Hellacious, Book 3
[ Demon Romance, MF ]
Wicked Sathariel, the eldest son of Satan, has finally met his match, and at the oddest of times, she turns up in his head.
Lightning slicing angrily through the bough of a tree that stood silent and graceful for hundreds of years, or water carving away deep, parched earth to form a new river; these are what Wicked Sathariel’s thoughts felt like as they tumbled headlong into Lori Thornton’s mind.
Tonight, you will be mine.
She’d called her best friend, Marcia, who had called Waverly, and now they all sat in the club Lori frequented until she first met Wicked Sathariel. That night seeped into her thoughts.
Yeah, baby, remember it. Remember me.
She had entered the club with a few other nurses after a hard day of rapid responses and code blues. Admissions arrived as quickly as discharges rolled out. She’d barely ordered her drink that night when he approached. Lori remembered thinking he was a pretty boy. Suave, debonair, and all fluff.
She’d since learned he was anything but. Satan’s firstborn was hard, cold, and a deadly motherfucker if she’d ever met one. Lori, never one to bite her tongue, had told him, “Fuck off, pretty boy.” Yet the words had never breached her lips. She’d said them in her mind as her body quaked with need the closer he got.
Over six feet of hot and sexy walked up to her, and in her mind, he’d whispered, “Magnificent.” The man had the makings of an eight-pack strapped across his abdomen, topped by strong, broad shoulders. Designer slacks, probably made especially for him, rode low on narrow hips, and the soft material caressed muscular thighs with each step in her direction. Damn, he was spectacular looking! Dark hair curled at his neck, and the bluest eyes she had ever seen ate her alive.
Why pick her?
Lori was a big, full-figured girl. She didn’t have the type of body that attracted pretty boys.
You’re just the type I want, and when I crawl between those thick thighs, you’ll come again, and again, and…
“Stop!” She pressed her temples.
“Hey, girl, you okay?” Marcia peered at her strangely.
“He’s rattling around in my brain, and God knows, I’ve tried to stop him.” Her head shook from side to side. “I can’t.”
Waverly watched her closely. “Lori, we’ve gone over this. If your connection is this strong, there is a reason.”
“What? What’s the reason, Wave?” Marcia had introduced her to Waverly, some heavenly embodiment who brought light into Sly’s life. According to the women, they saved both sons from the clutches of evil, and now neither brother had to bring death to a human. Wicked wasn’t so lucky according to Marci and Wave. “You both constantly remind me he belongs to the devil.” Shit, they dealt with it, so could she. “Damn, it’s hot in here.” Loosening two buttons on her top did nothing to help.
Are your nipples hard for me, honey?
“Yes… no… please leave me alone!”
“Whoa, Lori, what the hell?” Marci patted her shoulder. “Girl, I told you, give in to it. You’re not getting away.”
“You shouldn’t be. Look at us. We’re safe.” Waverly smiled. “They’re not as bad as you think.” She winked at Marcia. “There are some really awesome benefits.” The two of them laughed. “Anyway, he can’t harm you, Lori. It’s not allowed.”
A sigh puffed through her lips as she put her elbow on the table and rested her chin in her palm. “I’m not as afraid of him as…”
Both women cut her off. “Then what’s the problem?”
“I’m more afraid of me.”
“Uhh, can you explain that?” Marcia’s head tilted.
“I — you see, well… Damn it.” She was at a loss for words. Kinky jumped in her mind right beside ménage and all the crazy things she wanted to try with him. Who better than Satan’s son, right? After all, he couldn’t call her…
Oh, you are nasty, and I like it.
The chuckle he emitted rolled around and around in her head. It was nasty, and not something she wanted to divulge to the two women staring at her across the table.
Tell them you want me to smack that ass. Tell them you want to feel my devilish tongue in your pussy.
You know what? You tell them. She grinned, thinking herself safe sitting here with friends who had a tie to two of momma’s boys.
The stench of sulphur burned her nose and made her eyes water. She rubbed at them with a napkin, and when she looked up, there he was.
Pulling out the chair next to her, he sat down and stretched his long legs under the table where muscled thighs touched Lori’s. “Always good to see my brothers’ women.” His mischievous grin only improved his sex appeal.
Marcia waved him off. “Don’t start any shit, Wicked, I’ll call Slick.”
Wave nodded. “And Sly.”
