Page 5 of Tempting Azagoth (Angelic Shorts #1)
A DEVIL
AZAGOTH
L ong waves of dark hair spread across Azagoth’s snowy white pillowcases. He loomed over Delilah, committing every detail of her face to memory, down to how many lashes dotted each eye. Her attackers sated his hunger, allowing him the calm and clear-headedness to assess his latest catch.
Shadow rested below her eyes and her cheekbones pressed against pale skin, a testament to many meals skipped and days out of the sun. Darkness shrouded whatever dreams or nightmares caused the furrow between her brows and the twitch of her full lips. A pert nose flared frequently, like she fought to breathe in the dreamscape. He could pull her out of it, but was reluctant to after the way she’d reacted to a mere peek at his true nature.
She’d fainted like one of those goats off of television. If the screams of his prey hadn’t demanded his attention, he would’ve found humor in the act as he’d thrown out a hand to stop her head from colliding with the concrete. Lowering her to the ground, he’d turned hungry eyes on the men who’d coveted what he’d claimed.
And gorging himself on their pain and flesh, he’d turned back to his lamb and realized he’d made a grave error.
Or had he?
He hadn’t intended to mark the little waitress who already sported a brand inherent to the Fallen, but each time he brushed her mind, she lulled him, soothing the worst of his hunger pangs. In his absentmindedness, he’d tainted her aura. It rippled with colors reminiscent of his flame, like she mirrored them.
Could she be?
His head shook, dislodging the thought. Celestials, even the Fallen, lacked souls. The chances of any of them finding a soulmate were nil. It didn’t stop some from whispering of a perfect match, of a human soul compatible with the flame flickering in each of them.
God’s breath—different but similar to the one he used to create man—birthed a flame. The flame of creation. Each spark of that flame flared to life, spawning celestials. Unlike man, God did not give them souls. They were not created in his image.
They were soldiers. Servants. He provided a purpose, and they carried it out until the end of eternity. That was before the fall.
A celestial changed during the fall, but they never stopped being divine. Or soulless.
Whispers and heresy.
A human cannot complete an angel. Their souls and the spark of divinity in celestials were not compatible.
God allowed them to mimic him, not replace him. They have zero divinity.
And they bartered their souls as easily as they traded away coin. An angel would never. And Devils were still angelic.
When an angel “died,” their flame extinguished, it created a ripple, felt by all celestial beings. God did not design them with death in mind or an afterlife. Nor did He provide humans with immortality to rival an angel.
Azagoth released a sigh, allowing his eyes to flow away from the pretty human. It all mattered little.
She’ll rot and die like the rest of them. Maybe I’ll eat her soul before then.
The thought did not provide him with the same relish he’d felt when stuffing his maw full of the human meat that’d hunted his lamb.
His claws clicked in agitation. He can’t keep her but neither could he bring himself to kill her, not while her aura sparkled with glimmers of him.
I’ll wait. I won’t touch her mind or soul, and once the effects of my interference wears off, I’ll eat her.
He nodded. That sounded more like him. He never spared a human more than a fleeting glance before her. He won’t allow her to alter him now. Centuries of habit won’t come undone by a pretty face.
Tomorrow. When she awakes tomorrow, she dies.
DELILAH
When Delilah blinked open drowsy, sandpaper coated eyes, panic threatened to drown her. She wasn’t in her room, the ceiling above her both foreign and familiar. She’d dreamed weird dreams like floating above her body, staring at the back of a dark head as the person examined her. They never touched her, for which she was grateful.
Then the dream morphed, and she felt like she’d fallen down a rabbit hole, the scenes ever changing. The only constant was a pair of golden eyes, always peering in her direction like they were trying to pry into her mind.
That was last night, and this is today.
And today she had no clue where she was or who held her captive. It could be the men from the bar or—Fear settled beneath her breastbone, a familiar presence as memories of the previous night flitted through her mind.
Surely it all had been a dream.
Men didn’t randomly assault themselves like her would-be attackers had and the stranger did not possess fangs, or a double pair for that matter. Before she thought better of it, she swung her legs out of the bed, pausing as she stared down at her bare legs. Her hands patted her chest, buttons scraping her palms.
Last night, she’d worn her uniform. This morning, a blue oversized button-down shirt fell to her knees. Someone had undressed her while she’d slept, handling her body like she was an inanimate doll. Her heart pounded beneath her palm.
I have to get out of here. Satan preserve me.
She didn’t look around at the furniture dotting the bedroom. Instead, she ran to the door on wobbly legs, her stomach letting out a familiar gurgle of discontent.
I’ll worry about food after I get out of here.
Throwing the door wide, she rushed through it, only to come to a halt at the sight before her. She blinked several times but the smirk on the golden-eyed stranger’s face never wavered, neither did the array of food spread across the dining table, or—She shook her head.
Those were not claws decorating the tips of his fingers. He tapped them lightly against the wooden table, sliding his gaze down her body. He assessed her as she assessed him, but her mind couldn’t grapple with the images being transported from her eyes.
Devil , a voice at the back of her mind whispered. And she didn’t know how she knew, but she knew he wasn’t the Light Bearer.
“W-who are you?” she asked, fighting the words out around the lump in her throat. Fear and adrenaline weaved through her veins, demanding she act, that she do something other than stand there gawking at the obviously supernatural being sitting at the head of the table.
His head tilted, and he lifted one dark brow.
“We’ve had this conversation before, Delilah . I’m Azagoth.” His rich voice rolled across her senses, sending tingles down her spine, similar to how she’d felt back at the diner when he’d watched her work.
“My name?—”
“Please, don’t attempt lying to a Fallen. It rarely ends well since we know when you’re lying,” he stated, the smile sloughing off his face. He rose from the chair, spurring her to take a wary step back. Only the bedroom laid behind her. By smoothly walking to the center of the room, he’d perfectly blocked the exit she could see beyond his broad shoulders.
Words and plans failed her. A kitchen rested to her right, the dining table sitting near the half wall that housed the sink and several counters. A white sectional decorated the living room to her left, sunlight beaming through the curtains to highlight the glass end tables that marked off the area in the open floor plan of the room.
The only escape was behind him. She didn’t delude herself into thinking she could outsmart one of His brethren. Later—if she survived this encounter—she’d ponder what a prince of Hell was doing at the diner she worked at.
“Please,” she begged, taking another step backwards. “I-I haven’t done anything. I didn’t know anything to tell the police after—” He brought a finger to his lips, indicating silence.
“Quit bleating, lamb. Come eat. I know who you are and what you were. If I wanted you dead, you would be. Now, is this anyway to treat one of your betters?” he said, waving a hand between them. Her shoulders dropped and shame burned in her gut.
No.
Her father raised her better, instructed her on how to greet one of them . With her head lowered, she walked toward him, stopping when his clawed, bare feet entered her line of sight. Then she leaned down, preparing to kneel and prostrate herself before the prince.
He tsked, a hand shooting out to grip her chin and halt her descent.
“No, lamb. Not like that . Like this,” he growled, sliding his hand down to grasp her neck. He pulled her to her feet before slamming his mouth onto hers, swallowing her shocked gasp.