Page 33

Chapter 32

Lovesick for Jemma Bliss

SJ

T he Hounds were behaving oddly. They’d spent the last several days whispering between themselves, and when I caught them in the act, they immediately engaged in what they’d apparently decided was ‘acting normally’. It was happening so often that I was starting to wonder if Beezle was self-pleasuring and if Bub maybe did truly have parasites.

Hellen was also behaving oddly. When she wasn’t acting as a silent and somewhat surreptitious shadow—which I’d decided I hated more than her openly following me while scolding me for my lack of interest in the wellbeing of our kingdom—she was sitting quietly, as if deep in thought. A deep-in-thought Hellen was not a good thing.

While we were at it, for badness’ sake, I was behaving oddly, too.

I’d never willingly, or voluntarily spent this much time in the presence of my father since I was about five, and realised that I found his company utterly vapid.

But I’d thrown myself into the preparations for the ball with gusto. Because it kept me busy, and, at least during daylight hours, it kept me from my new favourite hobby.

Spying on Jemma Bliss. Or attempting, most unsuccessfully, to spy on her.

After I returned from the throne room, the day I’d walked in on Father and Alessio, I may have opened a teeny, tiny little portal into Jemma’s living room. Just so I could keep an eye on her comings and goings. I seemed to have always picked the worst times to check on her. Only once or twice had I caught a glimpse of vibrant pink hair or a flash of light glinting off her glasses.

More often than not, I just heard Luci-Fur’s frantic snuffling sounds. I suspected she knew the portal was there. But I refused to close it. It was the only somewhat tenuous link I had to Jemma. Aside from the Soul Token, but that particular artefact held too many negative connotations.

I rubbed at my aching forehead. This pretence of showing an interest in the social events of the kingdom was just delaying the inevitable. Once the ball was over, I had to finish what I’d started with Jemma. I had to have results to present to my father before the demons recovered from the ball and regained their ire.

I wanted to kick myself roundly in the testes for choosing her in the first place. I should have selected a wrinkly, old male human. One that there was not a chance in Home that I’d fall in … feelings with.

Except I knew, deep down, that from the moment I’d set eyes on her, skipping her way up the path from the hospital … that I needed her to be the one I trialled FiendPay on. Because I was drawn to her.

I’d tried to convince myself that I just found her soul intriguing. But it was more than that. It wasn’t her soul that had me waking up in the middle of every night, drenched in sweat, rutting frantically at my mattress, still caught in the dream of having Jemma’s curvy little body under me. It wasn’t her soul that had me conjuring up fantasies of drowning in her cobalt eyes, which weren’t shocked or pensive, the way they had been the morning we woke up together, but full of desire and …

No! I was not allowed to even think that next word in the vicinity of Jemma Bliss fantasies.

That word was more dangerous than any dirty little scenario I could picture.

I sighed. I’d come back to my rooms ostensibly to bathe and prepare for dinner with my Father to go over the final menu for the ball. The menu that consisted of goat, goat and more goat, because if there was anything demons loved to gorge themselves on, it was a lovely hunk of goat meat.

Drinks would be simple: an unending supply of Demonade—the bitter swill that was the only thing capable of intoxicating demons. Then, with their bellies full and their heads fuzzy, the night would immediately devolve from them grinding to music to them simply whipping out their cocks and plunging them into whichever willing hole was closest.

I should go and bathe. Possibly rub out my constant arousal … again. But maybe I should just check on Jemma first. I hadn’t checked the portal since that morning, and she hadn’t been in the living room.

I wondered if maybe I should just open one directly into her bedroom. If I angled it just right, I could get a perfect view of the bed while hiding the portal behind her side table.

Bad idea, SJ.

And yet I lifted a hand, already conjuring the tiniest tear in the fabric between my realm and hers.

“Oooh, Boss, you making yourself a glory portal?”

I spun, my hand slashing a wider portal than I had originally intended. “Bad grief! Making myself a what?”

My Hounds regarded me with tilted heads and knowing leers. That expression of cunning on their snouts was quite unnerving.

“A glory portal. You know, a hole where on one side is a nice, wide mouth, and on the other side is you, with your knob out, about to stick it through.”

