Chapter One
Colt
Somewhere in Hell…
A horrendous repetitive beat bounces off the walls of the Inner Circle Club. A pulsing red light keeps time with the techno rhythm. Scantily clad bodies gyrate up against each other while demons have sex in dark corners. Alcohol flows freely from the bar taking up one side of the room. The intermingling scents of cologne and pheromones wrinkle my nose. Someone needs to tell these wretches that bathing yourself in fragrance doesn’t get rid of the ever-present stench of brimstone. It only makes it worse.
There’s a party going on—there’s always a party—for the group of incubi I first roomed with when I arrived in Hell. These demons will be some of the worst man-whores to set foot on Earth. Besides, being irritating metrosexuals (and this comes from someone who has his own metrosexual tendencies)—hogging mirrors and stealing each other’s clothes—their task is despicable. They’ll forge relationships, get human females pregnant, and then abandon the women when it’s too late to abort the demon spawn. The women are always left wondering how it happened—after all, birth control was used. Here’s a news flash for any human listening in: man-made medications and devices can’t stop demon sperm.
I notice two incubi—one with dark hair and the other a ginger—locking lips up against a wall. It’s fucking hot watching them go at it. Honestly, they’ve been into each other ever since I arrived. When I walked in on them in bed, though, I requested a new room assignment. There are some things that shouldn’t be done, or heard, around others. Grandfather said those two won’t be going up anytime soon. I consider them to be lucky. They’ll get to continue enjoying each other, forging a relationship together, but they’re breaking the first rule of Lilin—incubi aren’t supposed to fall in love with each other.
“Colt! You made it!”
The familiar female voice grabs my attention. Taking a deep breath, I turn toward her. “Hi, Mother. I’m not staying for long.”
My mother’s manipulative ways got both of us cast down here. If I hadn’t listened to her, I wouldn’t have kidnapped Qadira. Although my family wanted to let the matter slide, the djinniyah’s family wasn’t so pliant. They demanded retribution for my behavior.
A radiant smile takes over my mother’s face. She absolutely loves it here. I suspect her exuberance is because she’s away from Father. Usually, she’s an uptight female with perfectly coiffed hair and dressed in a rigid suit. Her curly black hair hangs wildly around her shoulders, and she’s wearing jeans. Mother is having fun—something I’ve never witnessed.
“Don’t be so grumpy all the time, Colt. Think of this as a vacation. Your exile will be over soon enough, and you’ll be back at home.”
Not a moment I care to think about. Forcing a smile, I say, “I’m headed to the lounge.”
“Have fun,” she says and goes back to dancing with an unfamiliar demon.
One thing Mother has right is my punishment is nearly over. Good thing, because I’ve lost all my bearings. It could be another day or another night. Who the fuck knows? Markers of time aren’t customary in this inferno. I’ve spent every waking moment doing nothing more than staring at poor souls while wishing for something more. A party isn’t what I’m searching for, and neither is the pallid figure making her way toward me.
Gorgyra. A follower of Hecate.
“Nice to see you again,” she says in a raspy voice. A thin hand reaches up and pushes a strand of licorice-black hair from her face.
I won’t lie to her. It’s never nice to see one of the Lampades. “Why aren’t you working?”
“Orphne is covering for me. I wanted to see who’s going upstairs. I might want to keep one or two for myself.”
There’s an unnerving thought. The Mazrel twins, thanks to some agreement Cash Martin made with the sisters, had to service the torch bearers for a whole week. Gorgyra and Orphne kept Alec and Dante locked in a room for their entire stay. I saw them right before they returned to Falls Creek.
“Hey, Alec. Dante. What are you doing down here?” Although I was happy to see my friends, I didn’t like the idea of their being in Hell too.
The identical twin brothers glared at me.
Alec’s bright blue eyes blazed as he ran a hand through his short blond hair. “This is Cash’s fault. If you see him, you let him know we’re looking for him.”
“We’re gonna kick his ass for every damned day we had to fuck those creatures,” Dante grumbled.
The twins walked away with great difficulty.
I had no words. It was common knowledge that Cash was now an employee of Grandfather’s. The one thing nobody knows, however, is that nothing happens to those who work for Ashmedai. He keeps them well-protected.
The memory brings to mind the constant screaming I heard from their chambers. It was nonstop agony for the twins. At one point, I swore I heard them begging for help. An unpleasant situation even for demons.
I go over to the bar where a necromancer serves up drinks with great flare. He spins around and tosses a bottle in the air, catches it, and pour out the contents. The dark-skinned male bops his head in time with the music as he slides to a stop in front of me.
“What’ll it be tonight, Prince?”
“Please don’t call me that.” I don’t relish the title I’ve inherited—Prince of Hell. One day this will be my kingdom, but I don’t want it. “Whiskey neat.”
The bartender grabs a bottle and pours me a generous portion. I thank him, take my glass, and make my way to the back of the room.
Personally, I abhor all of this. Standing at the edge of the crowd, I take one more look before opening the solid door behind me. Once it’s closed, the music becomes a dull thud and I find a little peace. Who would have thought I’d find solace in the VID—Very Important Demon—lounge? It’s either this place or back in my room though. Most demons don’t get their own space. I’m fortunate my grandfather, Ashmedai, moved me.
