Chapter 3

CHAPTER3

Uh-oh.Inwardly, I cringed. What were the chances that this was going to be a pleasant chat for a change?

My brain helpfully supplied C3PO’s voice doing his statistical calculation of a rather depressing outcome, and I muttered, “Never tell me the odds.”

“What was that?” Inachiel looked puzzled.

“Nothing.” I gave him a shaky smile and perched my butt on the settee. I should really stop with the pop culture references. A lot of these demons didn’t get them, which only made conversations with them more awkward.

“I must say,” Inachiel began, plucking a grape from the cluster on the vine, “Azazel truly seems quite happy with you, despite the fact that you tricked him into a contract.”

Ughhhh. That thing again. I would never live that down, would I? These demons would be harping on until the end of time about that ill-fated séance where I unwittingly locked Azazel into a marriage contract. And I still didn’t know how I’d even done it!

I restrained from rolling my eyes. Manners, Zoe. Manners. It was so hard not to let my irritation show, not to wipe that smug smirk off Inachiel’s face with a well-deserved punch. More and more, I was getting these aggressive urges to settle any and all conflicts with violence. Seemed like living among demons was rubbing off on me—they all too often resorted to physical fighting to sort out differences. Brutal, yes, but also efficient. Much like among pack animals like wolves, challenges and questions of hierarchy were decided with a quick tussle, flashing teeth and blood and all. But hey, afterward, things were settled.

Problem was, of course, that I wasn’t in the position to challenge anyone. Aside from the fact that I couldn’t go around beating up all those demons on friendly terms with Azazel because it would cause one diplomatic kerfuffle after the other, if I started a fight over some perceived slight, I’d lose. I simply wasn’t physically or magically strong enough to take on a half-blood, let alone a demon of full power.

I held a rank equal to a third-generation demon of two thousand five hundred years, but I had nothing to show for it, no way to enforce my status on my own. It rankled.

And not just me. I could see it on Inachiel’s face, behind his thin mask of pretend politeness. How it angered him that he had to treat me with the courtesy and respect reserved for someone who’d fought and bled for their rank, who’d earned this position over centuries of hard work.

His displeasure became clearer with his next words. “It was quite brave of him, was it not,” he said, his tone all genteel benevolence despite the message, “to claim you officially even when presented with a gracious solution to his predicament. Granted, some might say it wasn’t a brave move so much as it was a folly.”

With a slow, consuming wave, heat flowed through my body, all the way up into my face. My nostrils flared.

“Not me, of course.” Inachiel sent me a dazzling smile, a pretty ornament on a shit tree. “Others may deem his actions brazen; I say he’s daring. How dauntlessly dashing to flaunt the rules we live by!” He made an honest-to-Hell chef’s kiss gesture to underscore his point. “You should know I’m all in favor of foolish love. I find it quaint, a recklessly romantic ideal in a world that is often too harsh. You love him truly, don’t you?”

I swallowed the bitter bite of sizzling anger and pricked pride and answered in the only way I could. “I do.”

Inachiel sighed and laid a hand over his heart. “Ah, how precious. And with a true bond like yours, I’m sure you two can wither any adverse effects of his decision to claim you.”

He plucked another grape and plopped it into his mouth, his eyes twinkling as he waited for me to take the bait.

I didn’t. Like Hell would I make his taunting any easier.

Leaning forward a bit, he lowered his voice to a confidential murmur. “Rest assured, my dear, that I do not participate in the gossip that many of the others like to trade in. Seeing as Azazel is a valued ally of mine, I would not want to pour fuel on the fire that is burning the edges of his reputation.” With the hint of a sly smile, he ate another grape. “And I am sure that, in time, his decision to bond with a human and grace her with titles beyond her worth will stop costing him allies. I have all the confidence that he will recover from this perceived defect in character and repair his standing over the next few centuries.”

Something hard lodged in my chest, pulling down with a weight that made me struggle for breath. A corrosive kind of hurt spread out from my heart.

“Your company really is enchanting,” Inachiel said as he took a sip from his drink. “I have no idea where the others get their impression from.”

My pulse pounded in my head.

Dark energy brushed up against my back a second before I heard Azazel’s deep voice in my head. Are you all right, love?

Out loud, he said from where he’d come to stand behind my settee, “May I offer you some more amrit, Inachiel?”

“Thank you,” our guest said with a genial smile. “That would be lovely.”

“Certainly.” Azazel waved a demon waiter down for the drink order, then he laid his hand on my shoulder, his thumb stroking up against the skin of my neck. Zoe?

I’m fine, I sent back along our mental pathway. I steeled the shields within my mind that would keep my thoughts and feelings private, and tried not to let my mental voice show the strain on my emotions. Raising my hand to clasp with his, I squeezed his fingers. Just feeling the growing need to recharge my introvert batteries with a week of alone time.

He chatted out loud with Inachiel, taking over the conversation much to my relief, and after a moment he mentally responded, Not much longer. This will wind down soon.

