I shivered, moving to shield my tits from his hungry gaze, and he leaned so close, his breath spilled over my neck with his next words. “I bet he gets off on the feeling of it beating when he’s buried inside you.”
Suddenly, without warning, he snatched my shoulder in one arm to keep me still and thrust the brush between my legs. I yelped as the rough material of the loofah scraped over my most sensitive parts.
“Settle down, little rat, or I just might have to drown you to shut you up. Mammon doesn’t need you breathing to eat you.”
I wanted to spit into his face—or maybe take a go at lunging at him and biting off one of his noses—but I thought better of it.It was clear he hated me for my relationship with Belial. It was painfully obvious how jealous he was. But maybe there was still a chance at convincing him that his plan, whatever it was, was better than letting Mammon have me for dinner.
“What? What happened to your fight, little rat? I was just starting to have fun with you.”
“I don’t know what you want from me,” I seethed, trying to ignore the fiery pit of rage building in my chest and failing miserably.
“I want you to entertain me,” he said, as if the answer was obvious. “I’ve been around for so long, rat. It’s the same fucking thing every day, and there aren’t any new souls to torture anymore, thanks to you and that human woman Belial was obsessed with before.”
I bit my tongue so hard, the metallic tang of my own blood bloomed in my mouth. Of course, the demon lords blamed me for the lack of souls Belial judged these days. They couldn’t fathom that sometime in the last thousand years or so, the Lord of Bones had grown a heart, that he would rather create afterlives in his library instead of throwing the souls en masse down the Styx.
After an awkward moment of silence and aimless scrubbing, its only purpose seeming to be to make my skin ache, he tossed the brush to the floor with a bored sigh and stood. To my horror, he climbed into the bathtub.
“What are you doing?” I screamed, instantly fighting to put space between us. He stood there, looming over me, his tented loincloth swinging dangerously close to my face.
“I warned you I might bathe with you. What’s the matter? Does Asmodeus make you uncomfortable?” A chuckle rumbled in his chest, and the water sloshed as he stepped closer. “Come on, little rat. You must have a masochistic streak to enjoy our Lord of Bones’ bedroom preferences.”
“You can’t exactly compare the two, can you?” I spat, backing up until my back hit the porcelain. “One is a monster, lying dead in his disgusting pit, alone and rotting. The other is a fuckinggod.”
I wished I could gulp back my words, but it was too late. I’d let it slip that Asmodeus was dead, and judging by the look on Belphegor’s face, this didn’t come as good news.
“So, the Lord of Lechery is dead,” Belphegor mused, his dark eyes bright with loathing. “Belial’s handiwork, no doubt.”
I steeled myself, waiting for the hammer to drop, because there was no way he wasn’t going to blame me for Asmodeus’ death.
“He’s coming for all of us, isn’t he?” It seemed like more of a rhetorical question, but something dark flashed behind his eyes when the words left his mouth.
Suddenly, he bent down, snatching my hair and throwing my head back until it felt like my neck might snap.
I wanted to be brave. After all I’d been through, after getting bent over and forced to take all this shit I never asked for, I wanted nothing more than to look the Lord of Gluttony in his eyes—or rather, Asmodeus’ six beady eyes currently staring me down—and spit in them.
Now that he knew the real Asmodeus was dead, the ferry had probably sailed on convincing Belphegor not to let his boyfriend eat me.
So, if I was going to die, I wanted to die fighting.
But there was something about looking into the three demonic faces of the demon who’d assaulted me with my neck precious millimeters from being snapped that froze me over.
Belphegor sneered at the naked fear on my face as he forced his hand between my thighs.
I thrashed as hard as the excruciating hold he had over me would allow, but he anchored my head back further, forcing me still as he cupped my mound.
“How many of us are going to die all because of Belial’s obsession with this mortal pussy?” I gasped when he spread my lips and ran a teasing finger up and down my opening. “I don’t fucking get it. It’s just like any other fucking cunt…”
I would have sold my soul to another devil all over again to have my twat grow teeth in this moment and chomp off Belphegor’s hands.
My jaw clenched. My nostrils flared. Pure hatred swept over me like a fever, making me feel cold despite the scalding hot water I was half submerged in. “I didn’t ask to be kidnapped. Your precious Lord of Rape is dead because you sick fucks couldn’t keep your hands off me. If you’d left me alone, none of this would have fucking happened. Now, Belial is on a war path, and you’re going to die like fucking dogs.”
I expected Belphegor to double down on his rage, but instead, that amused smirk locked back in place as he lowered me back into the water. “Well, what’s done is done. If we’re going to die, might as well have ourselves a littlecelebration.Seven thousand years or so, give or take a few centuries, is a decent run.”
Before I could dare ask him what kind of celebration he had in mind, he forced my wrists into the manacles bolted to the sides of the bathtub. A chill shot up my spine at the iron locking into place with a loudclink.
There was a splash as Belphegor—still in Asmodeus’ form—fell to his knees in the bath before me and grabbed the basket of herbs and spices. He cackled as he dumped the whole thing over my head and started massaging the salty mixture into my skin.
His touch was rough and lingered in the places he noticed made me thrash the most.
