Page 94 of An Unexpected Ascension
The dark hair, the curved nose, full lips... the green eyes.
Fuck.
“No.” I cry, the word tumbling out on a desperate plea.
“Oh yes.” He seethes in my ear. “Damien Fentonelli killed my sister. Then went on to bore a son who continued to produce generation after generation like they weren’t made from the pit of Hell.
“I killed him with my own fucking hands. The same way he killed my sister. I watched the life snuff out from those green eyes. Eyes just like yours, Angel. Then I went on to kill my father and three more men, ridding the world of such a terrible evil. When I was eventually named the Executioner and a citywide man hunt was enacted, I took my own life.
“I couldn’t wait to get to Hell and see those damned faces again. The plans I had for those fuckers but imagine my surprise when I find out they were granted eternity in Heaven.”
“I-I don’t know what to say.”
“There’s not a single word in Heaven, Hell, or otherwise that would take back or fix what happened. I’m not looking for you to say a damn thing, Briar. Not looking for your sympathy, your pity, your apologies. No, I just want you to understand who you came from and how fucking unjust your Gods are.”
I nod, my cheeks wet, my nose running. I’m a product of such rot, a vile history in my very blood. My stomach lurches, forcing me to my knees as I heave, vomiting into the dirt at the demon’s feet.
“We’ll stop here for the night.”
Stepping around me, he summons a tent; a black tarp strung between two trees, secured to the ground with metal steaks. Though the outside looks less than comfortable, the inside is... shocking to say the least.
Dragging me from the ground, he ushers me into the shelter alit with a soft glowing lantern. A large rug covers the forest floor, atop it a bed with a duvet in the same color; black. Always black. The lack of red in this enclosure settles me some, allowing an illusion that I’m not in Hell.
“Still one bed,” I mutter.
“Yeah, I don’t need you to go missing in the night.”
“I just might, sleeping next to you.”
“Nah, I found I rather like keeping you around. If only for that needy cunt of yours.”
“How can you even look at me?”
I shouldn’t have asked. The question should have never left my mouth because I don’t know if I’ll be able to survive the answer.
He strips off his sword, tossing it next to his side of the bed, followed by his leather jacket, shirt, jeans... Those eyes that remind me so much of the girl from the memory, watch me with an intensity that scrapes away at my insides.
“It helps that you’re much prettier than the men in your family.”
“If I were a man, would you have asked Lucifer to eradicate me?”
“Yes.”
My heart sinks just the smallest bit, except I might have done the same if I were him.
“But because I’m not, you keep me around to use me.”
He shrugs, leaning against the mattress, the muscles in his abs contracting. Bruises bleed beneath the skin on his ribs, his chest, his arms – all from me when I should be the one wearing them.
I can’t bring myself to join him, so I stand there facing the bed as my gut clenches in shame.
“Did you see it happen?” My question was a mere whisper.
He shakes his head. “No. Those memories were gifted to me from the God of Hell. A reminder of why we’re starting this war, why we’re risking everything and everyone to eliminate the Gods of Heaven.”
I swallow. “I’m glad you killed him. Damien Fentonelli. I would have done the very same if I had the chance.”
“You can stop standing there like anything has changed. Get in the bed, Angel.”
