One thing was clear: his wrists were chained, and he was lying on a cold, hard stone floor.
Oh, yeah. He was being held prisoner. Sometimes, he forgot. Because who would want to remember?
“You’re awake. Finally.”
The female voice, as cold and sinuous as a serpent, sent terror slithering down his spine. And it was too late to pretend he was still unconscious.
Footsteps drew closer, and his already parched mouth went even drier. Black high heels appeared in front of his face, and before he could shift away, one of them smashed into his cheek.
Agony shot through his jaw, and blood spurted onto the ground. He watched in morbid fascination as the stone absorbed it, drinking it like a sponge.
Suddenly, she fisted his hair, wrenched his head back, and hurled him against the wall. More pain crashed through him, and he figured she’d just broken his pelvis. Definitely some ribs. And the thing that really sucked was that he no longer healed instantly. He’d lost that perkwhen the Thrones cut off his wings and booted him from Heaven. The only way to get it back was to enter Sheoul and become a True Fallen angel, complete with leathery wings, powerful abilities, and an evil soul.
No thanks. He’d rather be an Unfallen, stuck between realms and as helpless as a human infant. It sucked, but at least his soul would remain uncorrupted.
But is it? Really? After what happened to Hutriel?
Ruthlessly, he shoved the memory of his battle with the angel on Stryke’s oil rig into the deepest recesses of his mind and concentrated on his current predicament.
His arms trembled as he pushed himself up until he was leaning on his side against the wall and staring at his tormentor. The worst of three females who had been torturing him for…how long? He had no idea. Months, probably. Felt like years.
“What are you going to do to me today, Lilith?” he croaked.
She crouched down on her heels, her legs spread wide to reveal…everything. As a succubus, the most infamous sex demon in history, and the mother of the Four Horsemen, she enjoyed showing off her body. And using it for both pleasure and pain. Mainly, she took her pleasure from others’ pain.
Gabriel had given the bitch a lot of pleasure.
He shuddered, his body reacting to his thoughts and maybe out of dread of whatever she was about to do to him. At least she was alone. When the others joined in, the horrors were so much worse.
“I’m not going to do anything to you,” Lilith said. “If you agree to enter Sheoul.”
“This again?” He snorted, which turned into a cough that produced blood clots. Cool. Lung damage, too. When he recovered, he rasped, “It’ll never happen. Never!” He slid down the wall a little, too exhausted to fight gravity. “Evil whore. You’ll have to drag me to Hell.”
In a flash of pale motion, her sharp nails flayed his cheek wide open. “Turning Unfallen angels evil by force is for losers. When the decision is made of one’s own free will, their corruption is total. My rewards for convincing an UnfallenArchangelto willingly enter Hell will be beyond imagining. The Dark Lord is generous with those who please him.” Her hand drifted between her legs as the prospect of being rewarded by Satan himself seduced her. “He will fill me with such…power,” she moaned.
She would have a long wait. Two powerful brothers, Revenant and Reaver, the Horsemen’s father, had locked Satan away for a thousandyears, and there were still nine hundred and fifty odd years to go. In the meantime, Revenant ran Hell, and as far as Gabriel knew, he wasn’t Lilith’s biggest fan.
“I’m sure Revenant will have something to say about that,” he said, reminding the bitch queen that, while she was incredibly powerful, she was also in hiding. Apparently, Revenant had called for her head.
She hissed, her shiny fangs glinting in the smoky torchlight. Her palm cracked against his injured cheek, her nails scoring more tears in his already damaged flesh. He tested it with his tongue, and…yep, it poked all the way through his cheek.
“Never say his name!”
“Ah.” Okay, he got it now. “That’s why you want me to voluntarily enter Hell, isn’t it? If you drag me down there, you think I’ll tell Revenant how to find you.” Entering Hell by choice rather than against his will would embed the evil even deeper into his being and make him more likely to join Team Satan than Team Revenant. “And yet, you keep torturing me.”
“Torturing you?” She threw her head back and laughed. “Pain isn’t torture. It’s pleasure.” She reached down and wrapped her hand around his flaccid cock. “And this,” she purred, “is the gateway to both.”
His gut roiled at the feel of her palm on his sex, her hand pumping slowly up and down. He never got hard for her or the other two whores—at least, not without the potions they forced down his throat. Usually, he puked them back up, but they still did the job they were meant for.
Then he threw up again after they used him for their demented desires.
“You’re going to submit to me, Gabriel,” she said. “I don’t care how long it takes. Youwillsubmit to me.”
“Never,” he growled. “I’m anArchangel. I will never kneel to a demon.”
Her fingernails dug into his cock, and he hissed in pain. “Youwerean Archangel, until your Heavenly brethren betrayed and abandoned you. Now, you’re mine.” She pushed to her feet slowly, sensually. “Kneel between my thighs, Gabriel. Use that wicked tongue and your new fangs the way I like it.”
He hated the reminder that his body was shedding angel attributes and replacing them with evil downgrades. His holy glow had been snuffed, and now he had baby fangs that kept cutting his lip. If he entered Hell, he’d get wings, powers, and even bigger fangs to slice uphis tongue and mouth. “Fuck you.”
