Page 8 of Tempting Azagoth (Angelic Shorts #1)
TEMPTATION AND BEAUTY
DELILAH
D elilah’s entire world had flipped upside down in the span of a night. When she left the diner however many hours ago, she’d never envisioned herself sitting in the lap of one of them .
Perhaps it was blasphemous of her, but deep down, cynicism took root over time. Before meeting Azagoth and witnessing with her own eyes his otherworldliness, she’d begun to think everything Satan’s Chosen taught her had been fiction.
But there was nothing fictional about the claw teasing her upper lip from Azagoth’s ministrations. He eyed her lips hungrily, like he yearned to kiss her again. It made her shameless, but she’d welcome it. The Devil held a hold over her. She relished that he didn’t abuse it, coaxing submission from her instead of forcing it.
He sighed, his hand falling away and sending disappointment flinging through her. “I better get going, lamb, or you’ll tempt me into never leaving this room,” he said with a small smile as he slid her off his lap. She mourned his heat beneath her thighs and pressing into her side.
She opened her mouth to ask what she should do while he’s out—She can’t think it. The Chosen used to be her family.
And I’ve signed their deaths with a kiss.
“Don’t leave this room until I return,” he said, gesturing at the living room and the bedroom beyond that she’d vacated. “I’ll send someone to supply food, clothes and entertainment. Sadly, you won’t get much of a connection down here, but make a list of books or puzzles you like, and I’ll arrange it.” His hands sat on his hips as his gaze swung around the room like he was thinking of other ways to keep her busy.
Who knew how long murder took.
“I can’t go back to work?” she asked, but the soft question came out more as a statement. She wanted to hear him say it, though, that her old life was over. Her eyes blinked rapidly as she searched for sadness.
It wasn’t much of a life. I’d lived in constant fear and worked myself near to death to avoid my own memories.
“No. For now. We’ll discuss it more on my return,” he said, leaning down again to brush his lips over hers. She melted into the chaste kiss, whimpering when he pulled away.
“Lead me not into temptation, lamb,” he groaned with a shake of his head. Hesitantly, her hand lifted, trailing a finger along his defined jaw. The muscles in his face jumped beneath her touch.
“We’ll explore that more when I get back, too,” he whispered before pressing another brief kiss to her lips. “I’d better go now or I never will. Ramiel will probably be the one I ask to attend you. If you need anything, let him know. He owes me more than a few favors.” His breath fanned her face until he rose again, looming over her.
“Try not to miss me too much. And don’t faint,” he said, his smirk disappearing. She frowned. Why would she—Her mouth dropped open as shadows climbed up Azagoth’s body. They looked like they were devouring him because he disappeared from sight with every foot gained until the space in front of her was vacant.
Satan preserve me.
She definitely felt faint after witnessing that .
AZAGOTH
Leather creaked beneath Azagoth’s weight and he scowled at the way his wings scraped the walls. He hated how small the human’s living room was.
You’d think being a “prince” of a cult would pay better.
He tapped the tips of his toe claws into the floor, impatiently waiting for his prey. He’d dropped all pretenses of a glamor, and long, dark hair flowed past his shoulders to pool in his lap. Silvery wings stretched wide behind him, spanning the width of the room. He’d forgone wearing a shirt and gilded bone poked through the skin, some of his ribs sitting outside his body.
Parts of his face had split during the fall as well, showcasing his cheekbones. The bones in the tips of his pointed ears were also visible. He flexed his hands, the white bone of his knuckles looking up at him. Those were after the fall.
Wounds inflicted by celestials were interesting in that they didn’t always heal properly. The flow of their mercury colored blood would stop and some pieces of skin would stitch closed. When the skin refused to close or the bone had been exposed too long, a hard coating formed around it in shades of gold or silver.
I look like a fucking stitched together skeleton that’s been painted gold in some spots.
He mourned his former beauty, but the sound of a key sliding into a lock drove his lamentations away. A smile split his face. Show time. And it’d better be worth being away from his lamb.
The beginning didn’t disappoint. The human entered, turned to lock the door and paused like he wasn’t certain he saw a winged creature in his living room. The back of a dark head faced Azagoth. Black slacks and a white button-down donned the soon to be broken body of Noah Jupiter.
Stupid tradition of taking on planets as last names.
Noah slowly turned around to face Azagoth, who grinned at him. Fear whitened the face now aimed at the Fallen. Azagoth crooked a finger, his golden eyes brightening in their intensity as he invaded Noah’s mind.
“Come here, little prey. Let’s have a chat with old Az.”
Obediently, like a trained pet, the human marched into the living room, his limbs moving in a jerky pattern. Azagoth pointed at the overstuffed chair across from him and the male obeyed the silent command, sitting stiffly on the edge of the seat.
“Do you think I’m pretty?” he asked Noah, tilting his head. He waved a hand down at his body. “Is this everything you envisioned when you worshipped the Morningstar? Aren’t I glorious?” he crooned. The human blinked watery eyes. Soon, tears streaked down the pale face.
Azagoth kept going, tapping a claw on the arm of the chair he’d draped himself in.
“I used to be quite the beauty once. Before you .” He jabbed a finger at the silent, crying male. He jumped to his feet, snapping a finger, laughing at the burst of pain flooding the man’s aura. His tongue swiped across his lips.
“Yes. You were His new and shiny toys, made in His image.” He stalked forward to the sound of another crack ringing out. The man’s arm flopped over the arm of the chair, broken in two places. Azagoth had silently commanded the human to not utter a sound. He didn’t want his fun ruined by screams of agony and, oh, the male was in such delicious pain.
With each step forward, another bone snapped. As he stalked closer, he funneled the pain from his prey and into him, swallowing it down eagerly. Sunken eyes pleaded with him. Azagoth ignored it. Mercy was a foreign concept to him as a Fallen. Only the Father doled it out in sparing doses.
“Then to add insult to injury,” he continued his rant, uncertain of why he bothered telling the tale to a creature limping toward Death’s door. “He gave you something he didn’t give us. Free will,” he snarled the last part, looming over the whimpering man. Tears flowed as steadily as the Nile. Several fingers bent at an unnatural angle and both arms flopped over the sides of the chair. Azagoth was slowly working his way down, forcing bones to break one at a time.
This is a meal that’ll sate me for a long time.
“And what do you do with it? Lie, cheat, steal, wage wars against each other. You’re undeserving of a gift he’d deprived his loyal, faithful angels.” Azagoth’s nose brushed Noah’s, gold eyes staring into brown eyes .
“And let’s not forget the way you trade your soul’s away like borrowing credit. I bet you’d give it to me now just to spare you from the pain I’m inflicting. Wouldn’t you, little prince?” He smiled sweetly at the human, who nodded weakly. The skin around the eyes sunk in further, a pallor creeping into the cheeks. Even the brown eyes looking up at Azagoth appeared dimmer.
He was slowly wasting away in front of the angel’s eyes.
“Too bad. The one grave mistake you made was going after Delilah Juno. Send my best regards to Mammon.” With a wink, Azagoth’s hands shot out and twisted the head barely being held upright. The satisfying crack swept a shudder through his body.
It felt nearly as good as Delilah tasted.