The Prince of Wrath looked almost intrigued by the idea, running his hand through his dark hair and pulling it back from his face. If I was being honest with myself, there was nothing I wanted more than to bend down and kiss him, let my lips explore every plane of his features.
Kiss away any concept of taking a succubus to bed.
“Sounds like a raw deal to me.” His gaze shuttered, expression hardening. “I won’t fuck you because you deign to allow it.”
My breath felt shallow, just the proximity to Belial making my head swim. I wanted the taste of his fire again, no matter how furious he made me.
“I have no need of an angel who doesn’t want me.”
My nails dug into my arms. Only the sudden sharp pain of silver claws digging into my skin made me stop, forcing myself to relax. “I-”
“Your trade proposition is bullshit. Take Lady Savage; you’ve earned her.”
I made myself look away from Belial, unwilling though I was.
Lady Savage was sprawled across the arena floor, unconscious, and my Chainling had calmly returned to his seat on the dais, not even breathing hard.
When I looked back at Belial, he waved a hand, his gaze still full of fire. Dismissed.
I strode down the steps, not looking back as my Chainlings hauled Lady Savage’s limp body upright and pulled her outside, draping her across Capheira’s back.
Rage and hopelessness warred inside me the entire way back to the Nightside. The hole in my chest ached so deeply I thought if I looked down, I might see blood spilling all over my front.
But there was nothing there. It was internal, an unhealing wound that I couldn’t seem to staunch the flow from.
I had them bring Lady Savage to her new chambers, where they were already inking my symbol of black wings around Belial’s sigil on her palm while she was unconscious, and disappeared into my own quarters.
It seemed impossible to talk to Belial without fucking up everything I said.
I wondered if he’d had the succubus brought to him. If he was just punishing me, if my apologies would mean nothing if I could ever let my rage go long enough to say them.
If I’d irrevocably destroyed the bond that had formed between us.
It seemed that all my wrath did now was poison me from the inside out.
6
Melisande
I swept into the middle of my arena, looking up at the empty stands. My footsteps echoed off the obsidian walls, bare of any decoration.
It was a blank slate, and it was all mine.
Instead of daises, I had the overhead balconies. My throne was the sole thing in this massive room that wasn’t untouched. The Chainlings had already draped it with black feathers.
I sighed, pacing to the other side. In one more night, it would be open. Warriors of every stripe would come to test themselves against each other and potentially join me under the banners of the Lady of Wrath.
My own army against Satan.
“What does the Lady desire?” A Chainling followed at my elbow like a silent specter.
I frowned up at the blank walls. “I think it needs… some shazam.”
“Oh, you’ve seen the light!” Vyra was perched on the upper balcony, clapping her hands. “This calls for sparkles!”
I nodded slowly. “Sparkles. Let’s do glittery black banners-”
“Like One Thousand and One Nights?” Vyra leaned forward. “And lanterns.”
The picture of how I wanted this place to look was clear in my head. Like the first night I’d realized where I really was, the happiness of winning…
The hungry amusement on Belial’s face. The lust in Tascius’s. The moment I’d understood I’d stepped into an entirely different world, and yet it was the one I fit into like a long-lost puzzle piece.
“I think shades of purple and rose for the lanterns,” I said to the Chainling. She nodded under her hood, vanishing instantly.
Vyra swooped down to the arena floor, glancing at my bitten nails and choosing not to comment. “Melisande…”
“I know. I fucked up. Again.”
The succubus laid a hand on my shoulder, pearly against the darkness of the arena. “I know it’s hard.”
A dark shape staggered into the arena, drawing our eyes.
Lady Savage’s welts and scratches glistened with healing salve. “You took me,” she said, and for once her voice wasn’t smooth as a blade. It was ragged, wounded.
“Belial traded you in a bet that I won.” I caught a glimpse of my sigil on her palm, emblazoned with needles and ink, completely unlike the kiss-placed brand Belial had given me. “You belong to my half of the Seventh Circle now.”
“But… Luck is back there.” Lady Savage blinked at me, seeming oddly lost and unfocused. “He’s on the Brightside.”
I blinked back before realizing she was talking about Blind Luck, the asshole who’d tried to cut off my wing.
And realized what I’d done.
They might have been a mated pair as much as Tascius and I were. Now they would be separated, in the same Circle but on different sides.
How I sympathized.
My tension mounted, the last thing I needed. “I’ll make it better.”
“You don’t understand.” Lady Savage wiped at her face. “I need him.”
That would mean facing Belial again, but I couldn’t- wouldn’t- be responsible for separating a pair like that. Not when I knew all too well how much it hurt. “I understand perfectly. One way or another, I’ll make sure-”
“I can’t live without him,” she pushed, and my temper snapped.
“Then I will fucking win him for you!” My shout echoed off the arena walls and bounced back to us, a thousand angry shouts multiplied into a storm.
Vyra and Lady Savage both stared at me, but at least the traded and possibly concussed fighter seemed a little clearer.
Lady Savage exhaled, her eyes wide. “You really need to work off some of that aggression.”
“Fucking tell me about it,” I muttered, turning away. “The next time I’m there, I’ll make a bet
