Page 18 of The Damned (Coven of Bones #3)

M A R G O T

My magic pulsed in time with the warmth of arousal that covered Beelzebub’s body, his skin pulsing with a tingle of awareness.

I couldn’t not feel it with my fingers touching the surface of his wings, even as delicately as I could manage.

I forced my way through my nerves, though, choosing to focus on the fact that he had yet to act on the desire I knew he felt.

Choosing to focus on the hope that his self-control gave me.

All this physical contact would have deepened the call of my song and the pull he felt to me, but he still sat without harming me regardless of the fact that he’d fallen prey to the music others had used for evil.

Centuries ago, Lucifer had given the same magic to a group of women who’d been thrown overboard in the sea just outside Greece.

The legends of the sirens had prevailed, leaving behind myths that most convinced themselves came down to nothing more than a representation of the danger of the ocean, of the treacherous waves that would claim the lives of men who were brave enough to sail.

It was not lost on me that men explained away the circumstances where women took back the power that had been stripped from them.

Used and abused and cast aside over the course of centuries, my Coven had become a refuge for women and formed a matriarchy where men were so often seen as less.

Where they had to make the choice between procreation and the continuation of their family line, and the power that came along with keeping their magic.

We forced them to make the choice that so many of our sisters were forced to make in the world outside Crystal Hollow.

Children or a successful life outside the home. They could not have both.

Just as women so often found themselves at a disadvantage in their careers if they had children.

And if the men as a whole decided to simply stop having children, then we would have made our bed. We would have ended our own bloodlines, and we would have no one to blame but ourselves, no matter the reasoning behind the choice.

No matter if it had been for the very purpose of preventing Willow’s existence.

A pang of longing struck me in the chest, wondering if the choice would continue on now that her reality had come to pass.

She’d already freed Lucifer from Hell, done what the Covenant had been so desperate to prevent.

I couldn’t imagine my friend would be so willing to allow men to suffer in the same way she was intimately familiar with women being treated in the outside world.

She knew the reality of the human world far better than most of our Coven.

“You’re awfully quiet back there, songbird,” Beelzebub said, the soft murmur of his voice pulling me from my thoughts as I slid the needle through his flesh again.

The tear in his wing had ripped through the fibrous center, but the part that felt more solid and ran through the top was undamaged, thankfully.

I imagined he wouldn’t have been able to fly us out of harm’s way if that had been damaged, the structure oddly muscular.

“Do you think I’ll ever make it back home?

” I asked, voicing the thought that I hadn’t dared to breathe.

The thought of being unable to warn Willow of what Itan and the Tribunal had done was entirely unforgivable.

The very notion that she might play right into their plans and I would remain helpless to prevent it was enough to make me rage.

After all they’d done, after all they’d sacrificed that wasn’t theirs to give…

They didn’t get to fucking win.

Beelzebub’s voice was tired as I finished the last stitch, tying off the strange thread that felt more like gel than actual string. “I’ll make sure of it,” he said. His voice held all the conviction I expected to hear, but there was a note of tiredness in his voice as he said it.

I didn’t fault him for it, not knowing what he’d given in order to get me to safety—the pain he must have endured flying with that injured wing.

Whether it was a consequence of his hearing my song or his loyalty to Lucifer, and Willow by extension, I didn’t care to know.

Either way, I knew not to let the gesture touch me too intimately, because when it all came down to it, the reality was it had nothing to do with me.

I was just a by-product of his actual goal.

Beelzebub lifted his wings, shifting his weight up the bed until he rested in the center. Laying his head atop the pillow, he watched me with an ease that spoke of how little he feared me. My song had made him feel safe, when I could just as easily gut him while he slept and be rid of him.

I didn’t. Wouldn’t.

“You should rest. It will help you heal faster,” I said, watching the gel of the thread shimmer within him. The gold light that radiated off the tattoos pulsed with magic, and I couldn’t bring myself to ask how they’d come to exist. In this place, all magic came from one source.

Lucifer.

“Stay close. You’re safe here with me. The lord of Purgatory is better than most, but I still can’t promise the same of him if you wander in his home,” Beelzebub said, his eyes drifting closed as exhaustion claimed him.

I considered humming to help him pass into the realm of sleep more smoothly when he grunted in pain as he shifted his wing, but decided against it.

I didn’t want to risk extending the amount of time he would spend drawn to me, not until I knew how long I would need him to keep me safe.

I didn’t think I could use it intentionally even if I’d wanted to, even if it meant he would leave me there to rot when he no longer desired me.

I made my way to the door, glancing out at the dangers that waited beyond the small gateway to our private space.

My eyes landed on the demon who had welcomed us to Purgatory where he remained at the base of the stairs, staring up at me with a raised brow.

Beelzebub’s reminder that even he did not trust the other male made me swallow, my anxiety rising as I realized just how closely he was watching us.

I forced myself to give a small, unassuming smile before I retreated back into the room I had no intention of leaving without Beelzebub now.

Closing the door quietly, I sealed myself into the room I would have thought I couldn’t stand to be in, my heart rate rising with the soft click of the latch.

Not with the male slumbering on the bed, his deep, even breathing broken up by the occasional snore.

I stepped around the cabinet of drawers that sat beside the door, leaning my weight into it.

