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“You are a male worthy of the finest this existence has to offer, Leviathon. I have never been worthy enough, but I never questioned our bond before her. Afterwards, I questioned everything. I questioned my faith in the Almighty, my trust in myself, and in what I could sacrifice to make you happy. What was too much? Had I lost too much already? After what she did . . . I felt used, broken, unlovable and so, so dirty. Dirty in such a way I never thought I’d get clean again. I doubted my judgment as a Shadow Hound.”
Athon’s shocked gasp surrounded him. His reputation as one of the formidable Devil's 13 had never been questioned, as far as he’d known. He’d never let them see his self-doubt.
“Don’t worry, Caine kicked my ass so hard for that one, and does so again every now and then as a reminder, that it was pretty much permanently knocked out of me. Apparently I’d temporarily forgotten that, unlike certain know-it-alls, I can’t see the auras and possible intentions of other angels.” The rueful tug of his lips as he said this earned him a quick kiss followed by a sweetly masculine whimper of longing. He couldn’t help but think this shit needed to be done quickly so he could get back to getting more of those noises out of Athon’s pretty mouth.
“Okay, I’m just going to lay it out. It’s probably going to be word vomit, but I just want it done. Just let me get it all out, please.” It wasn’t a question, and he knew Athon wouldn’t answer it as one.
Roth took several big deep breaths, trying desperately to calm his racing heart and the tremors that were running through his extremities. Once he felt like he had a semblance of control over his roiling emotions he linked the fingers of both hands with Athon’s and tilted his head back to look at the ceiling. Feeling his vision fade and the past take over.
“The night she requested we spend some alone time together, just the two of us, we both assumed it was so that we could form a closer bond, move past whatever awkwardness remained. What happened was not something I expected or thought possible.” His voice broke when he uttered the last sentence.
“We ate together, it was pleasant, light conversation abounded. She served wine, red, from Florence, Chianti, which considering more recent movies is quite ironic. As we sipped and chatted she refilled the glass several times and started asking me rather pointed questions. The answers I gave didn’t feel like they were truly mine, like my will was being pushed aside. It seemed to make her happy, and she smiled at me in a way she never had before. It was filled with excitement, but also so much malicious intent that my spine tingled in warning and as I went to leap to my feet . . . She spoke only two words: sit down. The command was softly spoken but my body snapped into action without my agreement, and, sit down I did.
“She approached me, gripped my face between her hands and said, “Those who stand idly by are just as guilty as those who wield the whip.” She created a portal and took me through to some Hell forsaken place. I had no will of my own.
“Every day a new potion was administered and I’d have to drink it because my body obeyed her, even if my mind rebelled. The bitch would ask me questions, but my answers weren’t the right ones, and so she lashed at me with her powers, her fists, blades, whips, basically anything she had at hand. All the while accusing me of heinous things. After a while she seemed to realize that I didn’t just have to do what she told me to do, I also had to say what she told me to say. She used this to make me say disgusting things, admit to disgusting things that I would never do. She made me renounce you, our love, even my oath to Lucifer and the Hounds. It broke me down, and the voice in my head that she refused to hear, refused to let me use, started to slowly drive me insane.
“I don’t know how long I sat on that bench, the chains on my wrists keeping me upright, stripped naked, caked in dirt and sweat, but mostly blood. My blood. Oh, how I wished it was hers.
“Then one day she entered and seemed to hesitate, she looked almost bored and a little sad. It didn’t last, though. She’d apparently decided she was to be done with me. I’d have welcomed death. How sad is that? Death would have been a kindness she obviously didn’t think me worthy of, though.
“Instead, she retreated from the room and two people entered, older angels, though I couldn’t see their faces, they too seemed familiar. What followed was . . .” He paused to press a hand to his stomach, a valiant attempt to stem the tide of sickness he felt. Slowly, the roiling calmed to a ripple and his breathing evened out.
“They used me. In every way conceivable. Violated every boundary I ever held dear. Took my consent away from me. And all the while I uttered the words they told me to say. I made the noises they told me to make, and I moved where and how they told me to move. Like a lapdog doing their bidding. They beat me and bedded me. Broke me down and left me empty, nothing but a husk filled with shattered slivers of who I thought I’d been." A solitary tear slipped free and Athon reached up to brush it aside with the pad of his thumb.
