Moaning fills my ears. A male throaty sound of growing satisfaction. Vision clearing, I take in the luxurious bedroom. Behind gossamer thin netting, two males are in the middle of an intimate act on the bed. Perfectly sculpted muscles tensing and straining, the familiar of the two lays flat on his back. Eyes closed in bliss, head tipped back on the plush pillows, his horns are visible through the mess of chestnut hair. The beads dandling from one sways with his movements.

Fingers tangled in his locks, Tiberius urges his companion’s lips wrapped eagerly around his cock. Writhing as his lover sucks and bobs, bringing him to orgasm, a primal shuddering groan escaping him.

How did I get here?

Shadows. They’d enclosed me. Spirited me away when I’d been desperate to leave. Head pounding with emotions, they combust inside me.

Fuck the Devil.

Fuck his rules.

Fuck his game. I feel sick at the depths of his perfectly tailored deception.

“Mavi?”

Soft, concerned, the voice drags me from my pain. Sarong tied around his lean hips covering his modesty, Tiberius watches me from the edge of the bed. Dressing quickly, his friend leaves us with a curt nod. From his attitude, I’m guessing I have effectively cock-blocked them when they had planned for more.

“What happened? How did you get here?”

I don’t even know where here is. Dazed, I scan the room again. Cool, airy, it’s a place belonging to someone of wealth.

“I don’t know. There was pressure in my head. Everything was compacting and then it stopped.”

Tremors racking through my hand, I slip my gun away. Fuck, how he reminds me of Caesar. The same expression whenever he was worried. Voice gruff, yet filled with a wealth of feelings. How I need my friend right now. He’d always been one to guide me, bringing calmness and reason.

Throat thickening with tears, they spill unhindered down the curve of my cheeks. I’m so tired of being played with. I no longer know what’s real or illusion. The world has flipped upside down beneath my feet. Love has made me a prisoner of longing and something I now know I can never have. There’s only one choice left open. Remove myself from the board so I can no longer be an expendable pawn.

“I have to get out of here.”

Easing up off the mattress, Tiberius treads towards me with a disarming gait. “Take it easy.”

“No, you don’t understand. He won’t let me go.”

“Lucifer?”

I nod. The Devil is damaged, unstable, and unpredictable. I’m on his most wanted list and I’m not holding out hope he’ll ever leave me be. Everything is shattering and it’s my mistake for allowing him near me again. Beneath his mask of sensual delight, he was planning my death, and where to dispose of the body all while we were fucking.

“Tell me what you need and its yours,” Tiberius assures.

Shaking my head, I back up into a corner. “I can’t drag you into this shitty mess.”

“Do not think you can brush off my help so easily. You were not Caesar’s blood, but you were family, so that makes you mine.”

“Lucifer won’t show any mercy if you do,” I warn.

Gently taking my elbow, he ushers me towards a table. “He owes me a boon. I can use that to my advantage. You, on the other hand, will also face his wrath if you are truly running like I suspect.”

Curving an arm protectively around my belly, I know he’s right. I’ve never seen the full might of Lucifer’s ire. Never witnessed him unleash his full potential. The thought of it turned on me sends dread straight to my marrow.

Sinking down into a chair at his request, I slip the holster from my shoulder, leaving it on the surface, but within easy reach. “I need to use your portal to get back to Earth and I can take it from there.”

Trusting Gabriel is out of the question. For this, I will have to go at it alone, slinking away to some remote sanctuary where neither Heaven or Hell can touch me. A place I can raise my daughter alone. It will mean more protection than I’ve ever sought out before. Yet, I know I am more than capable of laying waste to anyone who tries to take her from me.

“I will escort you there personally.” Lifting a bejewelled jug, he fills a cup with water before gesturing me to accept. “I also have something for you.”

Padding across the space, Tiberius kneels beside a chest. I watch the ripple of muscles across his back as he moves. He’s more of a warrior than Caesar was. Then again, his speciality was creating weapons.

