Page 4 of Letters to Satan

“We’regoing to pack, Damien?” My side-eye is gentler, knowing he reserves my given name for when we’re alone. He’s one of the few that’s allowed to address me in such a casual way.

“Well, you’ll pack, and I’ll supervise.”

“It’s what you do best,” he mutters, and this time, he doesn’t avoid the swat on his hand.

Chapter 2

Damien

Marissa takes a step into my private portal chamber, her eyes wide with curiosity and maybe a little fear. Understandable, considering few are permitted into my personal chambers. “Lucifer… your Devilishness, sir,” she stammers, her weird attempt at a curtsey falling short and turning awkward.

“I hear you are the best with portals?”

She licks her lips, her gaze shifting between the multiple pieces of luggage Xalreth is juggling, before finally settling on my Cerberuscoat. The oppressive heat causes sweat to stream down my spine, but I still push my hip out, savoring her envy.

It is a fabulous coat, really.

“I was at the top of my class for creating portals, and I have been serving the hierarchy for decades.”

“Fantastic. I need a portal to the front door of The Santa’s workshop.” Inside Hell, I'm able to teleport myself anywhere I'd like with just a thought, but travelling outside the realm is quite a bit more complicated.

She nods, her hands fidgeting in front of her. “Yes, sir, Xalreth informed me of your needs, and I am prepared whenever you are ready to travel.”

I turn to Xalreth. “Drekoth will run Hell in my absence, and I’m trusting you’ll keep in close communication with the Underworld while we’re away.” Drekoth is my second-in-command, an easy-going incubus that has no desire to attempt a coup on my throne.

Not that he could, of course.

I’m a goddamned force to be reckoned with.

He’s a competent leader, just not overly excited to do much of anything. One of the few incubi I’ve met that won’t even work for a booty call. Gods, I bet he is horrid in bed, and a sudden image of him laid out like a sloth, that purple anaconda he calls a dick just hanging out and waiting for someone to jump aboard. The thought makes me shudder.

There’s nothing worse than a lazy top.

Xalreth shoots me a funny look before he responds, “Yes, sir, we will keep a close eye on everything while we’re in the North Pole.”

I give him another nod. “Marissa!” I bellow, and she jumps clear off the ground.

“Y-y-yes, Lucifer?”

“We’re ready.”

She nods as Xalreth steps closer, crowding into my side as he repeats his instructions. “Portal us straight to the front door and be on standby for the first few hours in case we have any reason to flee. I will be in touch when we are set to return.”

“Yes, sir, I’ll be waiting for your orders,” she says, holding her hands in front of her as the familiar buzz of magic hums in the air. A minuscule light, barely larger than a match’s flame, shimmers and shivers as it builds the path to our destination. Little by little, it grows in size until the blinding white of snow is revealed on the opposite side. It’s like looking through a window, except the edges wobble and there’s no barrier of glass to stop the chill from blowing through.

A stray piece of snow flutters through, evaporating the very millisecond it hits the fiery atmosphere. More instinct than necessity, Xalreth closes his coat tighter over his broad chest. I give the plain design a once-over, smirking because it’s not as fabulous as mine.

“Are you ready?”

“Oh, I was born ready, motherfuckers.” Excited to make the North Pole my bitch, I strut towards the portal before his giant hand wrapsaround my biceps and slingshots me back. “Oh, sweet baby Jeebus!”

Xalreth glowers at me, confusion interrupting his irritation. “Jeebus?”

“Yes, yes, you know… the baby in the goat trough.”

“I think you mean… Jesus, sir.”

“That’s exactly what I said!” I snap, ripping my arm from his grip. “Why did you manhandle me? You know I don’t like you like that.”

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