“Once they left she came back in. Looked me dead in the eye and told me to never forget what it felt like, she hoped it haunted me for the rest of my eternal days, and so far it has. She spit on me, unchained me and shoved me through the portal back to where the whole sordid ordeal began.”
No sooner were the last words out Roth leapt from the bed and ran, stumbling on shaky legs to the toilet. The contents of his stomach unable to stay down a moment longer.
Athon’s strong, yet gentle hand rubbed soothing circles over his back as he knelt behind him, ready to brace him once he was done. Resting his head on his forearm he felt shame course through him, and he was momentarily terrified of seeing his shame and Athon’s pity reflected back at him if he chanced a glance at Athon’s beautiful eyes.
“Whatever you are afraid of, Corazón, worry not. You are not less to me for all you have endured. You are so much stronger than I ever thought. Ashamed is never how you should feel with me, and I shall never be ashamed of thee.” Athon’s soft warm breath and loving words brought Roth a sense of calm he’d not felt in centuries, he wanted to latch on and never let go.
Without words Athon rose and started the shower. Spice scented fog filled the air and Roth found himself helped to his feet and guided into the warm water. Thank God the shower was big enough for the two of them, he wasn’t sure he’d have been able to hold himself up without Athon’s steady strength supporting him. He felt Athon’s soap covered hands cleaning his body, it felt amazing, and yet he was still a little detached from it all.
Luckily Athon seemed to understand where his mind was at and that he needed to come back from his nightmarish past slowly. He took his time, making sure Roth was ready before shutting the water off, and guiding him out. They dried off in silence, Athon doing most of it when Roth’s hands fumbled with the towel.
They made it back to the bed and Athon tucked Roth into the warmth of his body. Normally he’d have been the big spoon but Roth needed this more than he’d realized. The blankets cocooned them in a layer of protection from the non-existent chill of the room, like armor against the ghosts of the past.
“Sleep, Azaroth. We can discuss that other thing another time. I’m assuming it was about that realistic sex dream that left both our hands covered in her juices and our cocks spent, without any cum to show for it?” he murmured softly.
Roth could only nod his head in stupefaction. How had he figured it out?
“I had time in the shower to think about a lot of things. Especially that dream and how you devoured my fingers. I’m betting it was an astral dream, as unlikely as it is, those are hard to do at the best of times. I’ve never heard of a situation like ours though.”
It made sense, but it was another thing he felt guilty for. Lucifer had staked a claim. He felt stuck. He would never go against his General, but he couldn’t control these dreams. Angels weren’t even meant to dream. So astral sex made more sense, except for those times he’d seen her, and she hadn’t appeared to see him. Those had to be dreams, right? It was so damn confusing.
“Relax, mi vida, we can figure it out later. We won’t go against our friend, our leader. We will help him find her, and see how it all plays out though. She feels right for us. And I say that on a completely different level to the last time I uttered those words. One thing’s for certain though, until we know what is happening with her and Luc, we keep the details of the dreams and anything about her to ourselves. No need for Luc to bring out the devil inside again.”
Roth absolutely agreed 100 percent. He drifted off to a dreamless sleep with Athon’s warmth curled around him and strong arms holding him close.
Chapter 11
She’d stomped out of his office over an hour ago, yet Balthazar’s gaze was still locked on the lavender fields that surrounded his own private domain. Sure, beings could come and go, some openly and some by invitation only, but it was his domain. Currently, he only had one being in residence who couldn’t leave of their own free will, and she was beginning to become a bigger problem than he’d expected. The question was, and seemed to always be, what to do about the mystery that was Jezzie. He never thought it’d be eight freaking years later and he’d still be no closer to any solid answers. Try as he might the answer eluded him, and the longer he stared at those rolling meadows the more he thought of her . . . Not his reluctant guest, that termagant, Jezzie, but her, his Beth.
Soon enough the scenery disappeared, and her face was all he could see. Sucking him into the past, tumbling him down the rabbit hole, and into memories that battered him like a storm; with its lulls and quiet whispers, and its harsh and brutal beatings.
She’d been so much better than he. The best of humankind. Oh, how he’d loved her, waxed poetic of her beauty and fallen at her feet. Oh, how she’d laughed and batted her lashes, pushed at his shoulders and gently scolded him for his joking. Only, he hadn’t been. She’d been the light in the monotony of his existence up to that point. And oh, how brightly she’d flared.
