Legion fucks me like a man possessed. Like a man who’s shed his skin and let his inner beast claw its way out and take the reins of his body and soul.
My moans are muffled by the bedspread to the point of being suffocating. But every time I lift my head to gulp in air or even turn to get a glimpse of him, he pushes my face back down. As if he doesn’t want me to see him. As if he’s so far gone that he’s afraid I won’t recognize him.
He gathers my wrists in his hands and secures them behind me, using his hold to ride me harder and deeper with every stroke. With his fire branding my insides and his touch searing my skin, I’m lost to him. Utterly lost and helpless under his control. Part of me is afraid at the rough way he fucks me, without an ounce of tenderness, but the carnal part of me is so turned on that our wet slaps of drenched flesh can be heard echoing even over my tortured mewls and moans.
I come so powerfully and tragically that my knees buckle beneath me. But even with me calling out his name, begging for him to ease his assault on my sagging body, he doesn’t stop. If anything, he gives it to me harder and grips my wrists even tighter, ensuring that I can’t get away. I try to keep steady, but as pleasure merges into pain, my sex-clouded brain begins to sober. He’s not going to stop. Even as I beg him to, even as I cry out for him to let me go, he doesn’t even seem to register that I exist.
His hands are bands of molten steel around my wrists as his cock spears me faster and deeper, slicing me open with every thrust. I understand being caught up in the moment, but something about this is wrong. He feels wrong. And the fact that he won’t stop, no matter that my tears are no longer tears of ecstasy, is just so fucking wrong.
“Oh God. Please,” I rasp, my voice hoarse from screaming. I have no more strength within me to fight him off. I’m completely powerless to him. “Please let me go.”
Then as if he’s been blasted by an unseen energy, his body is ripped away from mine, and he’s thrown across the room with enough force to shatter one of the wardrobes into splinters. I spin around, pulling the comforter around my naked, sore body, just as he stands. Legion’s eyes are wide with terror, and the color has drained from his face. He opens his pale, dry lips to speak, but his wild gaze says it all.
That wasn’t him.
“Eden,” he manages to croak. “Eden, I’m sorry. I…”
I shake my head. There’s nothing he can possibly say that can make this okay. There’s nothing he can do to make us okay. We both know it. This isn’t just another crack in our already fractured relationship. It’s a crater as wide and deep as the darkest pits of Hell.
With tear-filled eyes, I watch as Legion rights his clothing and exits the bedroom, closing the door behind him. As soon as he’s out of sight, I release all the fear, pain, and humiliation that had been strangling me since he had lost control. In chest heaving sobs, I cry into the satin comforter, hating him for hurting me. Hating myself for lying there helpless, too caught up in his violent frenzy to fight him off. I don’t know what any of this means, but I know, undoubtedly, that he could have done much worse. He could have killed me tonight, and if he hadn’t come back to me, he would have.
Now the question is, who’s to blame? Legion? Or the twisted fuck within that possessed his soul and stole him away?
I don’t know how long I lay there and cry, my naked body covered in the scent of his sweat and sex. But when I finally look up, I see that I have an audience. Reeling back, I gasp audibly and clutch the covers against my chest tighter, hoping that I haven’t exposed any more skin than has already been on display. I don’t know how long he’s been sitting there casually reclining, one leg bent with his ankle resting on his knee. But he knows what happened. I can see the pity dimming his star-flecked violet eyes.
“How…how did you get in here?” There’s no way he came through the door. I would have heard it, even over my sobs.
“I tried to warn you,” Lucifer mutters, ignoring my question. “I thought we had more time—at least until the threat had passed. I should have been here.”
“You knew this would happen?” My voice cracks, still raw with emotion.
Lucifer shakes his head. “The wayward souls are full of malice and resentment. They feed off the anguish and misery of others. It fuels them. And Legion’s resistance only entices them to torture him more.”
“But you knew he would get like this. You knew he would turn into a monster.” And he let it happen anyway. Not only that, he set it up. He wanted Legion to become what he once was.
“Eden, I don’t think you understand. What happened tonight…what you saw… That was nothing.”
“Nothing? Nothing?” I scoff. “He…he…” I don’t even know what he did. And even if I could describe it, I certainly wouldn’t be able to say it out loud. Not to Lucifer.
“He is what he is. What you pretend not to see. A savage. A killer. A demon. I’ll admit, I relied on shock value during your short stay in my realm. But Legion…this isn’t for show. This isn’t a game to see how far he can push your boundaries. It’s who he is.”
He climbs to his feet, his movements lithe, yet there’s an unexpected tension that’s set in his shoulders and along his defined, chiseled jawline. He strides to the bed and sits before me, close enough that the scent of deadly belladonna nearly eclipses the remnants of sex lingering on my skin. With him here—in my bedroom, on my bed, with only a rumpled comforter shielding my naked body—I feel uneasy. Nervous. Scared, but not frightened of him per se. Just anxious of his mere presence.
“Eden,” he begins, those twin glimmering galaxies searching my face before finally settling on my mouth. “I never wanted this for you.”
“I know. You wanted me dead.”
He nods solemnly. “I did at first, but only because I knew what Uriel was capable of. I didn’t know you. And once I did… Well, the damage had already been done. Adriel had already found you. It would only be a matter of time before the Se7en found you too.”
“And they would do your dirty work.”
