Page 68 of An Unexpected Ascension
My legs are wobbly by the time I finally stand again, belly full of liquor and chocolate. The guard that escorted me here is long gone, so I journey the castle alone with a hand planted along the wall to keep me upright.
I follow the paintings in the hall, remembering how we passed them before. The men, those must be his sons. Both dark haired and handsome like their father. The fiery haired woman,yes, the woman from the vision brought on by the tree, Ada. She’s beyond words. A type of beauty that cannot be described. Her features are pale, her nose slender and lips full, hazel eyes that glitter with an endless depth of love.
Their story strikes a sensitive chord deep in my belly. That kind of love that lasts for lifetimes, eternity and still felt with a blazing passion. The type of love I found on Earth, it was... hard, brutal, and fearful.
Those flashbacks, they weren’t anything to wish for. Somehow, I’m finding Hell to be a lot more welcoming than my life back on Earth.
Spinning on my heels too fast, I stumble forward, ready to face-plant. Before my nose has a chance to meet with the shining tiles, I’m sprung back up to my feet. Globes of navy – darker than the bottom of the ocean – cut me in two.
His hand remains in a tight grip around my arm, his heavy breath tickling my face. As I escape from the hold of his gaze, I find blood splattered and spilling in various places – his cheekbone, the split in his lip, his ear.
“What happened?”
“You happened.” He sneers.
“I didn’t?—”
“No, but because of you, I’ve spent the better part of the night fighting depravity in the form of a beast.”
With a roll of my eyes, I dismiss his dramatics and make to shuffle around him. Only, my balance wavers and my hand catches on his shoulder.
“Are you drunk?” There’s an amusement in his voice that wasn’t there before.
“Maybe. Unlike you, the Devil has been very welcoming.”
His gaze shifts to his shoulder where my hand is still firmly planted. The moment I notice, I yank it back, only for his fingers to interlock with my own. My skin burns where he touches me, a sizzling fire racing along the flesh of my palm. He crowds me, the demon taking full advantage of the liquor flooding my senses.
Upon my back, a cold washes over my flushed shoulders as they touch the chilled wall.
“Don’t get the wrong impression. He may be warm towards you now, but don’t expect him to save you, Angel. You’re mine to torment and he won’t intervene if I don’t wish him to.”
“And how do you plan to torment me, hmm? There’s a rumor that you don’t hate me as much as you tell yourself you do,” I taunt.
My lower lip slips between my teeth as I fight a triumphant smile. War rages inside midnight blue irises while teeth reveal themselves as a show of weapons. There’s a tangible lust that sits heavy between us, the wine a little spark to a maddening flame.
With one hand, the demon brings my wrists above my head, trapping them against the wall behind me. His face inches closer, shadowed by the dimly lit sconces spaced along the hallway. With shuddered breaths, my chest brushes against his, my nipples aching with need.
His free hand snakes over my collarbone, creeping up, his palm grazing the column of my neck. Strong fingers settle just under my jaw in a controlling grip, forcing my gaze to his. Forcing me to take him in, all of him.
The fierce angle of his jawline, the perfectly straight slope of his nose, scruff only days old and the flush upon his cheeks. He’s stunning, irritatingly so.
Lazily, I trail over his carefully crafted features, saving his eyes for last. Turmoil swirls in a blue so deep, it’s nearly as black as his hair. A complete contradiction to the way his lips curl in a seductive smirk.
“You think I don’t hate you?” His words wash over my face in a caressing breath.
The grin once held in place now falters, slipping from the way my heart stutters and my lungs trip.
“Not as much as you say you do.”
His mouth lowers, hovering over my own, drinking in every word I give him.
“What makes you think that, Angel?”
A vicious tremor courses through me, and I resent the way it flares an amusement within him. How I shudder at his touch and melt when he calls me Angel. How his heat bleeds into me forcing its way between my thighs. Yet, I don’t have it in me to pull away.
“Maybe the way your lips burn to touch mine any chance they get or possibly the way I harden more than just your gaze.”
My mouth brushes against his with every word whispered. Nomore smiles between us, just the deafening drum of our hearts clashing in discord.
