Astaroth’s face folded into fury, his vertical pupils narrowing into mere slits in anger.
“Theatrics? This is mylife, Leraje. This is what I do, day in and day out, until the end of time.” With a lazy flick of his wrist, Astaroth transformed the room into a tableau of agony. The servants collapsed as one, their bodies contorted into unnatural angles, their spines arching until I feared they might snap. Their wordless screams—all ragged, agonized sound coming from the empty spaces where their tongues should be—were more horrifying than anything I’d ever experienced. Their wet, desperate cries brought hot tears to my eyes, blurring my vision but not doing enough to shield me from the sight of their fingers clawing at the stone floor until their nails split and bled. Their collective suffering filled the room, choking me until I couldn’t breathe, a palpable wave of despair and hopelessness.
“Punishment is the name of the game here, or have you forgotten?” Another flick, and the servants twisted again, their bodies shaking and writhing in their torture. “This is what I was made to do,” Astaroth went on, paying nomind to the nightmare he was causing around us. “And if you weren’t so fucking full of yourself, you’d see that it was what you were made to do, as well.”
“I do my duty, Astaroth. I do more than you could ever imagine.”
“Ah, yes. Of course. YourBrotherhood.” He said that word distastefully, as though it offended him. “Stand against the chaos, do you? Such bullshit. Wearethe chaos!” Chest heaving, Astaroth seethed, his lips pulled back in a snarl. “Tell me, Archer. Does your little witch really know what you do in the shadows? Does she know how many witches you’ve killed since they turned their backs on you after Salem? How many of her kind you are personally responsible for sending to me?” Another gesture of his hand and the groans of the servants were cut off. I stared at them, pale, panting bodies laying on the floor, their agony nothing but a game to the demon who ruled them. “Look at their faces, Archer. See anyone you recognize?”
Chapter thirty-four
Archer
I didn’t want to look, not at the tortured souls that I may have sent to their doom, nor at Delilah, whose innocent gaze would probably sear me to my core.
Icouldn’tlook at her, not if it would mean seeing the horror on her face that I was sure she must be feeling at Astaroth’s announcement. Being in theUmbra Fratrummeant eliminating threats no matter the species. If she didn’t understand that, then it only further proved how naïve she truly was.
Shame flooded me as soon as I’d thought the words. Delilah was precious, delicate and soft in a way that appealed to my demon heart more than I would havedared to admit.
And yet, she’d also proved herself strong in so many ways. Naïve was the last word that should have been used to describe her.
Still, the guilt settled across my shoulders like a yoke, heavy enough to choke me if I dared to let it.
So many souls. So many lives crushed beneath the weight of expectations that I never wanted to bear.
But bear them I did.
For the greater good.
A touch on my arm startled me, and I glanced down to see Delilah standing beside me, her wide eyes looking at me with acceptance and understanding.
“It’s okay, Archer,” she whispered, a small, sad smile on her lips. “I’m here.” Giving my arm a reassuring squeeze, she stepped back again, and I mourned the loss of her touch.
Returning my eyes to the insufferable incubus before me, I exhaled, readying myself. I knew what he would ask, but I was ready to be done with him and his revolting kingdom.
“Name your price,” I hissed, my muscles tight as I stared Astaroth down. I may not have had access to my magic, but in this form I was still very much a threat to him, and he knew it. “Name it, and we’ll be gone.”
“You know my price, Leraje,” Astaroth said quietly, his gaze sliding to Delilah speculatively. “You simply have to decide if you’re willing to pay it.”
I wanted to. Curse me to the second circle for eternity, but I fucking wanted to. The very idea of paying Astaroth’s price filled me with lust, my whole body strung tight as a bowstring.
“Archer?” Delilah asked from behind me, her tone hesitant as though she could sense the change in me. The danger. “What does he want?”
“It’s quite simple, darling,” Astaroth said, reclining once again in his stupid chair and offering her a charming smile that hid the monster beneath. “I’m an incubus. I want what all incubi want.” Drawing a dramatic breath, he placed one hand on his own chest, his fingers dancing lightly over the exposed skin at his open shirt, then moving further down, cupping his cock through his dark pants. “I want sex.”
Delilah sucked in a gasp, but still I still couldn’t look at her, this time because I didn’t want her to see my face. I couldn’t let her see the lust I was certain was painted plainly across my demonic features.
Because as much as I hated Astaroth, hated his bullshit attitude and the way he ran his realm like some kind offucked up freak show, I couldn’t deny that I was feeling seriously fucking conflicted at the moment.
Because the idea of paying his price—and paying it with Delilah—was fucking turning me on like nothing before.
“Sex?” she asked, the word sounding so sinfully delicious on her tongue.
“Why yes,” he purred, his hand continuing to stroke his engorged cock through his pants. “An orgasm, to be specific.”
“Whose orgasm?” she asked, and this time I did look at her, because, what the fuck? How had she known to ask that? How had she even thought to negotiate a deal?
Clearly, I had been far too busy thinking of all the ways I wanted to enjoy her that I’d dropped the fucking ball.
