He released one of my hands to brush the feather Lucifer had given me. In the dim light, it was just possible to make out the sneer on his full lips.
“Jealousy doesn’t suit you.”
I braced my hand on his chest, meaning to push him away, but touching him at all was a mistake.
There was nothing I wanted more than to rip his shirt open and see if the marks I’d made on him were still there.
I knew I didn’t deserve even that much.
“Why are you wearing Lucifer’s token?” he asked, his growl becoming a smooth purr, like he was trying to lure me into a trap.
I raised my chin, refusing to look away. “I can choose to wear the token of whomever I like. What does it matter to you?”
“It doesn’t matter to me at all.” Even though it was obviously a blatant lie, hearing that still hurt. He smiled when he saw that his barb had struck home. It was impossible to hold back my grimace. “So you’ve stolen half my Circle and the heart of the Prince of Hell. If I’d known you had such high aspirations, I would’ve made it easy and never marked you at all.”
I sucked in a sharp breath. “That is too low a blow, Belial. I didn’t come here to fuck my way into ruling Hell.”
“From where I stand, surely you can see why that explanation is complete bullshit.” Belial pushed my braid with Lucifer’s feather over my shoulder, where he couldn’t see it. Like he couldn’t stand to see it.
“I never asked you to mark me,” I said quietly, but pain crept into my voice.
If he would do it again, I would never remove it. How was it so hard to say something so simple aloud?
“Did you ask Lucifer?”
His tone was sharp again, the purr hidden under the snarl.
I licked my lips, my breath shallowing. Being this close to Belial was like torture for both body and mind. As angry as I was at his prodding, I still wanted him. He was so close, and yet so far away.
“He offered. I accepted. Simple as that.” I forced myself to hold his gaze even though I wanted to shrink under it. I felt about three inches tall.
“I’m sure you gave him one of yours in return.” He saw the answer written all over my face, and his eyes hardened to crystalline ice. “So Lucifer and the Nephilim are worthy of your high regard.”
“Belial…” I forced myself to not whisper. There were so many things that needed to be said. “I didn’t make that bet to escape you. I wanted to stay here, but I needed you to know I was serious about my plans, and I need power to accomplish them. I’m sor-”
“Oh, you’ll get your revenge, I’m sure.” He cut me off, eyes narrowed. “The last thing I want to hear is your apologies. See, even if you asked me to mark you again- if you got down on your knees and begged me- you don’t deserve my regard.”
I was struck silent, my throat aching. Tears burned the corners of my eyes as he leaned in close. Only his hot, seething anger kept me from trying to kiss him, from making him feel how sorry I was for ruining everything.
“Your tokens are cheap. You’d rather break your bonds than put a single drop of faith in someone who did everything in their power to make you happy.”
Belial dropped my hands in disgust as a tear broke free and slid down my cheek.
“You deserve each other.”
He strode away, leaving me alone in the darkness of the tunnel.
I bit down on my knuckle hard, but not even the pain stopped the tears from sliding down my face. I cried until they ran dry, then wiped my face, steeling my resolve as I listened to new fighters dying on the arena floor.
I tucked the regret and sadness away, locked it behind an iron door deep inside me. It would only hold me back from doing what I needed to do.
I’d had no faith in Belial, and now his faith in me was completely broken.
Even if it killed me, I would earn it back.
9
Melisande
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
Azazel stroked my cheek, his thumb catching the remains of a tear I hadn’t wiped away well enough.
I took a deep breath of Nightside air, my fists clenched at my sides. My chest felt like iron bands were steadily tightening around me, making it hard to breathe.
Belial hadn’t come back. I’d left the arena with all the dignity I could muster, but the demons were blinded by bloodlust for the upcoming fight, and I’d managed to escape more or less unnoticed.
My Chainlings had refused to leave my side until Azazel appeared in a swirl of smoky stars, his face going dark as he took in my expression.
“There is nothing you need to fear from confiding in me,” he said, his thumb brushing my lip. “And there’s no shame in feeling sorrow.”
I blinked hard. Several glowing fireflies drifted past, fracturing my vision into a thousand points of light. “I loathe crying in front of other people. Actually, I loathe crying, period.”
The sound of beating wings filled the air and went silent. A dark presence rose behind me, a pair of hands landing on my shoulders and enveloping them.
“Why are you crying?” Lucifer asked quietly, his tone dangerous. “Is there someone I should kill?”
I scrubbed my hand across my eyes, trying to erase all signs of my weakness. “I’m crying because I was told something I deserved to hear, but I’m done now.”
Lucifer’s hands tightened, his fingers pressing into my arms. “I’ll take care of this.”
“No,” I said, at the exact moment Azazel snapped, “And start another war?”
The fallen angel was silent for a long moment, in which I knew he was likely contemplating all manner of ways to pull Belial from his
