I think I have morning breath from Hell, my current location having nothing to do with it.

"You certainly slept like the dead for three days. If your face and hair feel sticky, it is because I attempted to feed you broth and honey water and not because I orgasmed over them while you were unconscious." He grins wickedly, but I see there's cautious relief in his eyes. "Or did I?"

I groan and pull my hand out from underneath the cocoon of covers, so I can slap my palm over my face. "Your jokes are the worst, Ash, please stop embarrassing yourself."

His low chuckle stirs that fire in my belly, one he kindled and ignited and poured fuel over until it rose like a phoenix from the flames – my own creature but also his. A dinner bell ringing for my own personal feast.

But, first… "I need to use the bathroom, STAT. Or should I say statim , Father Time?"

My teasing doesn't ruffle him and he just smirks. "If you want to make that point, you will have to go further back than Latin, sweetness."

Before I can deliver a riposte, he's no longer lying next to me and I feel his arms sliding underneath my body, scooping me up from the bed. "Hey!" I protest halfheartedly. I fucking know I can't walk right now. To be completely honest, I may pee all over myself if I tried. He's not paying any attention to my objection anyway, and soon we're standing in the middle of the bathroom.

"Shoo." I wave him off. "Privacy. It's a thing."

He looks heavenward (and isn't that ironic), and mutters as he turns towards the exit. "I should let you piss yourself." Just before the door closes behind him he adds, "There will be no privacy from me in the future."

As soon as the door is between us, I rush to the toilet, glad I'm in a nightgown and not my leathers. But while I thought this would be easy, I find myself in a bit of a panic instead. It's like my bladder forgot how to relieve itself. As I try to let go, I just grow more frustrated. Remembering an old trick from my more voracious drinking days, I bite my arm, and, finally, a too-slow trickle starts.

Once my bladder is blessedly empty, I sigh in relief and take care of the next pressing tasks: brushing my teeth and bathing. He must have cleaned me as well as tried to feed me because I'm not covered in dirt and dust. Still, I don't feel clean until I scrub every inch of my skin with his pine-scented soap.

When I come out, Ash is sitting on the edge of the bed, a placid expression on his face. I plop down next to him, though he only jostles slightly, since he basically weighs as much as a wall of bricks.

"So…" I give him the cue to start explaining. He turns towards me, his lips set in a very fake looking Mona Lisa smile.

"I suspected Belial was behind the ambush on Sariel and Armaros," he begins without preamble, as if he had the words on the tip of his tongue all these days and now he's finally saying them out loud to me. "The information about your Simone's family came from him, after all." He bares his teeth and I feel that the disgust isn't only aimed at the other archdemon, but himself as well. I want to tell him Armaros' death wasn't his fault, but there's still a wall between us, one born from his behavior the day following that loss.

"I sent Aim to investigate," he continues, leaning forward to rest his arms on his thighs, the rings on his fingers glimmering in the candlelight as he interlaces them. "What little he could find out, confirmed that Belial had been communicating with the cretins and arming them, and thus his culpability." He sighs and slowly angles his head to make eye contact with me. "Because he was the culprit there, I assumed he was also the culprit in whatever situation Asmodai found himself in. I deduced that I was his target, for whatever reason."

His jaw clenches and, when he doesn't immediately continue, I finish the thought he began forming. "But it was me, not you."

He stands up and begins prowling around the room, his clenched fists belying his slow and steady steps. "Yes," he says at length. "It was you, and I sent you away from here, thinking you are safer at Purgatory, far from my side and any possible fallout."

I shake my head. "He's a master manipulator. He had been planning this for decades. He's the reason we're here, the Elioud. While Hell is overcrowded, he somehow manipulated the damned souls to congregate and merge into manifestations, making it seem even more dire to the Council. He whispered in their ear for years, tugging strings left and right, making everything unfold just so."

I stand up as well and plant myself in his path, making him stop walking. "While he couldn't have predicted that I'd end up here with you, he probably had dozens of different contingency plans. You couldn't have known."

He growls in frustration and places his hands on my shoulders, squeezing lightly. "I have known him for millennia. I should have thought beyond the obvious. I let my grief and anger spur me into hasty decisions."

"He said he wanted me because he felt my grandfather owed him his service and abandoned him to be with my grandmother instead," I share, and Ash inclines his head. "Why the argument, though?" I ask the archdemon before me. "The one you had with me. If you wanted me gone, telling me to fuck off would have been just as effective."

Ash closes his eyes and, letting go of my shoulders, starts pacing again. I cross my arms and wait for him to speak, unwilling to help him explain, even though I have my own suspicions about his behavior that day.

"I am indestructible," he begins. "And for countless millennia, I did not feel nuanced emotion, not as the majority of humanity does, not even while living in Elysium." He stops pacing in front of a window and pauses as if to gather the right words to explain this to someone who has only lived a few decades and spent all of those decades feeling a certain way. "We were not created to love anything but our Creator, nor to feel pride in anything but our work for Him. But feelings can be shaped, influenced, and corrupted – they evolve." He turns back towards me and something in his expression keeps me rooted in my place across the room. "For the next several millennia, I only felt a perversion of the little emotion we were given. Lust in control, pride of self, greed for power."

