“No,” I said, denying him as I took another step back from him. “I’ll be fine. It’s just this fucking place.”
“I don’t think that’s true,” Beelzebub said, gesturing to my hold on my abdomen, on the center of my being where my magic waited. “When was the last time you had an orgasm, songbird?”
I didn’t answer, turning my gaze away as if he might see the answer in my eyes. As if he might somehow be able to read me and understand that I hadn’t ever experienced that pleasure. I didn’t want to become a slave to my desires, didn’t want to let my sins rule me. The best way to keep my sin at bay was to never allow myself to feel it, to never allow it to corrupt me in the way it had so many others.
Beelzebub came closer suddenly, grasping my face and turning me so I met his stare. His eyes were wide and shocked, bouncing over the lines of my face as he searched for a contradiction to what he’d already seen. “Margot,” he said, the worry in that tonesinking inside of me. The elders had warned me of the dangers of denying myself, of keeping it contained.
Eventually, the magic would take control. Eventually, it would erase my will and unleash itself on the closest target.
It had already tried, and only Beelzebub’s restraint had kept me from making a terrible mistake.
His restraint that shouldn’t have been possible under my spell. If it hadn’t been for the pain in my stomach, I might have spent more time trying to process what that meant, but I stored it away for another time.
But I would never let those warnings come to pass. I would never allow myself to become that monster. When we reached the day that I could no longer control it, that would be the day when I gave up altogether.
“I’m fine,” I said, straightening and standing tall, finally, as I shoved the pain down deep. As I tried to lock it away where he couldn’t see the agony I lived in every day. At some point, I’d gotten used to the deep throbbing pain, but every time I released it, every time I put it back into the cage of my body, it was like breaking the bone all over again.
Somehow worse than ever.
“Get on the fucking bed, Margot,” Beelzebub snapped, his eyes flaring with anger.
“You can’t fucking fix me, Beel,” I said, hating the sting of tears in my throat. I wanted nothing more than to be strong enough to shove them away, to not give in to the angry torrent coming my way.
“You aren’t broken, songbird,” he said, the gentle tone of his voice making my bottom lip tremble. “You just… need a little help taking that power back. Let me help you.”
“No,” I said, squaring my shoulders in spite of the tears falling down my cheeks.
“Then do it yourself at least,” he said, closing the distancebetween us. He took my hand in his, guiding it toward my center as I jolted back from the prospect.
“No,” I repeated.
“For fuck’s sake! I can’t just stand here and watch you suffer!”
“Then leave,” I said, already turning away from him. There was a shower in the bathroom, and I fully intended to set the temperature to freezing and plunge myself under the cascade. To chill my heated skin in an attempt to quell the desire and mingling pain.
Beelzebub’s mouth opened as if he might argue, his eyes darting over the determination on my face. He grimaced, his face twisting before I disappeared into the bathroom and locked myself in.
A few minutes passed before the door closed in the bedroom as Beelzebub left me to suffer alone.
Just the way I liked it.
22
BEELZEBUB
I snagged the bottle of Brimstone off the bar counter, ignoring the demon who glared at me for the theft. He backed down quickly enough, his ranking in Hell far too low to go toe-to-toe with an archdemon on Asmodeus’s behalf. I had no doubt he would report my infraction to my brother in arms, but I couldn’t have cared less.
I already felt the need to make sure I was with Margot at all times, a deep pulsing obsession that rivaled even the greatest of my gluttonous urges. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t recognized the symptoms of my newest obsession, but I’d never had apersonoccupy that space within me. Knowing that she was one second away from snapping? From losing every tendril of control that kept her from giving in to the darkest parts of magic that would make her a mindless, careless creature of nothing but impulse and urge?
She would never forgive herself for it, and yet she couldn’t seem to be convinced of the advantages of taking her own releases. Of giving herself the pleasure that would satiate at least the most violent of urges and enable her to maintain that careful balance of control without risking herself.
I picked an empty corner of the room, dropping down onto the love seat. It stunk of sex, and I had little doubt that whoever had occupied it before me hadn’t been gone for long. I fidgeteduncomfortably, avoiding touching the cushion with my bare hands.
Gross.
Amelia approached, a sly smile on her face as her stare dropped from my face and the bottle in my hands to the wet stain on my pants. I’d been in such a hurry to get away from Margot, to not have to witness her self-inflicted pain, that I hadn’t stopped to think about what had happened.
She’d made me come in my pants like a schoolboy, and now I wore the signs of that in the middle of a fucking orgy. Even worse, I’d been happy to do it, knowing that it was a step in the right direction. I hoped my restraint would help convince her that I was not only not under her spell, but also that she could trust me to protect her consent even when her magic tried to convince her to act outside of it.
