The Demon and the Succubus (8 page)

The mattress gave under their combined weight, cradling them as Gabriel sank against Lilith’s soft curves. She slid one knee between Lilith’s thighs so her full weight didn’t press down on her.

The scent of their combined arousal permeated the air, sending fresh spurts of excitement through Gabriel until her clit ached and she realized almost absently that she’d begun to gently rock her hips, gently riding Lilith’s thigh while they continued their kiss. The exquisite friction against her sensitive clit sent sparks of desire shooting through her.

She edged her thigh forward so that with every movement it would rub against the sensitive hardness of Lilith’s clit.

Gabriel’s breath came in short gasps, and she quickened her movements as her own clit throbbed with each exquisite contact against Lilith’s silky-soft thigh. Arousal tightened deep inside her gut until only the urgency to reach the orgasm that hovered just beyond her reach drove her movements.

Lilith seemed to welcome the hard, unforgiving movements, tightening her grip on Gabriel, the sharp pain of the queen’s nails biting into Gabriel’s back seemed to pull her arousal tight, pushing her over the edge until white-hot pleasure exploded through her. Dimly she heard Lilith cry out beneath her and a sharp stab of pain sliced through her shoulder before easing down into a dull ache that blended with the maelstrom going on inside her.

As reality slowly returned, Gabriel became aware of the strong, new scent inside the room.

Arousal . . . but although it was familiar, it was not her own or Lilith’s.

She braced her elbows on either side of Lilith and pushed up to look behind her, already knowing what she would find.

Uriel.

Lilith’s soft curse from underneath her made Gabriel stiffen and push up off the bed to stumble away from the queen.

Lilith slowly sat up, her lips still swollen from Gabriel’s rough kisses, but her pain-filled gaze was only for Uriel.

Awareness slowly tickled
at the edges of Amalya’s consciousness, urgently beckoning until she forced open her eyes. She winced as pain scraped across her eyeballs as if someone had installed sandpaper on the inside of her eyelids while she slept.

When the pain cleared along with her mind, she realized she lay on the floor of what looked like a very posh office. A large dark cherry desk loomed to her left and plush, soft carpet met her fingers when she wiggled them against the floor.

The last thing she remembered was running through the cotton field to draw the shades away from the men.

What had happened to Levi and Jethro?

Urgency forged with icy fear snaked through her to pool deep inside her belly. She forced herself to sit up, nearly banging her head on the edge of the desk.

“Welcome, little succubus.”

Amalya stiffened as a wave of power ruffled along her skin raising the hairs on the back of her neck and sending a shudder wracking through her. She slowly raised her chin to peer over the desk, already dreading what she would find.

Lucifer’s piercing green gaze met her own and she gasped, scrambling up and away until she stumbled against something hard and fell backward into an overstuffed leather chair. After a split second of swallowing back the urge to run, she took a deep breath and let it out slowly, hoping her composure hadn’t totally deserted her. “How did I get here?”

Her voice sounded reasonably calm, and she raised her chin as her confidence grew by a tiny fraction.

Lucifer’s long blond hair flowed around a handsome, pale face. He had an ethereal beauty but would never be considered feminine. The well-formed body, smooth, deep voice, and the compelling presence he exuded marked him as decidedly male and unmistakably powerful. “You’re near death. You’re on the other side. In the administrative offices of Hell to be exact.” He gestured vaguely around him.

Amalya frowned and sat forward in her seat as anticipation spilled through her chasing back her fear. No one technically knew what happened to succubi upon their deaths. Neither Heaven nor Hell seemed overly eager to claim them. “So, succubi are demons? We are denizens of Hell?”

His full lips curved as if he enjoyed keeping her in suspense. “No sarcastic remarks about Hell having administrative offices? I’m both disappointed and impressed.”

She raised her brows, an impatient gesture she only realized she’d done when he mirrored the gesture as if mocking her.

