I’ve had it up to here with his bullshit. My hand tightens into a fist and I pull my arm back and send it flying forward, packing as much strength as I can into the punch, and maybe even a little magic.
Blood, a midnight blue color, bursts from his nose and the asshole falls back, landing unconscious on the floor. His body is swallowed up by the fray, and I don’t see him again.
Then, I feel someone’s hands wrap around my waist and pull me back. I twist in the grasp only to meet Azazel’s milky white eyes. I relax as he pulls me away from the fight and to a quieter area of the bar. I go with him, trust pulsing between us. He takes a seat, sitting back against the chair with leisurely grace.
“So,” he drawls, his starry eyes shining with curiosity. “If your men were here, what would they be doing?”
The mere question sobers me up instantly, more than the fight had. “Malek would be watching over me. Super territorial, that one.” I smile.
I sit down on the empty chair next to Azazel, and he easily drapes his arm over the back of it. Not touching, keeping a respectable distance for a demon. Then again, he’s my family. Some distant cousin or uncle on my grandfather, Satan’s side or something…
Hell if I can remember.
“Saint would probably be bothering a pixie, Syko would be making a joke about the ambiance, and Phoenix… he’d be brooding behind me.” Turning me on by just standing there. “Always brooding.”
“They sound like a handful.”
“They are but….” I suddenly feel my giddiness fade away as my thoughts are overcome with them. “I…” I stand to my full height, taking in a breath. “I have to go home now.” My voice trembles, and I don’t know why. It’s like the high I just felt is suddenly crashing, causing my emotions to fray.
Those white eyes follow me. “You miss them.”
I do. I don’t even have to say the words when I know they’re prominent on my face.
He sighs and stands. He’s very close to me, but I don’t feel afraid. Not anymore. All I feel is… friendship. Like we’ve known each other for years rather than hours.
His hands cup my shoulders and squeeze. “It has been a pleasure knowing you, Izara Castillo, Princess of Hell.” The air permeates with the scent of magic, of sulfur and burnt cinnamon. Heat presses onto my back and my wings, and I know, without having to turn around, that a portal is there.
And that this is goodbye.
“I hope we meet again one day,” I whisper like it’s some type of forbidden desire I shouldn’t even want. “Under different circumstances.”
A broad smile tilts his mouth, making him look more beautiful. “Oh, dearest Izara. I am sure we will.”
And then he gently pushes me towards the portal.
And I’m falling into darkness.
Nine
Saint
The voices and images of confinement scurry around the black room. I don’t dwell on them though. Phoenix taught me a long time ago how to block out dark magic or even cruel fathers. It’s my own bitter thoughts that are harder to ignore.
Days pass slowly and it becomes harder and harder to safely keep my thoughts from twisting in on themselves.
The more adrenaline inspiring the illusions, the better they are to block out your surroundings. Izzy disappearing, us being confined, the shadows looming around me, I imagine it all away.
I imagine myself with her. The intimate thoughts become a sensual reality that even Phoenix would be proud of.
Her hips thrust in time with mine, our bodies melding and sliding against one another so perfectly that I can almost taste the salt along her skin. The gliding way she slides her pussy down my shaft brings my body to life with tingling energy coursing all through me. Full lips whisper along my neck.
“Saint...” My lashes flutter and Phoenix’s demonic eyes turn into a sinful angel’s gaze. Both men brush their palms down my back as they stand behind me.
“Saint…” Their bare chests skim along my back as Syko slides his tongue along my neck before biting my shoulder hard enough to arch my spine.
“Saint…” Phoenix’s steady fingers push down my abs, trailing lower and lower before teasing the base of my cock.
A groan consumes my chest.