If only there was a polite way to compliment guests out of the house. I’d once gone with Taylor to visit her relatives in the Midwest, and apparently, folks over there had this brilliant method of signaling when it was time for guests to leave by slapping their own thighs, saying, “Well!” really forcefully and then standing up. Guests would then respond with a “We should head out” and the party would break up. Easy peasy.

I’d tried that method down here once. Everybody had looked at me like I was a circus animal about to perform a trick.

Not an experience I wanted to repeat.

Fortunately, Azazel stuck to my side for the remainder of the party, which spared me more slights from our honored guests. They always did behave when he was right next to me. Fucking cowards.

Unfortunately, before winding down, the party first kicked up a notch. Several of the demons present decided it was time to get down to business in a very much not business-y way. I’m not sure what came first, the change in music from chill and relaxed to slow and sensual and throbbing with an erotic beat, or the free-spirited shedding of clothes and tangling of limbs.

In any case, though, I found myself sitting next to Azazel—currently talking with another one of Inachiel’s demons—while the room around us fell more and more into a lustful frenzy. Left and right, demons peeled each other out of their clothes, moans and sighs rose in the air, mingling with the suggestive rhythm of the music.

Like I said, there really wasn’t much else to do in Hell other than fighting, fucking or frying.

The change in mood started to affect me. My breath came a tad faster, my skin felt too tight and hot, and my pulse beat low in my core. I pressed my thighs together and shifted on the cushion.

Right in front of me, behind the divan on which the demon lounged that Azazel was talking to, a couple was very busy testing the sturdiness of their chair. The female’s hips rose up and down as she straddled her partner, who clutched her bare ass, his fingers digging into her cheeks.

I tried—and failed—to keep my eyes off them, my face flaming hot. It’s not that I was a prude, or that sex embarrassed me. If I’d had any such inhibition, living in Hell for a year sure would have disabused me of that notion.

No, the problem was that watching others go at it right in front of me—all of them unfairly beautiful and attractive—kicked my own libido through the stratosphere and made me want to climb Azazel right then and there, audience be damned. I’d likely regret putting on a show for everyone later, but in those moments, when the scent of sex hung heavy in the air, when the erotic drums of the music mixed with the arousing sounds of flesh slapping on flesh, moans and grunts and pleas for more, when all I could see was sweat-slicked skin and intimate caresses…the onslaught of impressions short-circuited my brain, transforming me into a quivering puddle of lust barely held together by my own skin.

Azazel’s heated gaze met my own just as he gently plucked my hands off his waistband, where I’d begun to open his pants. I hadn’t even been conscious of doing that. Damn orgy hijacking my brain.

Best save that for later, lustful little human, Azazel purred in my head while he kept up the casual conversation he held with the demon across from us, his skill of multitasking on enviable levels.

Lucky for me, my darling demon managed a lot better than me to keep a cool head during this deluge of erotic impressions. He differed from his fellow demons in quite a few key aspects, not the least of which was that he did not like to indulge in intimacy in front of others. Something I normally agreed with, when my senses weren’t momentarily overwhelmed by all the sounds, sights, and smells of this panoramic aphrodisiac all around us. Which was the reason I truly appreciated his level of control that kept me from making a spectacle of myself at these parties.

Much to his benefit—both of ours, really—the arousing effect of witnessing an orgy lasted well beyond the departure of our guests, and Azazel always took care to “help” me work off all the pent-up lust.

Needless to say, the end of these gatherings was my favorite part.

Later, I repeated mentally, pressing my lips together. Right. Yes. Later.

Azazel smirked and patiently removed my hand from where I’d just cupped his hard cock through the fabric of his pants—again. Do I have to cuff you?

His teasing murmur in my head only made the entire situation worse because right now, the prospect of him restraining me poured oil on the fire burning me up from the inside. I squirmed in my seat.

Azazel’s eyes flashed. Later, then. A silken sensual promise that made me shiver.

A torturously long time later, we finally watched Inachiel and his entourage leave through the massive double door of the entrance hall. The deep metallic bang of the doors falling shut reverberated in my bones, the vibration stirring the barely banked throb of desire between my legs.

For a moment, everything was silent, the hush before a storm. The light of the torches danced over the walls, glinting off the black feathers of the numerous ripped-off wings hung up there as trophies. I hardly flinched anymore when I saw them.

Azazel spoke without turning to me, his voice holding a quiet threat. “Twenty-five.”

“What?” I glanced at him, my pulse ticking fast.

He cast me a look from underneath his dark lashes, a glint in his eyes. “Twenty-four.”

I jolted. “You mean—”

“You’re wasting time you could use running,” he said in a low rumble that caused goosebumps on my arms and tightened my nipples. “Twenty-three. When I catch you, I’ll burn that dress off your body and take you right there, and I don’t care if that’s in the middle of a hallway. Twenty-two. So if you want to make it to our rooms before I fuck you, you better get those feet moving. Twenty-one.”

I gasped. “That’s not fair! You know I can’t outrun you.”

“That’s why I’m giving you a generous headstart. Twenty.”

“Generous, my ass,” I hissed, but I ditched my heels, wheeled around and ran as if said ass was on fire. Because if that deviant demon caught me, it would be.