“Sadly, you aren’t my creature, although I would be happy to take you and all of your kind under my wing if Lilith and the Archangels would only agree.” He leaned back, an expensive gold pen suspended between both his hands where he rolled it idly back and forth using both thumbs and index fingers. “However, until that day comes, let’s just say when I sensed you leaving the earthly realm, I pulled your spirit this way so we could have a small chat.”

She sighed. In true supernatural fashion he’d told her nothing definitive.

Was there a class on how to be vague that all supernaturals had to take before being admitted to the human world? She mentally waved away his comments. “Are Jethro and Levi all right?”

He gave a dismissive shrug. “They were ten minutes ago in human time, but I haven’t kept track beyond that. It’s you I’m interested in . . . Amalya.”

At the sound of her name from those beautifully sculpted lips she stiffened in her seat and glared across the desk into his amused green gaze. “And I would be a much better conversationalist if I knew they were all right.” Her words were soft and nonthreatening, but she infused them with certainty.

She held her breath as she waited for an outburst of anger. After all, Lucifer wasn’t known for his patience and sparkling personality.

When the room filled with his dark, rich laugh, Amalya sat back in her chair, confusion eroding her certainty like rushing water against a sand castle.

“It always amazes me how those who are technically on the lower end of the power chain are usually so much stronger of character than those on the upper end. It does actually make what I do more enjoyable.” He tapped the end of the pen against his smiling lips before dropping it on his desk and lacing his fingers in front of him. “And my Father mistakenly thinks the humans are the most fascinating beings He created.”

When Amalya didn’t offer any comment, he continued, his expression a mask. “Yes, both men you mentioned are currently alive. Is there anything else you need to know before we can resume our conversation?”

Cool relief slid through her. They were alive. Now all she had to do was figure out how to find her way back to them without running into the shades again and winding up right back here. When she realized Lucifer still watched her closely she raised her chin and met his gaze. “Are you aware Semiazas has escaped his prison?”

Lucifer’s expression never wavered. He pierced her with his too-perceptive green gaze and Amalya shrugged away the sensation that he could see straight through to her soul—especially since it wasn’t clear if succubi even
had
souls.

“Maybe when this is all over, I’ll answer both those questions for you, little one, but right now time runs too short for small talk.”

She started. Both questions?

She ran through the conversation in her mind, realizing he meant both the question about Semiazas and her internal wonderings about succubi having souls. Could he read her mind?

An impatient frown darkened his expression. “Yes, little one. You currently reside in my lair. My power base is here, so I can read strong thoughts that come my way.”

Then something else Lucifer had said came clear.

Lucifer considered Semiazas escaping and tracking her and her sisters down for revenge small talk? She bit back the churning ball of anger that filled her chest. Lucifer was the only being that could control Semiazas. She had to remind herself that angering the prince of darkness wouldn’t be a good move at this point.

Maybe she was becoming too much like her sister, Reba, but if the situation weren’t so dire, she might enjoy lashing out instead of bottling the anger that currently churned inside her like acid.

Amalya took a deep breath, battling back her anger until she was confident she could control her emotions. “All right. Why am I here?”

“I need you to keep your word.”

“My word?” Shock slapped at her as she searched her memory for anything she could’ve said that might have been construed as a promise. High-level supernaturals operated by their own set of rules, which they often made up as they went along. “My word about what?”

“Such a low opinion of us. Although I’m sure a well-earned one in most cases.” He shrugged. “If you’ll take my hand, all will become clear.”

Amalya eyed Lucifer’s long-fingered hand as she would a poisonous predator ready to strike. When she glanced up, his expression seemed to mock her, although it was probably only her own pride. After all, he’d admitted she wasn’t his creature, and since she was beginning to think that she and her sisters, once reunited, might have to return to ask for his help with Semiazas, it wouldn’t do to anger him now.

She steeled herself for his touch and reached out to take his hand. As soon as her skin touched his, knowledge and memories came rushing back, crashing over her in crippling waves.

She saw herself inside Lucifer’s lair, a gilded room full of opulence and self-importance—totally unlike even the affluent office space she’d just left—and knew she was reliving a forgotten experience.

