Page 82 of An Unexpected Ascension
He’s pushed forward a step with the crowd behind him eager to absorb my humiliation like food for the starving.
“Ah! What a splendid idea. What a great whore she’ll be.” He lifts me back to my feet.
“Humiliate her!” another cheers from the center of the mob, his fist raised above the heads that hide him.
“Tempting!” he responds. “But I think I’ll take my pretty little pet in the privacy of my quarters. This one shall personally see to all my wicked desires, yes?”
His fingers crush my cheeks between them, squeezing in demand for a response.
“Yes.” I seethe.
“Very well, show’s over.”
Groans of disappointment flood the streets, but the crowd begins to disperse as he tucks my body to him. In an instant, we’re free-falling again, swirling and spinning, until our feet are solidly back on the ground. Only, we’re not in the streets anymore, but in a shop.
I shove away from Hermes, his presence utterly infuriating.
“Punish me all you want; I don’t regret it. In fact, I’d do it again.”
He nods, his lips tugging up. “I don’t doubt it.”
A silver glint catches in the corner of my eye. I spin, noticing the wall behind a glass counter covered in various art forms of swords.Handles gold, silver, red, and black with intricate designs. Each one unique.
In the glass display case sits different assortments of sharp objects ready to claim their victims, lain over a silky black cloth.
The blades shimmer, flaunting their sensuality. A silent melody floats by, whispering and coaxing like a siren out at sea. It steals me away for a heartbeat, mesmerizing me, until the demon’s voice cuts through the entrancement.
“I’m just looking out for you. I wouldn’t want to drag home my little pet all battered and bloody. Although, I did really enjoy the bloody part last night.”
“Shut up.”
“We’re in Hell, Angel. Everywhere you look, you’ll find monsters. Ironically enough, you’re safest with me. Best to remember that.”
I sigh, sauntering toward the glass case, peering at a dagger with a particularly thin blade and black handle, wondering how it would feel in my hands. That one sang the loudest, the prettiest.
On Earth, I never held a weapon. Hated violence. Here? I have a feeling I should get used to both.
A slender man with exposed ribs and diseased skin saunters toward us from the back. His flesh a mix of grey, yellows, and greens. All colors that do not belong on a human.
“Hermes.” He nods.
“Jeremy.” The demon returns the sentiment, pointing at the dagger pinned by my stare. “We’ll take that one and the sword right there.” He points to the weapon on the right of the shop owner, the blade nearly two feet long with a handle matching my own.
“Thought it would be cute to match.” He winks.
Naturally, my eyes roll to the back of my head.
“Shoot me,” I mutter back.
Jeremy carefully places both weapons on top of the display case for approval, then holds out his arm. A wound nearly the length of his forearm oozes with yellow and green pus, a few maggots worming their way around in the decaying flesh.
Embarrassed, he picks them out, flicking them away like leftover crumbs from breakfast. Bile churns in my stomach, bubbling its way up my esophagus. Turning away, I breathe through my nose and shove that image deep, deep, deep into my subconscious for my nightmares later.
Hermes grabs his arm, wrapping his palm around the infection and within seconds it’s healed, not even a scar in its wake.
“Thank you. Thank you!” He laughs in relief.
“My turn,” I demand once we’re sheathing our new weapons.