“I’m wounded you think so little of me.” He turned his vibrant blue eyes on Lori. “Surely, you think better of me, lover?”
“I’m not your lover.” But, oh God, she wanted to be.
The room shook, rattling the glasses on the table. “You will be.”
Her cheeks grew warm, and she damn near whimpered when he flashed his charming smile in her direction.
“And I’ll do almost everything you want.” His hand touched her thigh beneath the table. “I’m sure you know not to use his name in the presence of any of us. Pops likes to be number one.”
“Go to hell.” Sweat dripped down Lori’s back.
“With you, any time.” He eased his hand between her legs. You’re wet.
The room and everyone in it stilled. Slick appeared behind Marci, and Sly plopped into the seat beside Wave. “I don’t know about Slick, but I’ll be damn if you’re going to terrorize my woman.”
“Slick, little brother, help me out here?”
“Hell no, Wick, Marci’s not comfortable with the way you’ve accosted her friend.”
Lori examined the fruity concoction in her glass, watching as condensation slipped down the side and formed a puddle on the table. It made her think of how a pearly drop might look easing over the crown of Wicked’s cock.
Look at me, damn it.
Her head snapped up.
Should I tell them about all your kinky fetishes, honey?
Wicked, please, don’t.
Then you’ll leave me alone?
He looked from one person to the other at the table before he spoke aloud. “After tonight, if Lori doesn’t want to be with me, I’ll leave her alone. Forever.”
The others at the table zeroed in on her and Marcia asked, “Lori, you okay with this?”
Unable to form words, she nodded. Wicked moved quietly in her psyche, mentally caressing her nipples. He kissed her neck and sucked her pulse until she couldn’t breathe. When she felt an imaginary finger slip into her vagina, she rocked forward on the chair. Please, not here.
“Come with me,” he whispered in her ear. This time his tongue really lapped beneath her ear and sent shivers down her spine.
“Anywhere.” Why had she said that? Jesus, Lori knew who… what the being beside her was. Anywhere could be Hell as far as she knew. At this moment, she didn’t care. Without recognizing it until now, she wanted to go with him, stay with him. She’d fought it long enough.
“Heaven, honey. I’m going to take you to Heaven tonight.”
The floor swayed back and forth, causing patrons to squeal in fear and shout “earthquake.” Wicked threw his head back and laughed. “A metaphor, nothing more, Father.”
Lori was afraid because in Wicked’s arms she would feel like she had died and gone to Heaven. She feared more than anything, one night might not be enough.
The floor bucked beneath the table, and it was the last thing she remembered before he magically plucked her from the club.
* * *
Wicked remained a little annoyed about what she’d said about him on the beach the day Slick reacquainted himself with Marcia Carter. He lounged against his bar, keeping his hands in his pockets. “So I’m a freaking nutjob?”
He listened to the turmoil in Lori’s mind as she peered around his apartment, taking in the dark, masculine furniture, his guitar leaning against the amp by the tall mahogany stool he sat on when he played.
Unbelievable. “You play guitar?” She glanced at the wall between the loft’s two elevators. Brushing her fingers lightly over the strings, she asked, “Who painted the picture?” Lori caressed the neck of the instrument, sending a flare of passion to his crotch as he imagined her fingers squeezing his cock.
The Old Guitarist was his favorite painting and it is why he played. Wicked found it soothing to coerce sounds from it no one heard but him. He liked having total control over something in his life. “Unbelievable that I enjoy music?” He glanced at the painting. “It is a Picasso.” He shrugged. “Over the millennia I have gained some culture if only by osmosis, honey.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
He strode to stand in front of her. “Tell me, sweet Lori, what did you mean?”
“It’s just…” Breath hitched noisily in her throat. “I didn’t think, oh hell, you know what I meant.”
“Tell me, I want to hear you say it.”
“I didn’t think the son of Lucifer would play an instrument, enjoy music and art, or — or read a book.” She straightened her shoulders. “In fact, I didn’t think you’d be normal at all.”
“I am much more than the evil creature you believe me to be.”
Wicked hadn’t intended to kiss her so soon. He wanted Lori to get used to him. Eyes that rivaled his in their blueness stared at him. She ran a hand nervously through her neck-length blonde hair and her full lips quivered. The smell of her fear made him anxious, unsure. How could he make her understand he’d never, ever hurt her?
“I’m going to kiss you.”