Power prickled against her skin stealing her breath until she had to force air into her lungs and blow it out slowly just to keep it from overpowering her.

“Welcome, ladies.”

Amalya started at the respectful greeting and glanced to the side as her hands were clasped from both sides in a silent show of comfort and support.

She squeezed each hand lightly recognizing the familiar presence of her sisters on either side of her.

Amalya swallowed against the vertigo that came with this too vivid memory and instead enjoyed the sensation of having her sisters around her again. She hadn’t seen them in over seven hundred years, so even though this was only a memory, she clutched it to her like a comfortable blanket.

“That is something we’ll soon find out, Jezebeth.”

Amalya frowned wondering what question Lucifer was answering. She turned to glance at Jezebeth, who had paled.

“Yes, within my lair, I can pick up strong thoughts from others.”

Lucifer’s green gaze met hers and a quick smirk curled his lips as if to say he’d heard her thought too. The intensity of all that awareness concentrated on her sent a wave of power biting at her skin in tiny little stings that morphed into one large discomfort.

When he finally dropped his gaze to motion off to his side, the sensation receded and Amalya sighed as cool relief slid through her.

“Michael, join us.”

Amalya frowned as the name he’d spoken registered. Michael?

As in
Archangel
Michael?

Her sisters gripped her hands tighter as confusion sent Amalya’s thoughts spinning. What had they gotten themselves into?

A large Archangel with a muscular, sleek build, mocha skin, and piercing green eyes joined Lucifer. Standing side by side, their eyes were identical, even though the rest of their features were very different. They were a study in dark and light, but while Lucifer’s power bit at her making her resist the urge to shudder and cringe away, Michael’s power flowed over her in a seductive, enticing warmth. Amalya wondered why Lucifer’s power hadn’t felt like that back inside his office, but her musings were cut short when Michael spoke.

“Greetings, followers of Lilith.” Michael’s deep voice washed over her, calming her and chasing back her fears. When her sisters’ grips on her hands loosened, she knew they were experiencing the same thing.

“We have come to ask—”

“We already know why you’re here.” Michael’s voice was kind but firm as he cut off Jezebeth’s words, the calming effect of his presence increasing until Amalya felt boneless and relaxed.

Lucifer paced a slow path back and forth in front of them giving the impression of languid, slow movement, while still seeming impatient. He moved like liquid sin, but the eerie energy pouring off him was enough to remind her that for all his beauty, there was something evil lurking beneath that handsome exterior. “Ladies, we are well aware of Semiazas’s activities, and they will be curtailed . . . for now.” He stopped in midstride and met each of their gazes in turn.

Amalya bit her tongue against demanding to know what “for now” meant. She squeezed Reba’s hand, hoping the small gesture would remind her headstrong sister that if there was ever a time for them to be diplomatic and not anger either Michael or Lucifer, now was the time.

“Why only for now?” Jezebeth’s clear voice rang through the large room echoing Amalya’s thoughts, and she was sure Reba’s and Galina’s too.

Lucifer cast Jezebeth an impatient look and the edges of Michael’s lips quirked as if he were trying to hide a smile.

“Semiazas will be imprisoned for his crimes, but there are bigger things at work here, ladies.” Lucifer raised one eyebrow as if making sure he wouldn’t be interrupted again.

Amalya clamped her lips closed, resisting the urge to do just that.

“Prophecy,” Lucifer said slowly. “Armageddon prophecy to be exact.”

“Fuck.”

Amalya snapped her head toward the sound of Reba’s quick curse, but since she agreed with the sentiment, she didn’t bother to shush her, not that shushing Reba ever did any good.

Lucifer laughed. “Very eloquently put, Reba. From the expressions on your sisters’ faces, I’d say they agree with your very astute assessment.”

Reba scowled and Amalya tightened her grip on her sister’s hand. Things needed to move along before one or more of them said something to set off the powerful demon or Archangel in the room, which meant all of them would end up dead.