Page 13 of The River of Fire
Hoping I’m not about to give a painful new definition to walking on coals, I jump and hurtle through the air, landing on stone after stone, then jump across the last of the distance to the other side of the bank. I land on my hands and knees, and take a quick look heavenward in gratitude that my steps were sure and fast enough, and that I wasn’t deep-fried or grilled. As the golem is still approaching, I scramble up to my feet and start running again. The burst of speed cost me too much energy and I can feel myself slowing down.
I glance behind me just in time to see the golem cross the river and smash one of the stones under its heavy weight, landing on one knee, and trampling another of the boulders I crossed on. There’s now no way for me to get back.
Well, I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it. Or not, I guess.
I seize the opportunity to take stock of the area I have found myself in. On this side of the river, the ground feels like earth compressed by centuries of pressure into a hard, dusty surface. There’s a stack of boulders twenty or more feet tall to my right.
“Work smarter, not harder,” I mutter to myself, and run towards it just as the golem finds his footing and crosses the river. I climb up and don’t stop to think of the many, many ways that this could go wrong. I stand on a precarious ledge facing The Phlegethon, and wait for my foe.
The construct charges at me, smashing into the boulders. I get thrown back as the golem gets buried under the rocks. The plan almost worked, surprisingly enough, but then I didn’t account for the force of the crash sending the smaller stones in the samedirection as I fell, which,duh.
One of said stones rolls right onto my right leg and I scream in surprise and pain. I don’t think anything is broken, but it hurts like a motherfucker, and a sprain is inevitable. I eye the stone and wonder if I can push it off myself, and if doing so would actually crush something.
Before I gather the courage to act, the mound of boulders where the golem is buried begins to stir, and the construct itself bursts out.
I’m screwed.
Chapter 9 – Ashtaroth
There's a lost sheep in my playground. The lamb is tall, with straight auburn hair pulled into a severe ponytail. She somehow manages to look both innocent and confident. I observe her struggle with the golem, the way she moves, and the choices she makes. A well-trained, strategic entity. I watch her with curiosity, which is more than I have bothered to feel in… centuries? Eons?
There is something familiar about her. She is clearly one of the ‘soldiers’ the Council acquired to assist with our little problem. So, she’s a halfling of some sort, and I wonder whether it’s the angelic or demonic kind. There’s that curiosity. It is surprising and intriguing, and I’m not yet ready to part with this newfound reemergence of emotion.
As the golem approaches the little lamb pinned under the rocks, it does so with as much relish as such a creature can feel. She must have given it quite the chase. The slight wrenching feeling I get in my gut – clearly the unwillingness to have this curiosity disposed of so quickly – decides my next move for me. I swipe out my arm and unleash a burst of hellfire, which disintegrates the stone pinning the auburn-haired lamb. More importantly, it disintegrates the bonds holding the creature together and, as it flies back into The Phlegethon, it disassembles into inert stones.
The lost sheep recovers from the surprising turn of events quickly and her head snaps in my direction as if drawn by a magnet. I wonder if she would have sensed me, had she not been distracted. My gaze follows a drop of perspiration which lovingly slides down her neck. I wonder how the sweat of her exertion smells. More curiosity.
I grin and disappear into the ether. It’s time to show my intriguing, fiery curiosity, who the shepherd is in this area of Hell.
Chapter 10 – Lana
I’m pretty sure a demon lord just saved me from a golem. Nothing I have yet encountered while down here has had this astonishing amount of power, the sheer oppressive and suffocating presence that makes you want to bow to your betters. Seeing as I’m still splayed out on my back, I went a step further than bowing. I laugh to myself in disbelief. What the fuck.
I roll to my stomach, then climb up to my knees and plant my good foot down. I brace my hands on my knee to stand up and test how much weight my abused leg can hold. I mean, I’m not going to be running another sprint today, that’s for sure, but I can, surprisingly enough, hobble a step forward.
I look around and try to sense anyone still lingering in the vicinity. There’s nothing at all. He vanished into thin air, and his aura of malice with him.
I need to get back to Kevin before some lucky imp makes a meal out of him. I’m not losing him like we lost Simone. I don’t think I could handle something happening to him.
As I limp past the now more scattered stack of boulders, I gasp from the electricity I suddenly feel, thousands of pinpricks over every inch of my skin. A gloved hand wraps around my throat and pushes me against the boulders. I recover from the surprising sensations and look up (and further up) at the demon standing there.
“Holy fuck…” I gasp, my eyes widening and my mouth falling open.
The side of the demon’s lip twitches into an almost-smile. “Not quite,” he whispers patronizingly, both words carefully enunciated. The whisper is laced with arrogance and I have no doubt he believes himself superior. Despite feeling that he’s condescending to me, his voice hooks itself into my lower stomach and tugs the insides towards him. It’s like my womb and ovaries want to escape my body and worship their new owner. I must be ovulating or something, because there’s no way I’m getting a daddy demon breeding kink right now.
“Perhaps an unholy fuck?” The demon finishes, and this time he does curl his lips into an arrogant smile, his eyes narrowing imperceptibly. The way he holds his chin tilted upwards makes me feel like I’m a subject kneeling in front of the throne he’s sat on.
His eyes begin to follow a path down my body, audaciously exploring me with his gaze. He deliberately stops at the apex of my thighs, then leisurely continues his survey back up to my face, his smug smile widening once our eyes meet, as if he’s relishing the upper hand. Plumes of fire now glow in his amber irises.
I really hope he has no idea that what I’m experiencing right now isn’t just fear. That his dominant perusal flicked a neglected switch inside me. What the fuck, Lana, no. No.Bad girl.
But his smell is all around me, like marshmallows and wood smoke, and fuck, they should bottle it for posterity.
I can’t help but catalog the being holding me captive against the boulder by my throat, his hand splayed in dominance. Raven-wing black hair caresses his face in a careless way that’s probably unintentional, but men everywhere would spend hours of their lives trying to achieve the same. There’s a crown on his head, resting over a slight widow’s peak and an expressive brow. The material is like nothing I’ve encountered before; it seems to suck the light out of its surroundings and glow with darkness.
He watches me admiring him as my gaze moves down over straight, slashing black brows, past those glowing, calculating eyes and a strong blade of a nose, to thepiece de resistance– that mouth. Sweet baby Jesus, I have never seen a more attractive mouth on a male, with a strong and defined bow, and a lower lip full enough to nibble on for hours. That mouth twitches under my gaze and I tear my eyes away from it, over his defined cheekbones and strong jaw, past his strong neck, to the collarbone I can see peeking out of his armor. His skin is a golden tan and the size of his body matches his towering height – he’s muscled. Not like some of the brawlers in Ramel’s group, but with functional lean cords of muscle, down from his wide shoulders to the long, strong legs. A body that’s meant for the battlefields of Hell.
I bite my lower lip and he chuckles, just two expelled breaths of air that hit my cheeks with incredible warmth. With a shake of my head, I snap out of my reverie and my eyes refocus. I need to mentally slap myself back into the land of sanity – I’m ogling a demon strong enough to snap my neck with as much effort as it took to expel that breathy laugh, and a part of me thinks I would appreciate it because the death would come from his hands. This absolutely magnetic, beautiful creature was created to be perfection, and my brain is short-circuiting. I meet his burning gaze and try to speak. “What…” I choke on air and clear my throat, then try again. “What do you want?”