Gulping thirstily, I drown the pang of guilt and sorrow. Rising, he swivels back, a sword scabbard held in his grip.

The angel blade.

Last time I saw this weapon it was being cleaved through my neck. Foreboding trickles down my spine, but I ignore it.

“Where did you get this?”

“Scavengers picked the battlefield you fought in clean. They sell anything they find of value throughout the seven Hell dimensions and this came to my attention. Now I am returning it to its rightful owner and giving you the protection you need.”

A means to keep angels and the Devil himself at bay. Maybe fate is done screwing me and sent me some luck instead.

“Markaz is the craftiest of all the Devil’s generals. He has the gift of possession.”

A bout of fatigue sweeps through me. “As in demonic possession?” I ask, stifling a yawn.

“Very similar, but far more potent.” Tiberius explains gravely, sauntering towards me. “He has the ability to inhabit the bodies of his bloodline. It’s how he’s eluded death for so long. His strength has always been to persuade others to do his dirty work while he remains safely aside.”

Wooziness comes out of nowhere. Head spinning, I grab the table to steady myself. Realization is raw and stark.

“What was in the water, Tiberius?” Tongue heavy, I can barely make out the words.

“A harmless sedative.”

I’ve let my guard down. Let my guilt lead me to a fatal error. I was stupid enough to think he was honourable because of his previous actions. Fuck, that was a mistake.

Reaching for my gun, my hand never finds the weapon as he pulls it clear. Groping blindly, legs giving out, I slide off the chair to hit the floor. Tiberius stands over me, the holster in his grip.

“W…why?” I whisper, looking up at his passive expression swimming before my eyes.

“Because it is time.”

The world around me slips into a blur of movement and sounds.

“This will be intensely unpleasant for you, Mavi. Forgive me, but there is no other way.”

Head lolling onto a shoulder as I’m lifted by strong arms, everything fades in and out.

Waking from my black out, soft chanting beckons me to consciousness. Male voices are entwined in unison speaking a language I don’t understand. Cold, hard, smooth stone is pressed against my naked back. I try to speak, but nothing comes out. Silence escapes my mouth.

Light from burning torches pierce the dimness of the unfamiliar cavernous room. The scent of exotic incense tickles my nose. I recognize it for what it is. A ritual. I’m to be the unwilling sacrifice. Chills crawling over my naked limbs, I struggle fruitlessly in my bonds. Figures swim into my vision. A procession of shadowy robes. As their song rises higher they sway with the rhythm.

Silver gleams. The blade of a ceremonial knife. It’s owner hovers ominously between my parted thighs, face hidden from view by the fall of a thick hood. Tiberius? Or someone else he’s sold me out to?

Fear tightening through my chest, I fight with frantic movements to free myself, twisting and entangling in my chains further.

A firm hand settles over my swollen stomach and everything becomes clear in my scrambled mind.

My baby. These fuckers intend to take her.

Shooting the bastard a glare, every instinct scream’s this is the ring leader of this shit show. The chanting escalates, words quickening with an insidious purpose. Panicked, my breath quickens with my racing heart. Yanking on the bindings, my ankles and wrists bleed from the cut of the metal. There is nothing but terror in my foggy thoughts. No song of darkness, just a weakness that saps my strength.

Agonizing, cruel, the slice of the knife slides easily through the flesh of my abdomen. There is no escape. The pain chokes me, blotting out everything but the sensation. Wet, warm, I know it’s blood pouring down my sides as I’m carved open like a fattened calf.

Muscles arched, straining, I bare it all, my silent screams unable to voice my torment. The chanting never wavers, covered heads raise their hands in perverted praise. As their climax reaches its pinnacle a cry breaks through my suffering.

Through dazed eyes I focus on the tiny pink form smeared in red and mucus held in the priest’s hands high above his head.

They have her. Ripped her straight from my womb. Sobbing in anger and futile helplessness, tears pour down my cheeks, soaking my skin.