“You know I can’t let you do that, Lilith. You’re mortal until midnight, and the veil is practically non-existent right now. It’s too dangerous.”
Suddenly, Shem interjected. I watched him lean lazily back in his chair, crossing an ankle over his knee. He tossed a grape in the air and caught it effortlessly in his mouth while absently running his fingers through Gabriel’s thick auburn hair.
“Relax, Lil. Ramel hasn’t fucked another demon in over four thousand years. He’s been saving himself for you.” He winked at me. “I made sure of it.”
“I don’t care if he did.” I lied, and Shem barked out a laugh.
“Sure you don’t; that’s why you’re all tense and red.”
I narrowed my eyes on him, but he just grinned. “Chill, Lil, enjoy the feast. The pumpkin carving contest is starting soon, we’ll dance some more and have some drinks. Forget what Art said and have a good night. He’s never been one to accept his punishments gracefully. He was just having a temper tantrum.” He curled his fingers into Gabe’s hair and yanked his head back, looking him in the eyes with that dangerous grin still painted on his face.
“You’re not going to give me trouble like Art does, are you? You’re going to be a good boy.”
Gabriel licked his lips and glanced at the three of us nervously. Ramel cuddled me closer to him and smirked at the angel.
“Answer him, Gabe. Unless you want him to punish you too.”
“He’ll do it,” Jezebel confirmed, tugging on her ugly pink collar.
Gabriel swallowed, but the heat in his eyes was unmistakable. Ramel was right. A part of him wanted this. He wouldn’t have approached the table and offered to do whatever it took to earn Shem’s approval if he didn’t.
The rush of wetness that bloomed beneath my dress from watching him submit to Shem told me that as much as I denied it, I craved it too.
“Yes, Sir. I’ll be good,” Gabe said, and Shem’s grin widened.
“Such a good boy. Open up; you’ve earned another treat.” This time, when Gabe opened his mouth, Shem dropped a thick string of saliva onto his tongue. The angel’s eyes widened in shock, but he didn’t reject it. Shem looked like he had won the fucking lottery.
“Swallow and say thank you,” Shem ordered.
I felt Ramel harden beneath me as the angel did just that. Ramel gently rubbed my thigh and kissed the side of my neck.
I turned to look at him, still feeling the sting from the thought of him fucking Jezebel. Though the rush of arousal that had overcome me from watching Shem and Gabe’s little show had dampened the feelings of uneasiness.
“You promise you never fucked her?” I asked, quietly enough that I hoped no one else could hear.
The corner of Ramel’s mouth twitched.
“Would it bother you if I had?” he asked, running his fingers gently up and down the inside of my thigh. I squirmed in his lap, and he chuckled.
“Yes,” I finally admitted. There was no use in lying. Ramel’s smile widened, and my heart fluttered. He liked that it would have bothered me.
“I promise I’ve never fucked her, deathtrap. I have no intention of ever fucking anyone but you.” He leaned forward and kissed me softly.
“Now, finish your soup so we can start the next course. If you keep looking at me like that, I won’t make it through dinner without bending you over this table.”
“Magic is really very simple; all you’ve got to do is want something and then let yourself have it.”
—AGGIE CROMWELL, “HALLOWEENTOWN”
After the feast, Shem had the head table cleared and set with the pumpkins chosen for the contest. Lilith insisted that I participate this year.
“I picked a pumpkin for you and everything. Don’t waste it,” she pouted. Sighing, I conceded. It had never felt fair for me to enter the contest. With the power of decay, it was much easier for me than most to pull a design through the gourd’s flesh. Within seconds, I had rotted out a nearly perfect portrait of Lilith into the black pumpkin she had chosen for me. I smirked as I watched her scoop out the insides of her ivory pumpkin with her little tongue clenched between her teeth.
“Would you like some help, deathtrap?” I asked after she had finally finished with the guts and had moved on to drawing the design. She fingered her Sharpie, tapping it against her chin pensively.
“No, that’s cheating! I want to do it myself.”
I shrugged and leaned back against the table next to her, unable to keep the amused grin off my face as I watched her sketch out her design. My heart squeezed in my chest as she sketched what looked like the outline of the Grim Reaper, scythe and all, in the backdrop of a full moon. It was a simple design, but the fact that she was choosing to carve something that clearly symbolizedmemade my stomach flip.