When she didn’t step back, he leaned down and pressed his lips softly to hers. His hands were now clenched at his sides as he vowed not to touch any other part of her body. Wick knew her wide hips would be soft, her plump breasts would more than fill his palms, and her nipples, taut beneath her shirt, would be so damn sweet. Easing his tongue past her lips, he tasted her for the first time. His senses reeled at the exotic flavor of who she was. Her thoughts, her needs, tumbled headlong into his mind and blinded him with the light of goodness from her soul.
Snatching back, he gazed at her long and hard. “Hell’s sake, I didn’t expect you to be so fucking devout.” Especially knowing what she desired of him. No matter, he would take her tonight, make her his. He ran the tip of a finger around a bud. “Are they hard for me, Lori?”
“Wicked… I… please, don’t…”
“I will do nothing you have not dreamed of.”
“I didn’t realize you invaded my dreams.”
“I watched them.” He smiled. “I wanted your sleep to be peaceful.”
“You can do that?”
“I can do anything I want. I’ve been through your mind a hundred times since that first night.” Shoving hands back in his pockets so he wasn’t tempted to touch her again, he tilted his head. “You’ve been in mine also.” He still couldn’t fathom how that had happened. Probably his mother’s doing. “Have you seen anything terrible enough to condemn me for?” He felt her feeble attempt at reading him, but he’d closed that pathway for now, aware another would only spring up. Damn Josette.
“No, but, unlike you, I haven’t seen everything. I know it’s there. I feel it.” She averted her eyes. “You are the devil.”
“I am his son.”
“Like father, like son.”
He moved to stare out the window of his loft. Lights shone brightly from the many high-rises surrounding his building. Looking up, he saw a myriad of stars, and one shot toward Earth in a solitary path. He remembered when he was a boy, Josette told him shooting stars were angels falling to Earth. Wicked never believed it. They were pieces of dying planets or stars, nothing more.
“Tell me what you feel right now.”
He turned to face her and rested his hips on the sill. “Yes, you can.”
“I want… damn it, Wicked, I want you.”
He grunted. “I know what you want. Tell me something else. Something I don’t know.”
“You know everything there is to know.”
“I don’t know why it took you so long to come to me.” He should have had her in his bed long ago.
“What do you mean?”
“You’ve known since the first night we would be together.”
She stuttered, “I-I guess I did.”
“I scare you that much?”
He walked to her. “Yet you envision me between your thighs.” He ran a finger over her lips and sighed. “I don’t want you afraid, and I won’t take you that way.” His body shimmered in and out of view. “You will stay here.”
“Don’t leave me!”
“You can’t stand to be with me, but you don’t want to be without me.”
“Wicked, I need time.”
“You’ve had enough, but I’ll give you a little more.” He vanished, heading below to visit with his father.
Relax, honey, you got what you wanted. For now.
* * *
“This is unexpected.”
“My coming home? Why?”
Lucifer stood and paced the length of his grand living room. “Is this your home?”
“I don’t need anyone else fucking with me right now.”
His father strode back, fell heavily onto his throne, and laughed, the sound shaking the walls. “Remember me saying you would soon learn the true meaning of the words pussy whipped?”
“Shit, I haven’t smelled the real thing yet.”
“Hell can’t help you when you do.”
“Damn it, she’s so afraid of me, the fear rolls from her in waves.”
“Wicked, you are the firstborn son of someone who people believe to be the most evil creature in the world. What did you expect?”
He rested his head back, closed his eyes, and ran a hand through his hair. “Hell if I know. Why couldn’t I simply fall for a demon?”
“Because you are also my son.” He sat up at the sound of Josette’s voice. She entered the room wearing a white gown that billowed around her.
“Only you would wear white in Hell, mother.”
“Haven’t you heard? White can be worn all year round now.” She flounced on a large pillow at Satan’s feet, and he idly played with a ringlet of her golden hair.
“What the hell does that mean?”
She waved her hand. “I don’t know. Some fashion cretin deigned it so.”
“For hell’s sake, I meant… shit, never mind.”
She grinned. “Why such unhappiness? You have finally captured what you wanted.”
“I didn’t want a woman so afraid of me she can barely stand the sight of me.”
“That’s not true.”
He squinted at Josette. “How would you know?” He’d get to the bottom of her involvement in his affair. If she had not learned her lesson after Slick and Marcia, Wicked would teach her.
