“That was...incroyable,” I finally manage.
Az chuckles, the sound vibrating through his chest against my cheek. “You continue to surprise me, little fairy.”
I reach up to touch his face, tracing the scaled contours that are so different yet somehow still him. “And you continue to surprise me... Asmodeus.”
It's the first time I've used his true name withoutanger or accusation. Something shifts in his expression, a vulnerability I've rarely glimpsed, and he sighs with contentment.
“I will never lie to you again,” he vows, his tail curling protectively around us. “No more secrets between us.”
I don't know if I can fully forgive him yet for three years of deception. I don't know what the future holds for us or for our child. But in this moment, wrapped in his demonic embrace, covered in his essence, watched by his subjects, I feel... at peace.
31
ASMODEUS
Iwatch Simone from the doorway as she sketches baby clothes, her hand moving across the page with a confidence born from hours of practice. The swell of her belly has become even more pronounced in recent weeks, a visible testament to our growing child.
It's been nearly a month since I showed her my true form, since I stripped away the last of my deceptions and stood naked—literally and figuratively—before her. The memory of her acceptance, of her wanting me even in my demonic form, still stuns me. With her aversion to demons and our bumpy start, it's as close to a miracle as Hell can offer.
“Are you going to lurk there all day?” Simone asks without looking up, a smile playing at the corners of her lips.
“Perhaps.” I push off from the doorframe and move toward her. “The view is exceptional.”
She rolls her eyes, but I catch the faint blush coloring her cheeks. We're still finding our way back to each other, her trust rebuilding slowly.
I sit beside her on the sofa, my eyes drawn to her sketch. “You've been designing quite a lot lately.”
“I'm nesting, I think.” She gestures to her rounded belly. “Though I'm not sure what kind of clothes a baby demon needs.”
“The same as any other baby, just with more room for wings and tails,” I deadpan.
Simone laughs, then freezes, eyes wide open. “Will they have wings right away? Or horns?”
“No, little fairy.” I run my hand through her hair, gratified when she leans into my touch. “Since you're mostly human, they'll only be able to call on those later, if at all.”
She nods, then hesitates, her pencil stilling. “Az, can I ask you something personal?”
I tilt my head. “You're carrying my child and bound to me for eternity. I think we're well past the point of personal boundaries.”
“It's about your other children.” Her voice is careful, measured. “You've mentioned having hundreds, but you never really talk about them.”
Ah. This conversation was inevitable, I suppose. “What would you like to know?”
“Do you... love them?” As the question hangs between us, I realize no one has ever asked me that before. Love is the least important thing in Hell.
I consider deflecting, but I promised her honesty. “I don't know if I've ever loved them the way humans love their offspring. I've taken pride in those who've distinguished themselves. I've even been fond of some.”
Simone's brow furrows. “But not love?”
“Love wasn't something archdemons were meant to feel, little fairy. All but me were made in Elysium to serve and worship God. And me, well…” I take her hand, brushing my thumb across her knuckles. “Until you, I'm not sure I understood it at all.”
Her expression softens with a mixture of sadness and tenderness. “And our baby?”
“Our child will be different.” The certainty in my voice surprises even me. “You've changed me, Simone. Taught me things I thought were beyond my capacity.” I place my palm on her belly. “This child will know love.”
She covers my hand with hers, and we sit in silence for a moment.
“I'd like to meet some of your children,” she says finally. “If that's possible.”
