“Aw.” Belphegor’s trio of lips pursed into mocking pouts. “Our feral little rat isn’t so brave now that she’s cornered. Come here.”
His claws curled, beckoning me closer. “Maybe I’ll pluck off one of your body parts and send it to As in a pretty bow-wrapped package as a condolence for his loss. Maybe your tongue?” His eyes gleamed with malevolence as they dropped to the apex ofmy thighs. “Or that little nub between those folds? I’d make it quick.”
“Fuck you!”
“Hmm, you’re right. Asmodeus would probably much prefer your pretty pierced nipples. Once I sever them, I can fit them in his metal. I think you’ll look so much better in gold than silver anyway.”
“Don’t you fucking touch me, or—”
“Or what?” The demon stalked closer, looking terrifying with the whirling steam winding around his goat’s horns. “Are you going to threaten me with what Belial might do? Don’t make me laugh. I’d give up every soul in my charge to have his hands on me.”
“He’ll rip your fucking head off is what he’ll do.”
“Maybe once I’m dead. But I know Belial. He’ll tease out my end, edge out every last fucking breath until I’ve paid for all my sins. And there isn’t enough oxygen in all the nine realms for that. It will be slow…”
He licked his lips, and a moan-like sigh slithered up his throat like it was the most erotic thought he’d ever had. “Such a slow, sweet fucking death by the Lord of Bones himself.”
Normally, the erection tenting his loincloth would bother me—especially considering he was getting a boner by fantasizing about how Belial might kill him—but seeing that this version of Asmodeus still had his cock intact helped ground me.
This wasn’t the brutal demon lord who’d assaulted me. It was just an illusion.
I forced a smirk. “Maybe I’ll just kill you myself then. If I’m going to be the queen of death, I should practice killing people, right? The Lord of…”
My words trailed off as I realized I didn’t know what sin Belphegor lorded over.
“Gluttony,” he seethed, appearing pissed as hell that I didn’t already know.
Right. I should have guessed that. “The Lord of Gluttony would be a perfect first kill for the queen of death.”
“You’re not going to be the queen of anything, little rat. Mortals are vermin. Living or dead, they don’t deserve to rule any part of Hell, most certainly not Limbo.”
“Oh, vermin, am I? Then it really will be embarrassing as fuck when I kill you, won’t it?”
My heart pounded in my ears so hard, I could barely hear myself think. This was when I needed to shut my mouth. Taunting a powerful demon king was not wise; even Belial would advise me to hold my tongue until I had some kind of upper hand.
Belphegor’s three menacing grins chilled me to my core. “I’d like to see you try.”
He surged forward, leaping through the screen of steam. I tried to get away from his swinging claws, but he was too fast, his arm sweeping around my middle and hauling me into the air.
I screamed and scratched at his back, but it was like clawing aged leather. It looked soft and supple, but he had a natural armor to his skin that made it extra durable.
He threw me into the tub, water sloshing everywhere as my ass slammed painfully against the bottom, spikes of pain shooting up my spine.
I coughed and sputtered, trying to get the water I’d inhaled out of my lungs.
If it wasn’t bad enough that the water was hot enough to scald my skin, I now took notice of the rusty iron cuffs mounted to the rim of the tub. Oh great. So this was the bathroom where they washed all the ‘guests’ destined to be theroyal meat.
The demon lord gave a cruel laugh when he caught me staring wide-eyed at the cruel hunk of metal. “You should be used tothese. Rumor has it, the Lord of Bones loves manacling his whores before fucking them.”
“That’s none of your damn business.”
“So it’s true then?” With the way his eyes lit up, you’d think I’d told him Santa Claus was real and that he was bringing him Belial for Christmas, wrapped in nothing but shiny paper.
Belphegor grabbed a scrub brush and went to work on my skin, dragging the scratchy loofah end over my sensitive skin. I squirmed in his grasp, wincing in pain, but he hardly seemed to notice.
“What is it about you that fascinates him so?” he wondered aloud as he scrubbed me. “It can’t just be your black hair or your warm little cunt. I can shift into whatever I want. I can look like anything…” His words trailed off as he hastily dumped a bucket of water over my head, making me sputter again. “It can’t be your soul. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be at Mammon’s gate, looking like he’s gunning for the Lord of Wrath’s gig.”
His tongue swept over his lips, wetting them in thought. “I wonder if it’s that mortal heart.” His curious gaze dropped to the place between my breasts. “If I tore it from your chest, how long would it stay beating?”