“Wicked, you have been warned once.” The pain inflicted when Satan traced Wicked’s pentagram with a talon and drew blood flashed acutely in his mind. “There will not be another warning.”
“Damn it, I got it.”
His mother laid her head against his father’s thigh. “I have lost you.”
“You thought to have all three of us tied to your apron strings?”
“That’s an ugly picture, Wick.”
“Yeah, you in an apron. How unlikely is that to ever happen?”
“You helped me with Slick and I gave you the woman you wanted.”
He leaned forward. “What did you give her?” Satan stood and headed for the gates of Hell. Lucifer’s grip on him and his mind slipped, and Wicked yelled, “Don’t you dare walk through those doors.” Wick followed him, stopping just short of bumping into the devil’s back. “You did this?”
“Watch your tone. Why do I have to keep reminding you where the fuck you are?”
“For crying out loud. You did it. Why, why did you let her see into my mind?” Sometimes tenderness and love dripped from the fingertips of his father, especially when he dealt with his sons. This was one of those times. He touched Wick’s cheek with his hand and love poured into him, but the most horrific thing he could imagine quickly followed. The vision overwhelmed Wicked, took him to his knees. “Hell, no… no!” His pain expanded, entered every part of his body, and instantly his brothers were at his side.
Sly spoke first. “Easy, man, easy, we’re here.”
Slick helped him to his feet. “I’m sorry, Wick, so sorry.”
They had witnessed the vision also. He stood and glared at his father. “It won’t happen. I won’t let it.”
Satan opened the gates of Hell and walked inside the door. Pivoting, he gazed at Wicked with red tears staining his cheeks. “It will happen.”
“Wicked!” Josette stood behind him and put her arms around his waist. “He’s your father.”
Glaring at the doors as they slowly shut, he cried, “He’s the goddamn devil, nothing more.”
Walls trembled throughout the bowels of Hell, the gates flew back open, and Satan in all his hellacious glory tramped back into the room. Horns glistened, talons appeared longer than usual, and the long, leathery tail whipped high and low scoring the walls with gouges. “You didn’t think being mine meant sweetness and light, did you, Wicked?” Satan snatched Wicked from Josette’s grip and the talons tore into his flesh. “Did you?”
Wick lost all control. His horns sprouted, followed quickly by talons as pointy and deadly as Lucifer’s. A thick, spiked tail waved around the room, sending his brothers and Josette scurrying into the far corner. Fire flicked from his mouth when he spoke. “Release me. I’ll show you evil.”
Satan laughed, an eerie sound, which gave Wicked pause after he was dropped and his hooves hit the floor. “I made the right choice when I chose you.”
“I could have told you that, Pops.” Sarcasm laced every word.
“What do you think you’re going to do?”
“I’m not going to let you hurt her.”
His father chuckled. “I’m not going to hurt her.”
Wick breathed a sigh of relief.
“Don’t you ever come against me again. And in my house?” Satan opened his mouth and a blast furnace of flames licked at Wicked, causing him to back up. “You are much stronger than your brothers, but I can still burn your ass behind the gates of Hell forever.” He wrapped his tail around Wicked and flung him to the floor. “Do. You. Understand?”
Wicked refused to give an inch until his brothers drew near and he feared for their safety. “Stop, I’m okay.”
Stepping back through the heavy, impenetrable doors, his father smiled. “Wicked, you are firstborn, you are mine, and you will kill her, not I.” Sadness rested in his eyes as he glared at him. “This is what it’s like to reign in Hell, my son. Get used to it.” He looked up. “She belongs to Heaven.”
Overhead, thunder sent bolts of lightning to pound Earth and shake it on its axis. The doors slammed shut, shielding every dead creature behind it from the wail of anguish that ripped through Wicked’s body and emanated from his mouth. “Nooo, God, no!” He came to his knees, tail thrashing and destroying everything in its path.
His brothers pulled Josette beneath them to shield her as stone and glass crashed all around them. His human body emerged, curled into a fetal position, and he watched as his red tears flowed into the crevices of stone beneath him, staining them forever.
Josette crawled to where he lay, pulled him into her lap, and held him. “I know you won’t believe me, but he loves you, Wicked, he will take away your pain.”
He glared at her. “Your God can’t help me now.”
“I’m talking about your father.”
“Who will take Lori’s pain away, Mother, who?”