Chapter One
Belial
Every second I spentaway from my human treasure was torture, my own personal hell. Images of her, ofus, replayed in my mind constantly.
While I should have been focused on other things—like tonight’s masquerade ball—I kept losing myself in daydreams to find her.
“It hurts being this close to you,” Rayven’s voice echoed through my skull.
My hands tightened on her hips, claws scoring her perfect, moon-pale flesh.
Her body trembled as I pushed my cock inside her. She told me she hated me, even as she moaned and begged for more. Looking so bleeding perfect in my bed, naked and bentover, with her pretty ass pressed against my pelvis, her pussy stretching to take all of me.
“Do you like the pain?”
Weeping Hells. I’d never forget the way her pulse lunged at the question, how I could feel it down deep inside her, tapping out a frantic beat against my cock.
“Yes…” she whimpered.
“That’s what I thought,” I hummed, kissing her nape, her throat, her mouth. Savoring her heat, her filthy little noises, her scent, her everything.
The scene slipped away at the sound of a loud cough, the kind meant to get one’s attention. Once again, I found myself sitting at the desk in my study.
“My Lord? Did you hear my question?”
I lifted my skull from my palm, blazing eyes boring into the skeletal servant standing before me. I’d forgotten he was there. “What?”
He flinched at my scathing tone. It was obvious I didn’t like being pulled from my daydream.
“Forgive me, My Lord. I was asking if you’ve seen the decorations I selected for the throne room. I hope you approve. We previously discussed an indigo and silver theme. However, I decided to be bold and chose a more royal blue hue to complement…”
The servant’s voice faded again as my thoughts drifted back to Rayven. I was supposed to be proceeding with the next part of my plan—the ball where I’d announce my new queen.
But I couldn’t get that little grave robber out of my goddamn mind. How could I? Had there ever been a mortal so stubborn and fearless? Where Catherine—my last human pet—had cowered and cried, Rayven fought tooth and nail against me from the moment I dragged her to Hell.
When she’d raided the Petherick family tomb, Catherine’s final resting place, she’d been an annoyance. A thief in need of punishment.
Tormenting her had been fun. Poor thing actually thought she’d had a chance at leaving my realm, especially when I’d pretended my lesser form was just a reaper looking to help her escape.
I never intended for things to get this thoroughly twisted. I never intended for her to turn into a full-blown obsession.
My brothers would think this was just Catherine all over again, but no.
Rayven was different. She wanted me. She’d seen past my mask. She’d felt my scars—and she’d fuckingsmiledand pulled me close—when Catherine had only screamed and shoved me away.
How could I not be addicted to the way she looked at me when I’d been starved of that kind of affection for so long?
My desk scraped against the stone floor as I snapped to my feet.
The servant jumped back to avoid being knocked over by the heavy piece of furniture. “M-My Lord?”
I left the skeleton behind without a second glance, storming from my study, cloak lashing angrily behind me with my hurried strides. I couldn’t be bothered with boring masquerade drivel when there was one thing so prominently on my mind.
I needed to see her, to feel her closeness, to sate the feral nerves clawing through me.
It didn’t take me long to get to my room. I stood there in the doorway, breath frozen in my lungs as I watched Rayven sleep, tucked into the center of my massive bed.
She was mine now, in her entirety. There on the cliff, she’d given me her soul, given me total control over her.