He shrugs. “Better them than me. Uriel is a prick, but he’s a resourceful prick. If he had a plan for you, I wasn’t about to be the one to foil it. But I would not have allowed you to be hurt. That I can promise you.”
But he did. He stood by and watched me suffer at the hands of my mother. Hungry, dirty, and forgotten, I was left to perish before I’d even learned how to tie my shoes. And when I failed to die from my mother’s neglect, she took things into her own hands.
And Lucifer did nothing.
So many nights I lay awake, silently praying for someone to take me away from the cruel reality of my life. So many nights I had hoped for someone to care—to just give a damn—enough about me to check in with us. They would have seen that she was sick, her mind corroded by drug use and hysteria, just as Uriel had wanted. And I could have known something other than the rot and ruin, dread and destruction that I had believed was my birthright.
And still, Lucifer did nothing.
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
Lucifer works his sensual mouth, searching for the right words, and I’m hit with the memory of his lips on mine just hours ago. But when he speaks, his tone is sharp. “It’s supposed to make you understand. Yes, your life was shitty, but you survived, just as I knew you would. Just as it was prophesized.”
Prophesized? Why would my existence be worth prophesizing?
Before I can ask him to clarify, he pushes off from the bed. I notice shadows around his eyes as he looks down at me.
“This will not kill you. It will hurt you, yes, but it won’t destroy you. He doesn’t have that power.”
I don’t have the heart to ask him if he’s referring to Uriel. Or Legion.
I cast my gaze down to my knotted fingers clutching the comforter around my naked breasts. But when I look up, Lucifer is gone, stealthily leaving the way he came. I’m left wondering if he was ever truly here. Or maybe his presence was merely a figment of my imagination, a conjured comfort in the midst of my desperate sorrow. Either way, I can’t deny the truth that’s staring me down: I was glad he was here. And I was glad Legion was not.
I fall into a fitful sleep soon after, my dreams just fragments of color and flashes of light. When I wake, still exhausted, I drag my weary body past the wreckage of my wardrobe to the bath to soak and scrub the night before off my skin. My face is still streaked with melted makeup and salted tear trails, my eyes bloodshot and puffy. I don’t know what happened last night. I don’t even know who it was that was holding me down and fucking me. And now that I’ve slept on it, I feel an overwhelming sense of disgust—at the violation and for finding a semblance of pleasure in the violence. I trusted Legion with my body, and even though he had no control, he betrayed that trust. I don’t know how we come back from that. And until he deals with the demons wreaking havoc from within, I don’t know if we should.
I don’t bother with makeup, and barely have enough energy to pull my hair into a messy bun before dressing down in the first casual garments I can find. My appearance truly matches the darkness in my soul. I look drab. Tired. But after what happened the night before at the masquerade party, I can’t afford the luxury of hiding out in my room and crying into my pillow like some heartbroken teenager. Now more than ever, it’s evident that I have to be trained and ready. So if that means shelving my current crisis and slapping on some manufactured confidence, that’s what I’ll do.
But all of that steely resolve vanishes the moment I step into the gym and every soul—demon, angel, or otherwise—stops and turns to stare, ceasing all prior activity.
I’m used to getting funny looks—that’s never bothered me before. But this is different. And they’re not gazing at me with expressions of curiosity or even disdain. I read pity in their eyes. Confusion. Shock. As if they lived that moment with me in my bedroom as Legion relinquished control to the darkest, most devious parts of himself. As if they felt that same pain that pierced straight into my heart when I realized that I wasn’t strong enough to help him fight those demons. That I wasn’t enough to make him fight for us. They know. They must all know. And how pathetic I must be for feeling grateful that he isn’t here right now, bearing witness to their judgment. Even now, I want to save him, when last night was a clear indication that I can’t.
“Eden?” Lilith’s voice is soft, and it almost startles me as she slowly approaches. “How are you?”
I try to manage a casual shrug, but I can’t fake it. “Ok.”
“Have…have you heard anything?”
I frown. “From who?”
Lilith mimics my expression. “No one’s told you?”
“Told me what?”
“Legion…he’s…gone.”
I can feel the blood drain from my face as I read the hurt etched in hers. “What?”
“He left…sometime late last night. We don’t know where he is. We can’t track him. We can’t even…feel…him. He’s gone.” She looks around the gym, her gaze landing on the remaining members of the Se7en. “We’re going out to find him. He would never leave us without at least discussing it. Something must be wrong.”
Something is wrong, I want to say, but the words catch in my rapidly tightening throat.
I should have known something was up when Cain wasn’t dutifully sitting at my sister’s side this morning. Instead, he’s here, with his brothers and sister, regarding me with a glimmer of skepticism in his black eyes. Maybe they don’t know what went down between Legion and me last night, but I’m sure at least Cain suspects something. Especially if they know what happened with Lucifer at the party. Maybe they think I’m to blame. Maybe they think that kiss sparked a raging darkness inside Legion. And honestly, I wouldn’t be able to dispute that, not when I experienced that darkness for myself.
“We’re training one last time before we leave. We don’t know what we’ll come up against,” Lilith says.
“I’m coming with you.”
She hesitates before she nods in response. “Adriel, Nikolai, and Lucifer have agreed to join us. Are you sure you’re ready?”
Truth be told, I’ll never be ready for what’s to come. There’s no way you can prepare for what’s meant to be your execution.
But still, I lie. To her, and to myself. Because the truth is just too painful to admit, even within the prison of my own mind.
“Yes.”