The Devil's Plaything Read online

  I’m sick of his depraved sense of cruelty. It’s easy to feel hatred now. It douses any softer emotions leaving me a bitter, empty, shell.

  His gaze never wavers from mine. “No more than you are, my darling.”

  “I guess you found it fun knowing one of them was raping me when I was helpless and couldn’t even remember who the fuck I was?” I spit, gun once more aimed at him.

  I register his shock at my venomous tone. He didn’t know. For all his plans and schemes, it looks like this was something he was unaware of.

  “Kill him, Mavi. Make him pay for everything he’s put you through. Squeeze the trigger. Unleash yourself. He’s been the cause of all your problems from the start.”

  There’s so much revulsion and malice in my brother’s voice. I have a sickening feeling that something is wrong. Hair rises on the back of my neck. Sirens blare, destroying the silence.

  “Boss, the fortress has been breached.”

  Raziel’s frantic voice barely registers as pressure builds in my head. Before my gaze, the throne room melts away in shadows until only empty darkness remains.

  Chapter Sixteen

  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.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Licking dry lips, I focus on my surroundings. Everything keeps sliding in and out of darkness. Stringing thoughts together is like holding onto smoke. It feels like hours have passed. They were here…the men. My thoughts tumble in confusion. They took something from me. Something precious.

  Moving my arms, I discover they’ve been bound behind my back. Handcuffs. I can tell by the way they dig into my skin. Someone certainly has a hard-on for having me restrained.

  As the fog dissipates from my mind, I notice I’m sitting buck naked in a metal chair. Florescent lights flicker above as I inspect the grey walls of the interrogation room. It has the whole criminal minds vibe or some other cop show.

  My stomach is flat. No sign I was pregnant is evident except the healed angry scar as proof my child ever existed. They healed me or did my body heal itself? An image of the priest who’d slit me open flashes through my head and the cry of my daughter as she was ripped from the comfort of my womb too soon.

  I can’t contain my rage. Do they think they’ve tamed me? Made me compliant and docile? Hollowed out my will? My tears are spent. I will not weep or wail. They have yet to see the monster I can become. The one who will swallow them raw. I’ve forgotten who I am for too long. I am judge, jury, and fucking executioner. A weapon the Devil himself sought out. An assassin whose prowess is whispered in fear.

  I spare the two way mirror a sideways glance. Are they watching me now? Smug in their minds, thinking they have won?

  A door opens and shuts with a creak and I know that I am no longer alone. With effort, I raise my chin, glaring through my dirty matted hair at my captor.

  “Where is she? Where’s my baby?” I demand hoarsely.

  “She’s in safe hands, babe.”

  Disbelief fills my pained eyes. Ethan. Standing over me, he watches with a nasty grin.

  He’s still alive? I thought I skinned him alive. Fuck, it must have been his partner Kelly. Is he Markaz? Lucifer’s last renegade general?

  “Markaz?”

  “He’s eager to meet you after we’re done,” he assures me.

  The force of the blow ploughing into my jaw rocks me back in the seat. Blood fills my mouth. Another punch to my face and I see stars. I feel the tenderness above my eye forming into bruises. Senses reeling for a split second, I’m quick to regain my equilibrium.

  “Is this your idea of torture or foreplay?” I sneer. “A four-year-old could hit harder than you.”

  This isn’t my first rodeo. If he thinks he’s going to scare me he’s in for a surprise. Letting people underestimate me always makes my job easier. Fists clenching, Ethan’s expression twists in fury. It looks like I poked a sensitive nerve. Pain erupts through my stomach as he slams into me again. Fingers tangle in my hair, yanking me up as I double over.

  “What’s the matter, babe? Does that hurt?” It’s a raspy taunt against my ear. “It’s a shame you heal so quickly now. It would have been more fun to watch you bleed still all sliced open from the ceremony.”

  “That all you got, you prissy little prick?” I jibe back.

  Hate burns in his steadfast gaze. “You’ll be begging for mercy after we’re done with you. Angel heritage or not we’ll see how much damage it takes before that ability to mend yourself fails you.”