The floor groaned as the furniture slid over the surface, scraping the wood beneath it.

I didn’t stop until the full weight of the cabinet rested against the inside of the door, creating a barricade.

I wasn’t foolish enough to believe it would do much to stop a demon, but perhaps it would buy us enough time to react.

I eyed the chair at the bedside with a sigh, my muscles already tensing with the realization that it would be where I spent the night. If I stayed awake, there was nothing a sleeping demon could do.

Right?

He looked uncomfortable, splayed atop the berry-toned comforter.

The throw pillows weren’t as soft as the ones beneath them, the fabric textured and indenting the side of Beelzebub’s face where he lay there.

With a disgruntled groan, I grasped the comforter where it was folded over beneath him and carefully tugged it down, fighting to shift it beneath his massive body without hurting his wing.

“How much do you fucking weigh, you giant oaf?” I asked, moving from one side of the bed to the other to shimmy it until it reached the bottom of his ass.

I grasped his legs one at a time, yanking the blanket down before dropping his legs to the bed so they fell to the sheets with a thump.

He didn’t stir, the depth of his sleep bringing a sweat to my brow.

I couldn’t bring myself to tuck him in with his boots still on, so I worked to unknot the laces and drew them off his feet.

I heaved a sigh as I stared down at his prone form, something immensely more intimate about him being nearly barefoot.

He was always shirtless; an ego the size of his was unable to be contained by a top that would cover the rippling muscles of his abs and the runes that covered him and made him feel distinctly other .

I chewed my bottom lip, shaking my head to shove the sight of him out of my mind.

I grasped the blanket in my hands, tugging it up to his armpits to tuck all the tempting sight of him away.

It was not lost on me that while I had to sing to him to enrapture him in my spell, he was an archdemon.

His very creation had been to aid in tempting the souls of humans to sin, in stealing them further and further from the reach of God until they became Hell’s property when they died.

At least, that’s what God would have us believe.

While I knew my soul was condemned to this place upon my death as a witch with a connection to the Source, I couldn’t help but question everything I knew.

The Covenant had led us to believe that Lucifer walking the earth would have been the greatest of evils, that He would have created a literal Hell on earth and enslaved the Coven to suit His purposes.

But all I’d witnessed Him do in His time on Earth was worship His wife and allow her to step into the power she so clearly possessed as the first of her kind.

If that was evil, I didn’t think I wanted to know what was good.

I sighed as I curled up in the armchair next to the bed, fidgeting until I found the most comfortable way to lie. I ended up curling onto my side, facing the headboard of the bed and tucking my legs into my chest.

I didn’t dare take my eyes off him while he slept, wanting to know the moment he woke.

Others of my kind would have probably taken the opportunity to feed from the demon, claiming the last of the strength he possessed in an effort to fortify themself against the coming dangers.

I wouldn’t fault them for it, because even I knew it would have been the smart, logical thing to do.

If it hadn’t been for my own aversion to taking what wasn’t mine, I might have genuinely considered it.

The wall opposite me was covered in the greenery of vines I knew Willow would love, a sign of life in a desert that seemed so barren. She would reach out and grasp those leaves, drawing strength from the fact that something could survive in this place.

If that plant could do it, then so could I.

Lust was my power. Lust was my magic.

So why couldn’t I get past my own fucking issues and trauma and take that power for myself the way Willow would have?

I sighed, letting my eyes drift closed and shutting out the symbol that reminded me so vividly of my home.

Beelzebub groaned on the bed, stretching in his sleep.

Everything in my body went tight as he turned onto his side to face me with an ease that seemed impossible given I knew exactly how much he weighed.

If I hadn’t known he was asleep, I might have thought he was seeking me out even in his rest.

He reached out across the bed, his brow furrowing when it met the cool mattress beside him. His hand roamed over the surface as if looking for something.

For me?

I swallowed, flinching back from the bed even though he couldn’t reach me. He grabbed the spare pillow, pulling it to his chest and snuggling it in a way that almost made me wonder what it would be like to be held so gently.

He nuzzled into it, a soft sound coming from his throat.

I froze, fearing the implication of the threat that may come in his sleep when he was less in control of his own actions.

The sound bared the slightest hint of teeth, a reveal of the curve of his fangs triggering memories better left forgotten.

I didn’t know if demons fed in the same way the Vessels did, but the distinct fangs hinted at the possibility.

I’d been forced to endure Reaping after Reaping, countless Vessels taking from me what I wouldn’t have given.

Some were more gentle, easing me through it because they could sense my fear.

Not all the demons had been abhorrent; some had shown me kindness in my darkest moments.

But there had also been those who had reveled in my fear, taken pleasure in my pain and the loss of my will.

But Beelzebub didn’t move to close the gap and bite me. Instead he curled the pillow into his chest, and breathed it in as if his life depended on it. His body relaxed in his sleep, his injured wing coming down to cover himself like a blanket and wrap him in a cocoon.

If I’d had any doubts that I’d done the right thing by choosing the armchair instead of risking the bed alongside Beelzebub, that wing served as my proof. I could only imagine the darkness surrounding him in there, my eyes focusing on the light streaming in through the window to my left.

I settled deeper into the chair, readying myself for a long and sleepless night as the deep, even sound of Beelzebub’s breathing filled the room around me.