Page 11 of Interior Design for Demons
Freaking Apollyon. Demon of lust, hair product model, a nightmare in a fantasy body.
At least the toilet flushes normally—there’s no freaky bidet thing to contend with. I slip off my underwear and slide into the bath, sighing as the hot, fragrant water embraces my weary bones and muscles. Absently I touch the lines of scars along my collarbones—the marks of Rath’s claws. In hell for less than a few hours, and I’ve already been permanently scarred.
I pinch the bridge of my nose and close my eyes, trying to make sense of everything. I’ve been doing a hell of a job staying calm and composed, for the most part. I am damn proud of myself for that. Not that I have much of a choice—it’s either accept what’s happening, or go crazy and be sedated like that poor drooling guy in orientation.
Are any of the other contestants entertaining demons tonight, or am I just lucky? Maybe Apollyon plans to enjoy me first, and then go have interludes with the others. If demons even have that kind of stamina. I know nothing about their physiology except that they eat and shit like humans, and apparently different demons have their own specialties or powers.
The bath is enormous, so huge I can float in the water like I would in a pool. There aren’t any bubbles to hide behind, even if I were feeling modest—which honestly I’m not. I’m in a weird “IDGAF” kind of mood right now. Maybe that’s only natural after finding out that Hell is real, I’m in a contest with deadly stakes, and my father’s sole chance at eternal relief rests on my shoulders.
I deserve this damn bath, and I’m going to enjoy it.
Allowing myself to fully relax, I close my eyes and drift in the heat and the fragrant steam. When the door opens, I’m so comfortable that I don’t even open my eyes. I’d rather not see Apollyon naked just yet—it will get me all riled up, and I just want to enjoy the water for a few more minutes.
“I know I’m taking up the whole bathtub and I’m not sorry,” I murmur, eyes still closed.
Apollyon doesn’t answer, or maybe I miss his reply because of the gurgling water in my ears.
I drift to the edge of the bath and lean against the side with my back to him, sweeping my hair over my shoulder. “Do demons give shoulder rubs?” I nearly tremble at my own daring, asking the great Apollyon for a massage. But his hands settle onto my slick shoulders, tentative at first, then more firmly, kneading the muscles so expertly that I sigh with relief. His thumbs press tender circles along my neck. Such strong, thick fingers he has, and how skillfully he uses them. The aching want in my lower belly grows stronger.
“Are you ever going to join me?” I ask.
“No.” A single gruff syllable that makes me spin around in alarm.
It’s not Apollyon at all. Rath crouches by the tub, fully clothed, with the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up to his elbows and his fingers wet from massaging my damp skin. Tendrils of wavy golden hair have escaped his ponytail, and his eyes burn deep orange at the center. His mouth is grim.
“Where is Apollyon?” I gasp.
“He had to go.”
“Go? What do you mean? Why?”
“I only left you with him so I could go speak to Ishtar. At my request, she just issued a law of restraint for all demons when it comes to the humans involved in the contest—at least until the first rooms are complete. We need you sharp and clear, operating at your fullest capacity. So that means no physical or emotional entanglements with demons. I came to inform Apollyon of the new rule.” The corner of his mouth twitches. “He was not pleased with me.”
“Because you cockblocked him. Andme.” I frown ferociously at him. “Did it ever occur to you that I wanted and needed this? That I might be more relaxed, more clear-headed for the contest if I get some action first? Oh, and thanks for talking about me and the other people here as if we’re machines that require careful operation.”
“Humans are, essentially, machines. Systems of bone and blood and tissue, with predictable personalities and limited minds.”
Completely offended, I rise to my full height in the bath, just so I can look down at him in all my naked glory. “That’s not true. And since you’re obviously determined to insult and infuriate me, you can leave now. Get out of my suite.”
Rath’s eyes are wide, almost innocent with shock. He flushes crimson across both cheekbones. Then he stands and draws away from me, turning his back.
Good. Here’s an opportunity to jab at him, to get him back for calling me “predictable” and “limited.”
“Why are you blushing?” I challenge him. “You’ve seen tons of naked women, I’m sure.”
“The frequency of the sight doesn’t matter,” he replies. “You don’t understand anything about me. About us. Demons.”
“What’s to understand? You’re bad news. Literally the worst. That’s about it.”
“We’re also more susceptible to the charms of human beings than to those of other demons.” He’s running his fingers in circles along the black marble counter, over and over. Why do I find that so distracting? “It all goes back to when angels and demons were first created. We are fascinated with humans, with your nature. We have a deep, instinctive, nearly irresistible desire to merge with you, and the pleasure of such a joining is legendary in its intensity. But demons aren’t allowed to have casual sex in the human world—it’s only permitted under special circumstances, usually to ensure the destruction of a target’s soul, or to accomplish a specific infernal purpose. However, a live human brought into Hell for any reason is exempt from those rules.”
Oh. So that’s why Apollyon made a move on me so quickly.
Rath’s voice drops half an octave, until it’s a depthless growl. “When a human arrives in Hell, any demon may stake the claim of first seduction with a kiss.”
“That’s why Apollyon asked if you were claiming me, back there by the gate.” I touch my lips, remembering the rough heat of that kiss. “You told him it wasn’t a claim.”
“It wasn’t. I want nothing to do with your body.”