I stared at them both with incomprehension. “Where do you come up with these filthy ideas?” And why, oh why, could I suddenly think of nothing but the way Jemma had begged me to let her use her mouth on …

I pinched the bridge of my nose.

Bub’s tongue lolled out of his mouth, and Beezle trotted away, returning and nudging my leg. I looked down, seeing him gently holding the book.

The one I’d put away because even the thought of reading about a devil and a human getting all sexy together … and falling in …

No, I was simply not in the right frame of mind to be reading anything of the sort.

“We read about it in here!” Beezle announced proudly, dropping it at my feet.

“You … you can read?” I had to admit, I was more than mildly surprised at the news.

“Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence, Boss. Yes, we can read. It’s been … very educational!”

“Oh, indeed,” I said dryly. “You’ve learned so much about interdimensional blow jobs. Congratulations, a life well spent!”

“Those pages were very well worn … and the corner was folded, like Jemma’d marked the page to return to … more than once.” Bub’s tone was sly.

“So, I guess you could say we’re learning a whole lot about Jemma,” Beezle added. “Which seemed like a decent use of our time since you’ve been slacking on the FiendPay front.”

“I am not slacking!” I protested, snatching the book from the floor, wiping a bit of drool from the cover. “I’m … reprioritising, for the short term. This ball needs to go off without a hitch, to buy us a bit more time to … complete the experiment.”

I hadn’t realised that Hell Hounds could roll their eyes until my pair did it in unison. Was I really that transparent?

I appraised the book in my hands. It was very well worn. How many times had she read it? And … how many scenes did she keep returning to …?

I really should not want to know the answer to that …

“What else did you come across in this book?” I examined the spine, feigning a casual demeanour and fooling no one.

“Well!” Beezle began, his expression delighted. “There was this one chapter where?—”

“Humans think that devils have forked tongues!” Bub howled. “And they use them to access both her … downstairs holes at once!”

“I was just getting to that part, Bub!” Beezle grumbled. “We think that was Jemma’s favourite scene. There were … fingerprints on those pages.”

“Her downstairs … oh …” I gave up all pretence of not caring and frantically flipped through the pages, needing to confirm exactly what was suddenly making my breeches so tight.

“Don’t spoil it for yourself, Boss!” Beezle said gently, rearing up onto his hind legs and pushing me until I sat down hard on the edge of my bed. “Read it properly. You need to understand the context of their love story.”

I almost swallowed my tongue.

But I settled back on the pillows and opened it to chapter two—the place I’d managed to get to when I fell asleep next to her, in her bed, less than a week ago. And had woken up with … feelings.

I started to read.

* * *

“This is not sustainable!” I muttered, shaking water from my hair as I rinsed away the evidence of my fourth consecutive orgasm. I stepped out from the shower spray and clambered into one of the less bubbly hot springs. The last thing I needed was the vigorous bubbles of my usual spring stimulating me.

I’d finished the book. Every filthy, dark and … badness help me, every sickeningly swoony romantic moment of it.

And now all I could think about was recreating all those moments … with Jemma.

I wondered, did she picture me in the role of the devious devil, who when trapped by a demon hunter maiden, managed to seduce his way out, only to snare her in turn, making her crazed with lust … all the while falling in … in love, with his little prisoner?

Did Jemma … touch herself … bring herself pleasure while thinking about me? Would she slip her fingers inside herself, fuck herself, imagining it was my fingers?

And … if the maiden hunter could fall in love with her devilish captor … could Jemma Bliss …

No. I could not allow myself to think these thoughts. They were not conducive to my mental health. Or to keeping my cock flaccid.

“You missed the meeting tonight!”

I groaned. If there was anything in this realm that could kill a growing erection, it was Hellen’s shrill voice.

“I was not … feeling myself,” I muttered.

“You don’t get to not feel like yourself! You’re the Crown Prince of Hell! And you still have not declared who you will escort to the ball!”

I peered through the rising steam, finding Hellen glowering down at me, brandishing a roll of parchment.

“What in the Home is that?”

“This is a list of every upper demoness attending. Someone had to do the research since you seem incapable of … will you get out of that hot spring! Stop lolling about like a wastrel and take your responsibilities seriously!”