He starts walking back to me slowly, and for some reason, I have to fight the urge to step back. "I desired to control you and your pleasure from the moment I saw you attempting to outsmart that golem." I flush and swallow audibly, my throat suddenly dry. "But I also knew quickly that your presence… centers me. Eons of memories reside in my head; it is not a quiet pl ace. I haven't felt at peace for so long." His last words are said so quietly, they're nearly a whisper. He tilts his head and gives me a wry smile that never fails to cause pirouetting butterflies in my stomach. I mentally douse them with bug spray. Not the time to jump his bones. "I wonder if that is why Asmodai took his Elioud," he finishes his thought, and I bristle.

"It doesn't justify keeping her by force for years," I growl, feeling indignant on behalf of the girl I barely just got to know before she disappeared, presumed to be dead.

He winks unapologetically. "Perhaps not for you. But…" His expression sobers and he drags his hand through his messy hair. It almost looks like he's been taking better care of me than himself these days. "Caring about the safety of someone who is not as indestructible as us is maddening. When Armaros was killed, it was obvious that I had formed such attachments in the last centuries. You, pet, are more vulnerable than demons and fallen angels."

My eyebrows pop up and I take a step back, shaking my head. "So, what, you were being a dick because you wanted the attachment gone?"

"No," he refutes instantly, stepping closer and placing a hand behind my neck, preventing me from putting more distance between us. "I was a dick ." His brows lift at the insult. "Because, while I was trying to push you away for your safety, I also wanted you to fight it, to say you do not believe our lives to be less important or us incapable of caring because we lack a soul. To say you wished to stay, despite the measures I took after Armaros' death."

I sneer in his face. "You know I don't think only humans are capable of love. Or that having a soul makes them – us – more worthy. And if you thought I was going to beg you to let me stay after you acted like a total bastard, you really don't know me."

Instead of getting mad, he lifts his other hand to cup my cheek, smiling at me triumphantly. "You acted exactly the way I expected you to; walked out of my throne room with your head held high." He rubs the apple of my cheek with his thumb and peers down at me. "I apologize for causing you pain by handling my own so poorly," he adds softly.

I blink up at him. What am I supposed to say to that? I'm more used to people lashing out than admitting their faults in a conversation. I settle for evasion and joking – it's enough that one of us is being mature. "Are you going to send me home every time you have this demon menstrual syndrome?"

He gives me a knowing look, then rests his forehead on mine. "This is your home."

My eyes start burning. That's practically a declaration of love for him and I can't handle it. The air between us is charged with emotion and his eyes soften at spotting the tears in mine. "I'm copyrighting that, you know." The words rush out of me. "DMS."

Ashtaroth pulls me in and shuts me up with a deep kiss. My toes curl and I wrap my arms around his middle, pulling him closer and sucking on his tongue like I'm checking if he does have a soul inside his body after all.

He chuckles and walks backward towards the bed, pulling me with him. Once he reaches it, he lies down on his back with me atop of him. "This is a new and interesting position," I murmur while nibbling on his gorgeous lips.

He lets his arms fall back over his head in a gesture of surrender. "Have at me." He smiles. "I am at your mercy, little lamb." The way he says it makes me think he doesn't just mean for this round of bedsports.

"Hmm," I muse, pursing my lips in contemplation. "I better start from the top then."

His eyes glow with banked embers as I lean down to gently kiss first one eyelid, then the other. I can feel his thick black lashes tickling my lips and I smile before moving down to his own, where I lick once over the seam before using both of mine to suck on his upper lip. Moving over the indent under his cheekbone to his ear, I trail soft kisses over his skin, before taking his earlobe between my teeth so I can softly bite the flesh.

His soft groan makes me release a gust of air into this ear and he twitches underneath me. Moaning, I move lower and lick a path over his neck before sucking on the protrusion of his Adam's apple at the center of it. His hiss spurs me on and I sit up so I can tear open his shirt. I trail my nails from his clavicle down toward his sides, then lean over so I can take one firm nipple into my mouth, sucking on it before biting down. I can feel the pulse in the hardness pushing against me between my legs, so I repeat the process on the other side.

Scooting lower, I slowly unbuckle and open his pants as his eyes track every movement of my hands. He's breathing through his mouth in short panting breaths. He looks so hot right now, eager and impatient, that I lose what's left of my own patience, pulling his cock out and squeezing it until his head tilts back.

"Fuck," he breathes, hands lowering towards mine, until he stops himself and clenches his fists. "It's been too fucking long since I fucked you, sweetness." His voice sounds strangled from the effort it takes to hold himself back from taking over and setting the pace he wants.

"Well, you're going to wait a little bit longer, because I want that pretty dick in my mouth first," I tease, rubbing the dick in question from root to tip in slow, firm strokes.

