Page 42 of Unholy Bond
“Save their teeth,” I said. “I like to see the souveniers.”
He grinned. “As you wish.”
One refusal bought us the rest.
Chapter 22: Lilith
Lucifer slammed the door to his private chambers with a force that would have buckled the hinges if they weren’t already overengineered for demonic tantrums. In one movement, he shredded the wrap around his waist, the red of his cock already glistening, then stalked toward me with hands outstretched.
The first slap knocked my head sideways. I took it with a smile and a shudder of anticipation, letting my tongue flick out to catch the bead of blood from my split lip. He backhanded me next, a blow that would have decapitated any mortal. Instead, it sent me to the floor. He loomed over me, and I spread my thighs, a show of surrender, but also a promise.
He grabbed a handful of my hair, wrenched me to my feet, and bent me over the trophy case. My cheek mashed against a display of shriveled cherub heads, each mouth still puckered in the O of a scream. He ripped my gown off with a single gesture, fingers raking down my back in ten parallel gouges. The flesh parted, blood slicked my ass and thighs.
He plunged into me with no warning, no preamble. His cock was inhuman in both length and circumference, its surface ridgedand veined. He speared me again and again, grinding my hips into the glass so hard I thought it would shatter. But I moaned, loud, obscene, animalistic. The Void inside me licked at his violence, growing hungrier, thicker, more present.
Lucifer bit my shoulder, his fangs punching through to the bone, and I keened for him, clutching and bucking against him as he rammed me. My cunt stretched to accommodate, walls clenching and releasing in a rhythm older than Hell itself. Every thrust sent electric agony up my spine, but I savored it; I begged for more.
He pulled out and spun me to face him. His eyes, black as extinction, raked over my torn dress and leaking wounds. He pushed me down to my knees. “Worship,” he commanded, and I did. I took him in, every inch. He pulled out and used my skull as a handle, fucking my face with abandon, painting my lips and chin with spit and pre-cum.
When he was close, he yanked me up and threw me onto the bed. I landed hard, bounced, and splayed myself. I traced a finger down my chest, collecting blood and cum and licking it off with a slow, deliberate show.
“My king,” I purred, “let me serve you.”
He climbed onto the bed, crouched over me, and pinned my arms above my head. He kissed me, deep and bruising, teeth shredding the inside of my cheek. His dick found my slit again and he drove home, full force, the head of it battering my cervix with every thrust.
I used the rhythm of his movements to time my spellwork. With every moan, I traced a sigil on his lower back, running invisible lines with my nails. The Void inside me unfurled, tendrils of blackness writhing up my arms, invisible to him but very real tome. They snaked under my fingernails, extending through my hands, and with every pelvic thrust, I stabbed another line of the rune into his skin.
The runes were ancient, older than the Prince of Hell, older than me. They curled and intersected, each one an insult and a promise. The Void was eager, coiling tighter and tighter in anticipation, but I held it back, made it wait for the moment.
Lucifer’s thrusts went ragged, hips spasming, claws digging into the mattress. “You were always my favorite,” he growled. “Perfect and poisonous.” His tongue darted to my ear. “I’ll keep you forever.”
I squeezed his cock with every muscle, milked him for all he was worth. “Then fuck me harder,” I whispered, “and let’s see who survives.”
He obliged. The bedframe cracked. My hips bruised. At the instant of climax, I drove both hands down his back, nails sinking deep into the flesh, and released the full force of the Void.
It poured out of me like an orgasmic shriek. Black tendrils split his skin, wrapped around his heart, branded the runes into every muscle, every nerve. He howled, voice breaking, but the pleasure was so immense he kept thrusting, kept cumming, kept rutting until he was empty.
When he collapsed atop me, trembling, the runes on his back glowed for a moment, then faded, their work done. The power transfer rippled through me. First like a shot of heroin, then like a second sun igniting in my chest. Every hair on my body stood erect. My cunt pulsed, swallowing the last spurts of his orgasm, milking him dry.
Lucifer rolled off, breathing hard, eyes unfocused. “What did you—?” he started, but couldn’t finish. The Void had latched onto his soul, draining him, leaving him a beautiful, empty thing.
I climbed onto his chest, pinned his wrists, and kissed him. It was gentle, now. Grateful. “Thank you, my king,” I said, “for your service.”
He tried to lift his hand to my throat, but the will had gone out of him. His eyes pleaded, but I just smiled.
The Void purred in triumph, its appetite sated, its purpose complete.
I let Lucifer rest, then rose and found a robe in his closet, one made of demon-skin and lined in wolf fur. It fit perfectly. I looked around the trophy room, then at the man who’d once ruled all of it.
It was mine now.
I left him sprawled on the bed, skin marked with runes that would never heal. As I walked to the door, he whimpered, very soft, almost like a prayer.
Chapter 23: Lilith
The throne room had always been designed to intimidate, but tonight, it was reimagined as cathedral. Floor tiled in slabs of fossilized ribcage, the dais raised by a single vertebral column scavenged from something that had eaten gods for breakfast. The light was sparse, candles and sconce-fires sputtering in their skull-shaped holders, because the Void preferred the dark, and it was a rude guest. My monstrous children had taken up posts at the four cardinal gates. Two with wings of shredded leather,flanking the obsidian entry; another with seven arms, each one clutching a different weapon from Hell’s arsenal; the last, my favorite, an eyeless crawler who’d spent the day feeding on traitors and now oozed loyalty in every slavering inch. No one got past them unless I willed it.
I’d allowed only the select of the court into the perimeter, and even then, only to the shadows beyond the circle’s edge. The rest huddled out of sight, eager for gossip, desperate for the scent of power. They got both.