  I have no doubt this son of a bitch will pass my time here by daydreaming up new ways to make my life miserable. Before that ever happens, I’ll get free and he’ll be dead. Just the thought of gutting him sends a thrill through my veins.

  Lips tilting up, I give him a dazzling blood splattered smile. “You’ll be the one pleading in the end.”

  Sliding a smooth wooden handle out of a pocket from his jeans, he flips the short blade open.

  “Your genes might make you immortal, but even you can die.” Admiring the metal, he twists it in his fingers, bringing it to my chest. “Cutting out the heart or removing the head are the easiest ways.”

  Lips splitting in a sick grin, he slices it through my flesh. The bite of the knife makes me jerk as he uses me as a canvas, cutting a line down between my breasts. Gritting my teeth, I swallow the pain refusing to show weakness. Trickling down, the darkening blood pools by my groin.

  “Are you jealous the Hell spawn that birthed you didn’t give you that trait? It has to sting like a bitch that you weren’t born immortal. I bet the demons look down on you like the piece of garbage that you are.”

  My taunt sends his eyes narrowing. Bringing the knife to my throat, the sharp tip of the metal presses against my skin. He wants to do it. I can see it on his face.

  “You’re not worthy of what you were born with. Of what runs through your veins,” he hisses near my ear. “If I play my cards right I’ll be blessed with immortality before the sun rises tomorrow then we’ll see just how tough you really are.”

  “Enough.” Low, authoritative, the familiar voice snaps my attention to the figure coming through the open door. I knew in my soul it was coming. Had sensed there was something wrong from the last time we were together, but still it leaves me reeling.

  “You’re not Nathan.”

  The face I know better than my own stares back. Pale blonde hair shaggy, his handsome features have filled out over the last months and are no longer gaunt. Nate’s lips crack into a smile, but even I can see now how it doesn’t quite fit right on his mouth. One long finger taps the side of his head.

  “This noggin was empty long before I made it my home. It didn’t take much to cut the soul free. Fritz managed to ambush me months ago and destroyed my original body. Luckily for me I already had a connection to this host through the blood that runs through his veins. Then it was a matter of biding my time while I grew stronger.” He makes a scoffing sound. “It was pathetic having to listen to you drone on every time you came to visit. I thought I’d die of boredom.”

  His confession sends me into a freefall of despair and aching. Any hope that this was some kind of doppelga
nger is dying a painful death. My brother is gone. Withered away, sucked dry by this evil parasite.

  “What the fuck are you talking about?” I mutter, turmoil clear.

  “So Lucifer kept you in the dark. I guess that’s not surprising. He thinks every move out before he makes it. Every calculated detail no matter how unhinged or demented it is, is thoroughly considered and thought out.” He inches closer, gaze fixed on my face. “I’m your father.”

  Shock is hard to conceal, and I see the slight curve of his lips as he savours mine.

  “Bullshit. He told me the bastard who’d fathered me was dead.”

  “And you believed him so easily?”

  He’s right. I’ve been a fucking fool. From the start I should’ve taken nothing at face value where the king of Hell was concerned.

  “You’ve all been manipulating me for your own means.”

  “Do you think you’re the first offspring I’ve had?” Markaz’s chuckle is malevolent. “I’ve been trying for centuries to breed the perfect weapon. So many disappointments had to be terminated when I realised they were imperfect. But then I found your mother. I never tried mating an angel-human hybrid before. A nephilim and an archangel’s brat, at that. You’ve topped my expectations.”

  I don’t want to listen to anything he has to say. They’ve all betrayed me. It will be the last opportunity they ever have. Shifting my weight, I flex my limbs, waking up stiff muscles.

  “Where’s my daughter?”

  With slow deliberate steps, he circles the chair as he studies me.

  “She will be far more powerful than even you. Hell and Earth will fall to me, and then soon after, Heaven.”

  He thinks he has everything perfectly planned out. I’m going to love bursting his egotistical bubble.

  “You’re insane.”

  Fingertips trail over the curve of my bare shoulder, following the curve of my exposed breast.

  “A family trait. I’ve been primed and ready to seize control. All I needed was someone like you.”