He hisses as his cock pulses in my hand, a bead of precum gathering at the slit, tempting me to lick it off. "Damn, I need to have you on top more often. I underestimated how sinful your mouth is."

He finally wraps one of his hands around mine, making me squeeze his cock impossibly harder. I moan, both at the sight of our hands making his cockhead turn purple and at the ragged groan that comes out of his mouth.

"Let go," I whisper, then scooch lower again until I can take the glistening tip into my mouth, moaning around it as my tongue collects the salty liquid.

His fingers thread into my hair and his hips lift from the bed, making me take him in as far as the angle allows. Pumping into me a couple of times as my tongue laves as much as it can reach, he lowers back to the bed, making me release him. "Sit on my cock, pet," he pants, hands clenching the strands of my hair caught in them, making it hurt just the right amount.

I click my tongue and sit up, making him release his grip. "Bossing me around isn't letting me do what I want." He bares his teeth, the look in his eyes feral. Had he looked at me like that the first time we were in bed, I would have fainted from fright. Now it just makes me wetter, knowing he's that desperate for me. "Do you need my tight little pussy, Master?" I tease, squeezing his slick cock again.

I can feel his growl reverberate through his entire body. "I suggest you don't play with fire unless you wish to be burned."

My vision blurs as he flips us over before I can laugh. I find myself underneath my archdemon, his eyes now burning with orange flames. I gasp at the ravenous look in his eyes, and need takes control of my body, making me wrap my legs around his waist and tilting my pelvis up in demand.

He wastes no more time, placing one hand under my ass to raise my hips up further, and the other between our bodies, lining up our sexes. Still holding my gaze captive, he sheathes himself inside me with two quick thrusts. My eyes close from the uncomfortable pinch of the intrusion and his freed hand grabs hold of my chin, wordlessly commanding me to stop hiding my eyes. Once I do, he slides the hand underneath my neck, now holding both my upper and lower body steady to receive his thrusts.

When his dick is fully coated in my arousal, I tighten around him, making his breath catch. "More," I whisper, and he shakes his head. "Ash, harder," I beg, the slow and smooth slide of him not enough to satisfy the need these days of distance ignited.

"No," he murmurs, placing a soft kiss on my lips. "You will come like this." While he sounds as imperious as always, there's also a soft quality to his voice. He shifts the angle of our bodies slightly until his pelvis massages my clit with every small movement he makes.

"I can't," I practically whine, yearning for his rough touches and filthy words, the ones that never fail to push me over the edge .

Ash just rests his forehead against mine and breathes in, like a man enjoying the scent of the finest whiskey. "You will," he commands quietly, and I can feel tingles starting to build up across every inch of my skin, can smell ozone mixed in with his usual smell of warmed sugar and frosted forest.

My muscles soften and my jaw unclenches, the release of tension letting me know how strong its presence was. The sensation of his bared chest rubbing against mine, only the thin material of my nightgown between us, sends sparks from my nipples straight to my clit.

This time I tighten around his cock involuntarily and he grunts softly. "That's it," he praises, his slow and deep strokes unrelenting. "Feel me, feel us." A crack of thunder sounds outside, making me flinch with surprise.

The head of his cock is rubbing against the upper wall of my sex from the inside, and an image of how it looked in our hands, swollen and wet with his arousal, pops up in my head unbidden. I moan, the sound coming from somewhere deep inside of me.

His breathing speeds up, quick puffs of air hitting my kiss-dampened lips. "Ash," I gasp, my hands moving from around his neck to gently cradle his face.

"Mmm," he growls, the sound vibrating in his chest like a deep purr.

I feel like I'm floating on a soft cloud and the growing heat between my legs is the only thing keeping me grounded in reality. Each slide of his body over mine winds me up tighter, until I'm worried that release will feel like a rubber band snapping in my hands. I'm afraid of the sting, but unwilling to stop testing the give of the elastic.

I'm now moaning in time with his thrusts, feeling both vulnerable in my pleasure and somehow unashamed of it. Before I fully realize it's happening, my body has had enough of the teasing buildup and I scream.

"Ash!" His name on my lips sounds almost like a plea for help, and he gathers me even closer to him, tucking his head into my neck and taking the tight cords of it into his mouth .

He grunts savagely into my flesh and I can feel his cock pulsing inside me. Wetness from both of us slides out from me, dripping into the crack of my ass.

As if he feels it as well, he reaches between us again, gathers it on his fingers, and, circling the rim with the wetness once, then again, pushes one of them into my other opening. I'm so relaxed I don't even tense up, but the sensation makes me gasp, my pussy continuing to flutter over his spent cock.

Once my heartbeat starts slowing down, I sigh contentedly into Ash's hair. "You didn't let me have control for very long," I complain halfheartedly.

"Hmm," he muses, lifting his head enough to look at me. Smiling at the state I must be in, he kisses me and then whispers in my ear. "Perhaps in a few decades."