Larissa Ione - Azagoth - A Demonica Novella

The words, spoken to him by the archangel Gabriel, rang in his ears as if it were yesterday. Yeah, what the archangels called a “choice” was more like a prod with a lightning bolt in the direction they wanted you to go.

As he waited for Lilliana’s reaction to his announcement, he gave her a good once-over. Okay, maybe a twice-over, because damn, she was fine .

Unlike most of the angels who came to him, Lilliana was in no way petite or delicate. She looked like the type of female who could hold her own against him in physical combat, and then melt into a puddle of ecstasy when the battle was over and he was between her legs. He admired that in a female.

Of course, there was a lot to admire about her.

Long, sable lashes framed eyes the color of the purest amber, and sturdy, angular features defined her ageless face. This angel was tall, solidly built, with only the slightest of curves in all the right places and muscles that gave her an Amazonian warrior aura. Her chestnut hair flowed over slender but powerful shoulders, and he wondered if it was as silky as it looked.

“The same bed, huh?”

Her question was rhetorical, so he crossed his arms over his chest and waited for a genuine reaction from her. In reality, he’d had another room prepared for her, but he wanted to see how she handled him. He wasn’t easy to deal with, and any female who fell apart within minutes of meeting him wasn’t going to last.

Despite what he’d said to Mariella yesterday, he wouldn’t force anyone to stay. He was a cold, heartless bastard, but even he didn’t want to spend eternity with someone who couldn’t hold their own against him. He could deal with hatred, but he couldn’t deal with fear.

A crying, cowering female in his bed just didn’t do it for him. On the other hand, angry sex could be fucking hot as shit.

So which way would Lilliana go? Fight or flight? Hate or fear? The stubborn glint in her eyes told him that meek acceptance wouldn’t be an option. Good. He didn’t want a doormat for a mate, either.

She lifted her chin and looked down her nose at him in that infuriating way most angels did. As if he was so beneath them, what with his own realm, servants, and more influence than most archangels could claim.

“I was hoping we’d have time to get to know each other,” she said crisply, “but I’ll deal. Touch me without my consent, however, and you’ll lose an arm.”

So, fight over flight. And probably a touch of hate. He liked her spirit. She needed to work on her threats, however.

“Never threaten someone with losing a limb when you can go gorier. Try this next time: Touch me without my consent and I’ll gut you with my teeth and then strangle you with your own intestines.” He imagined her saying that, and his pants grew uncomfortably tight. “See how much better that sounds?”

She glared. “If you’ll give me paper and a pen, I’ll take notes.”

He was starting to like this chick.

“I’m assuming the angels have sealed the portal behind you so you can’t leave unless I expel you?” At her clipped nod, he waved for her to follow him. “Come on. I’ll show you to our room.” He led her to the grand double doors at the rear of his office, and with a mere thought, they whispered open.

Lilliana stood in the doorway, gaping at his bedroom-slash-playroom. “Oh. My. Gaudy,” she breathed. “Please tell me I can redecorate.”

Zhubaal had warned him that females didn’t appreciate man-cave decor. Or torture-room decor. Turned out he was right. “Sure. But nothing nautical. Or American Southwest.”

She didn’t miss a beat. “I was thinking more along the lines of screw-you minimalist. First thing that goes is the spanking bench.”

Damn, he was liking her more and more. Too bad he’d have to break her little haloed heart.

“No furniture goes until you’ve tried it first. But the rest...meh.” He gestured to the walls covered in rich tapestries, priceless artwork by famous human and demon painters, and giant mirrors framed in pure gold. “The color scheme was popular a thousand years ago. It’s time for an update, I suppose.”

She sniffed haughtily, which was such an angel thing to do, and stalked inside. And wow, nice ass. Perfectly packaged in the satin dress, it was a little less full than he liked, but there was still plenty of padding in that heart-shaped bottom. He could picture her bent over the spanking bench as he gripped her hips and thrust against her, her skin flushed with ecstasy and pink from sensual lashes.

“The bed can stay,” she announced.

Of course it could. It was big enough to sleep six, which meant she could put a lot of space between them. She could try, anyway.

“The bathroom is through the doorway to your right,” he said. “The hallway straight ahead leads to a kitchen, dining room, and TV room. I get pretty much every TV station in the world.”

She frowned. “How?”

“Same way Heaven gets it. Demon technicians can warp and tune any manmade signal into something usable down here.” He gestured to a huge oak cabinet. “The wardrobe on the left is yours. There are clothes already inside. I’ll leave you to it.”

She turned to him, that ridiculous gown sweeping across the floor. “Where are you going?”

“I have a job to do. Places to go, people to kill, and those demon souls don’t admit themselves into Sheoul-gra, you know.” He started toward the door. “Join me after you change, and I’ll show you around your new home.”

“Wait.” She started after him, but as he swung back around to her, she checked up like she’d hit a wall, as if realizing that being alone would be better than being with him. “What about my powers?”

“What about them?”

“I have none.” She hugged herself, no doubt feeling naked and exposed without them. “How am I supposed to defend myself in this place?”

“There’s nothing here that can harm you. Except me.” He glanced at his watch. He probably had time to usher in a few souls, show Lillian around, and check in with his griminions before his next appointment arrived. Looking up again, he caught her gaze. “But I can’t think of any reason I should harm you...can you?”

She gave a forced smile. “Of course not.”

“Good. Let’s keep it that way.” He headed toward the door again, pausing at the threshold to say softly, “I’m not a cruel person, Lilliana. But I’m not a forgiving one, either. Betray me and you’ll see exactly how unforgiving I can be. There are no second chances.”

He left her alone, closing the door behind him.

Lilliana waited until Azagoth shut the door to stick out her tongue at him.

“Join me after you change,” she mimicked. “I’ll show you around your new home. Betray me and you’ll see exactly how unforgiving I can be.”

Yeah, real mature. But the guy was infuriating. And obnoxious. And handsome. She couldn’t forget handsome. The image of him standing next to his desk lingered in her mind, the way he’d been so casual, and yet, there was a coiled intensity about him, as if he could snap her neck with one hand while chugging rum from the bottle on his desk with the other.

Why in the hell did she find that sexy? She was an angel, for Heaven’s sake. She was supposed to be sweet and pure, and...that was a load of crap.

Angels were, in truth, ruthless warriors who fought for the side of good, often with stunning brutality. They fought dirty and didn’t always follow the rules. Then there were the politics—many angels had their own agendas, and those agendas often didn’t mesh with what was best for either the Earthly realm or the Heavenly one.