A couple makes out in one corner of the room. Taking my drink, I sit down on a too plush black sofa. Finally, alone with my thoughts. Not that I need it. Since being here, I’ve had too much time to think. Maybe if I had chosen to come here, I’d enjoy myself. Debauchery abounds in this place. All sorts of decadence can be had. Without the need to replenish energy, though, fucking in Hell is simply sex for pleasure. Unfortunately, I haven’t found any.
Even the ironies of Hell haven’t been delightful. Back on Earth, humans attach themselves to TV shows about other humans surviving great odds. If it were possible to televise Hell, would they watch? After all, this place is the ultimate game of survival. Every minute of every hour, for all of eternity, souls try to survive the depths of Hell—violent winds without shelter, icy piles of slush to climb with other souls, and the great river Styx where souls try to avoid drowning in its eternal muddy depths. Each level brings a new challenge.
Demons normally find great pleasure in watching human souls fail. My lot—yes, Lilin are demons too—don’t get to partake in the survivor courses. We get to torment souls. Every. Single. Day. Every. Single. Night. I’m surrounded by those who get their kicks out of shredding peace of mind. Males get hard-ons while females cream their panties with every defeat handed to a soul.
Not me.
As a royal, I write my dance card. Partying, endless sex, or supreme torture… I could do it all, but I don’t want it. None of it. I’ve had my fill of constant fucking and drinking. Rarely do I get satisfied with either endeavor, anyway. As far as torture goes… It’s not for me.
I place my untouched drink on the table in front of me.
Before coming here, my relentless father introduced me to his version of Hades. His continuous torture helped me lose my taste for inflicting misery upon others. I’m his version of a fucking failure. Unfortunately, there are days I’m inclined to agree with him.
The door opens and lets in the music along with a handsome figure—black, shoulder-length hair and brilliant cornflower blue eyes. His beauty radiates like golden rays. He presents a distraction I can appreciate. In so many ways. My cock stiffens.
“Mind if I join you?” he asks.
I’m about to say no when I notice the set of magnificent black wings behind him. His full lips curl up into a smile. This isn’t the first time our paths have crossed, but it’s the first time I’ve seen his wings.
A member of the fallen or dark angel?
How did I miss that?
Sitting down and spreading his wings around us, he says, “You didn’t miss anything. I just got these. I’m a dark angel. Consider me safe.”
Safe?
Since I’ve been here, this being has been my torment. Tempting me. Daring me from a distance. What the fuck is his name?
“You’ve forgotten my name?” He runs a finger down my arm. “Theseon. No need to tell me yours. Everyone knows you.”
“Sorry. I suck with names,” I admit. It’s always been a problem for me.
“It’s not my name I wish for you to suck,” he says suggestively. “These are my last hours in Hell. Help me celebrate. When we’re done, you’ll never forget Hellfire.”
“Hellfire? You think highly of yourself.”
He moves closer and whispers in my ear. “Everyone who gets a taste of my cock never forgets. You’ll be branded for life. Hellfire.”
Oh shit. My jeans are uncomfortably tight. His offer is too tempting, but I just can’t. It’s a matter of principle for me.
Theseon’s onyx wings rustle. “Maybe your principles need to change.” His gaze drops to my crotch. “You can’t deny you’re interested.”
“Not the point.” My rule has nothing to do with Theseon personally. It’s an issue with his kind in general.
If he had been created from light, then this male would be forbidden territory. There’s always a chance that a fallen angel might seek redemption and return to soar in the heavens. Dark angels, however, are a different breed. Belched from the fiery depths, they have no allegiance to the heavenly realm.
Either way, I’ll never taste this dangerous fruit. I simply don’t do angels. The connection is the definition of sarcasm—demon does angel. Sounds like a bad porn plot. But still… I am in Hell and so is he. It’s not like I’m going to broadcast my exploits.
“You don’t know what you’re missing. When it comes to pleasures of the flesh, I do excel. After I’ve fucked you, you’ll be wishing for your own pair of wings.”
“I’ll pass,” I say, with a touch of regret. If I give in, I might lose my chance to return to Falls Creek. Like I said, I’m not ready to assume my position as ruler of Hell. Besides, I can only imagine the rumors—the Prince of Hell was fucked by an angel of temptation. Not good.
“Too bad.” His deep, rich voice wraps around me like an embrace.
Too bad indeed. His sculpted muscles make his black T-shirt look like a second skin. I’m reconsidering when the door opens again and that voice drifts in.
“Colt! Colt! There you are. I’ve been looking for you everywhere…” Her voice drones on.
She is just one of many females Grandfather paraded before me with the hope of making me happy. Unfortunately, I gave in and fucked her. Ended up with a bad case of friction burns and a raging headache. She won’t shut up. She can’t. Even a dick in her mouth didn’t shut her up. She tried to talk around it. A muffled sound I hope never to hear again.
As a human, she thought she didn’t need to listen to anyone but herself. Now, she’ll spend eternity listening to her own endless voice. Unfortunately, it’s also torture for anyone left in a room with her—non-stop chatter all day and night.
How the hell did she get in here?
“Time for me to go,” I say to the dark angel.
“Another time.” He shoots me a sexy grin before I leave.
Unfortunately, the condemned chatterbox follows me from the lounge and out the front door of the club. The changelings keeping guard cover their ears with their hands. That explains everything. She literally talked her way in.
I rush through the fiery corridors, twisting and turning through the maze, but the chatterbox continues on. Finally, I push open the door to my room and slam it shut. Her voice fades behind the layers of reinforced steel.
I’m so grateful Grandfather gave me my own space. He thought it would brighten my mood. Right now, it provides a great escape.