I surged from the water, shaking myself all over her and her confounded list. I hoped that all the splashing ruined it. I had less than zero interest in the slew of demoness tartlets she’d lined up or what they wanted from the heir to the throne.

“How many responsibilities do I need to take on before I am essentially ruling in everything but name?” I wondered darkly, stuffing my damp legs into my breeches. “How much do I need to do before I am no longer a ‘wastrel’ in your eyes, sister?”

“Well a jot more than nothing would be a start!”

Fury seared along my veins. “Our father refuses to reap souls any longer. More than that, he refuses to take any responsibility for the decline of Hell under his watch. He sits on his throne having imps and human minions sexually pleasure him, rather than coming up with solutions. He palmed that off to me, and I spent countless hours developing the Soul Token so that we?—”

“And you haven’t the stomach to follow through with using it correctly!” she sneered, her hair ruffling as she stirred the winds around her. “If I were in charge, I would?—”

“You refuse to enter the human realm! Tell me, Hellen, how do you propose to fill Soul Tokens, if you won’t go near the souls themselves?”

I turned to leave, but her winds whipped to hurricane ferocity, howling and battering my skin. I surged past her, bending into them, pushing against the invisible barrier she had created to stop me from walking away with the last word. She’d been using this tactic since we were tiny.

“Your temper tantrums are getting the better of you. It is probably for the best that you refuse to interact with humans, when you’re utterly incapable of blending in with them.”

Her winds died as quickly as they had begun, leaving behind a deafening silence. She spoke into it. “And you are far too good at playing human. One might start to question your parentage …”

It wasn’t the first time she had thrown the mystery of my mother in my face, so I ignored it. It was customary in Hell for a female carrying the spawn of the Lucifer line to leave the foundling with their Father. Mothers had no place in the raising of devils. If anything, her knowing of her birth mother was the anomaly rather than the other way around.

“For someone who believes I don’t have the appropriate parentage to be a Prince of Hell, you seem very eager for me to wet my dick in a fancy demoness and perpetuate the Lucifer line.”

Hellen’s skin went aubergine. “That is not what I —”

“You wish me to ‘escort’ an influential demoness to a ball that will devolve into an outright orgy within an hour of the first drink being consumed. Do you think I do not know what is going through your mind?”

Her eyes narrowed. “If you’re not going to put your efforts into saving our kingdom, then maybe the best we can hope from you is that your spawn will have more loyalty and common sense than his father!”

An image flashed, vividly and unbidden, through my mind. Jemma, cheeks as pink as her hair, cradling her round belly. Round, with my baby.

A baby. Not spawn, not progeny. Not an heir to the throne. Just a baby. One that we would raise, and care for, and … love … side by side.

It was a crazy fantasy.

“I will escort no one to the ball!” I roared, my horns flaring with my anger. For the first time ever, Hellen actually flinched at my words. “Do not test me on this again, sister. I will be present at the ball, I will ensure that the demons are well inebriated and that spirits are high enough to buy us some time. And then I will focus on FiendPay and my Soul Tokens.”

I started to walk away when she added quietly, “And on reaping that little human whore.”

For a second, I faltered. For a second, I considered turning, and goring my sister with my horns.

But that was exactly what she wanted. To get a rise out of me. To have me prove her suspicion that I was … compromised, when it came to Jemma.

So I continued to walk away, forcing looseness into my tense limbs so she wouldn’t suspect the tangle of feelings I was experiencing.

Once out of sight, I staggered towards my chambers, blowing out long, calming breaths. It did nothing to quell the ache in my chest. I could not lie to myself a second longer.

I was lovesick for Jemma Bliss.

And there was no way I could go through with my original plan for her.

I wanted to give her everything she deserved. Everything that she’d missed out on because of the tragedies of her past. But what could I offer her? Nothing that was desirable. I couldn’t bring her into my family—in fact, the thought of her even so much as sharing the same air as my father or Hellen … that thought filled me with dread.

I could not make a life with her here. But I was trapped here by my title.

She deserved happiness after everything she had been through … everything that I was putting her through.

And badness knew I wished I could be the one to give it to her.

But I couldn’t. So, avoiding her was, for now, my best option. Until I could work out a way to release her from our contract and set her free.