Page 21 of Falling for the Devil

She’d stomped into the forest with a quiver of arrows and Ares’s own bow, which had been much too large for her hands. Figuring she was safely enough away from prying eyes, she set up a makeshift target at the edge of a pristine lake. In hindsight, not the best placement since she lost about two dozen arrows into the water. Frustration had her pulling back the string with all her strength—precision be damned—letting the arrow fly... up, up, up over the crystal water, only to nosedive with substantial velocity. It hit the surface of the water and up came a screaming monster with blazing red eyes and a few choice words she’d never heard before. Her arrow was buried in the top of its skull. Black blood oozed out of the wound, flowed down his face, and the once clear water turned into an ever-expanding inky well around the yowling creature.

Her instincts told her to go to the wounded being to try to help it, but its hideous appearance kept her feet rooted where she stood. It was black as night, with shimmering scales along its torso, and the legs of an enormous frog. Its eyes glowed, but when it blinked, an outer clear covering would momentarily flip down then back open. And its screeching tore through Diana’s sanity. She clamped her hands over her ears, but still the sound pierced her eardrums, causing blood to trickle out between her fingers.

Diana truly believed she was going to die that day. At the very least, she’d be deaf. At the worst, the monster would tear into her with its sharp, pointy teeth.

Unable to take the torment any longer, she scrambled for the bow with one hand while fishing out another arrow from the quiver. Kneeling in the mud, she nocked the arrow, sighted the quarry, pulled the string, and let it fly.

Never in her life had Diana launched a shot so true. At the moment the tip of the arrow found its mark, the screaming ceased. The hideous beast went limp and slipped back under the water.

She slumped over in relief, hot tears scorching down her face. Sobs racked her tiny body, even the sound of something emerging from the same water did not alarm her. If that thing had survived, then she deserved to die.

Footsteps and dripping water approached, disturbing the otherwise quiet surroundings—as silent as a graveyard for the mortal dead. Not even a cricket or pesky fly dared to break the quiet.

A large, wet hand patted her back. When Diana sucked up the courage to open her eyes to peer up, she recoiled in shock. A small boy with hair the color of the night and eyes like the eternal flames of Hades stared at her. His skin was a pasty pale, neither white nor any other hue. His arms and legs were spindly. He looked so malnourished and weak that she wondered how he had the strength to stand. He kneeled beside her, gray tears flowing down his own face, a crooked, shaky smile on his lips.

Unintelligible words had come out of his mouth, more like the primal, animalistic sounds of a goblin than those of a child—mortal or otherwise.

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand,” she tried to communicate to him. Her own tears had ceased in wonderment. “I want to...”

“Th... tha... thank you.” The gravelly voice had taken her by surprise.

He’d placed a hand over his heart, then had stretched out the other to her. “Am in your ... debt.”

From that moment on, Puck had been with her. It had taken weeks to teach him how to speak so she could learn the whole story. The monster she’d killed had been his stepfather. Pookas were a lot like lions in that they did not tolerate the offspring of their predecessors. It was widespread practice for the new husbands to murder any children the female had had before their mating. Why the mothers accepted this practice—killing off their children to please a new mate—had been beyond Diana’s understanding. To this day, she couldn’t fathom the logic.

Regardless, she’d saved Puck’s life, thus establishing a life-death bond between them. He was hers until death took one, or both of them, out of this life. Even then, Puck had vowed he’d follow her into the thereafter and through every life yet to come.

Diana prayed that bond still held, for a life without the frustrating pooka would be boring and lonesome indeed.

SHE’D FALLEN ASLEEP in Lucifer’s arms, tears still streaking down her face. He’d failed Diana by not also saving her friend, even if he did give off creepy vibes. An ember of hope flared that Olivier had rescued Puck, but when had Olivier done anything that hadn’t been directly in his own interests?

Even as the thought formed, his constant negativity about one of his brothers bothered him. They’d fought side by side for a few hundred millennia or more. Lucifer couldn’t pinpoint when he’d begun to doubt Olivier’s intentions. But doubt still bloomed.

With the goddess softly purring in her sleep, he contemplated their fate. The outlook was dire. Stranded together in the unknown, unchartered abyss! His own sheer incompetence burned through his pride. He’d saved her from a quick painless death only to punish her with endlessness in the far reaches of the universe that had not even begun to form.

And he’d failed in his quest to find the culprit murdering his fellow angels.

Nothing like self-loathing to keep himself company for the rest of eternity. He deserved this punishment for being such a failure. But Diana did not. It had not been her choice to join him on his mission—of that, he was certain. Zeus and Olivier had insisted... they’d demanded it, even. Now, their insistence had imperiled her life. He’d never forgive them, just as he’d never forgive himself.

His divinity illuminated the endless sea of darkness. Not a star nor planet nor even one of those fiery comets he enjoyed watching streaked across the sky blasting everything in their path.

Diana lay against him. Despite his lack of a physical body, he enjoyed the heat radiating off her. He was certain if he had a body while trapped inside his own protective cocoon, he’d end up in worse danger than they already were in. It was torture enough not having the means to carry out what every cell of his being craved to do with the luscious woman in his arms. But the guilt if he did act on those impulses would condemn him.

Diana snuggled in closer, her breath tickling the stray hairs falling over her flushed face. In sleep, she was peaceful... the epitome of the innocent, virgin goddess. Her vibrant hair was a stark contrast to the dullness of the black that surrounded them on all sides. A pale hand came up to rest on his chest, but fell through his light form. A pity. He reached down and took her hand in his, holding it to his chest for her.

It was a good turn of events that he had gambled on being able to grab hold of her without his physical vessel. It had saved her life. How he had overcome the distance between the physical and the spiritual was indeed a miracle. He relished the comfort of her slight, but curvy body pressed against him.

But what if he could teach her how to touch him in this form?

Lucifer shook his head, allowing a slow gentle breath to escape. No, that would be a terrible idea and would only lead to trouble. In desperation to avoid the thoughts and images running through his head, he screwed his eyelids closed and prayed to the Creator for slumber to take him away into oblivion, where lustful thoughts could no longer taunt him.

The Creator either wasn’t listening or had chosen to test Lucifer’s will, for sleep failed him. Instead, Diana continued to purr and shimmied against him, for warmth perhaps, but the way her breasts rubbed against him was anything but innocent. He should’ve pulled away. Instead, he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. Her hair smelled of sultry jasmine, an intoxicating fragrance that must’ve been created for the goddess alone.

Diana unexpectedly tilted her head up. Her almond-shaped eyes blinked open as if she was still caught up in a dream. Her bowtie lips parted on a slow exhale, tempting Lucifer to bend his neck so they were closer, eye-to-eye, nose-to-nose. A gentle hand reached up to cup his chin. This time her flesh did make contact with his light body, and held on, pulling his face down to her until their lips brushed.

Fire erupted from his every cell, splitting open like millions of stars bursting into life at once. All logic, all sensible thoughts fled. Only the perfectness of Diana’s lips remained—the one thing Lucifer could focus on. Nothing else mattered, not now, not ever. Just her.

Her eyes opened and locked with his—an unspoken request for more. Whatever she wanted, he’d give thousands of times over. For he wanted more, even if he wasn’t sure what more really was. He had a general idea. He hadn’t been blind all his life.

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