Page 22 of Bellamy

“Let’s continue,” Belphegor said. He placed his fingertips at my temples, and the world fell away again.

Hours passed in that room, no windows, no rest. Nothing but me and him and the shit he made me relive. Once he’d learned about my past, he started changing up his methods. I no longer saw my memories.

Instead, he made me see my worst nightmares.

A gaping hole was in Daman’s chest. He’d just been stabbed in the heart with a celestial blade and lay dying in the snow. Blood poured from the wound, an endless red stream that seeped through the gaps in my fingers as I put my hand over the injury and tried to heal him.

“Don’t leave me!” I begged.

“B,” Daman said before releasing one final shuddering breath. I watched the light fade from his green eyes.

He was dead.

I pulled him to my chest and sobbed, screaming so loud my throat became raw. My brother. My best friend. Dead. Just like Kallias. I hadn’t been able to save him either.

“You’re in so much pain,” Belphegor said, his voice bleeding through the nightmare world he’d created solely for me. “You know how to make it stop.”

I pressed my face into Daman’s dark hair and cried. His skin was so cold.

“Bellamy.”

“Go fuck yourself,” I told Belphegor. “This isn’t real.” But it felt real. “He’s not dead.” But he was unmoving in my arms.

The nightmare faded, and the dimly lit room surrounded me once more. Daman wasn’t here. There was no blood. My cheeks were wet.

“I’m impressed,” Belphegor said. “Greed didn’t last nearly this long before I broke him.”

A bitter remark was on the tip of my tongue, but I was too drowsy. As a Nephilim, I didn’t need as much sleep as a mortal, but the human part of me still needed rest. And my body was already weakened because of lack of sex.

Lust whined pitifully inside me.

A sharp rap came at the door before it opened. “General,” a female demon said. “King Asa wishes to see you.”

Belphegor made a low, unpleasant sound. “I’ll be right there. Wouldn’t want to keep the king waiting.”

Even while on the brink of total exhaustion and moments from passing the hell out, I picked up on his bitter tone.

“Trouble in paradise?” I slurred.

Belphegor’s cold gaze landed on me. “Rest while you can. We’ll continue this later.”

“Okay, Daddy.”

His nostrils flared, and it looked like he was about to hit me. But then he turned away and stormed from the room, slamming the door behind him.

Finally alone, I let my façade slip and emitted a small whimper. Physical torture I could handle. But this psychological shit? Fuck. Long after Belphegor left, I couldn’t sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Daman dead in my arms. I could smell his blood.

Sleep deprivation and hours upon hours of intense psychological torment, all while being locked in a dark room, made my hold on reality slip.

Had Daman actually died? Had we lost the war?

Why was I here?

Questions. Confusion. I couldn’t make sense of anything. I only knew I wanted it to stop. All of it. I wanted to go home.

Just as the edges of my mind began to unravel, I sensed him. The air changed, the currents shifting direction. My skin warmed despite the cold dampness of the room. It gave me clarity. A little, anyway.

“What the hell did he do to you?” Phoenix asked under his breath, as if more to himself. When he stroked my hair, his touch so damn gentle, the backs of my eyes stung. He turned my face to meet his, the action gentle just like his caress.