Page 1 of Lust

FELIX

Fury courses through my veins, a seething storm that shapes my features into a scowl. This was not how it was meant to be. I had every fucking detail meticulously planned out before everything got shot to shit last night in London. Anthura is going to pay for this. My gaze falls upon the message Remy sent me on my Hell Cell, the one that rudely interrupted my slumber.

I GOT THROUGH WITH CANDICE. DID YOU MAKE IT?

The words burn my eyes as I read them over and over. Candice, that treacherous bitch. I should have come through to Lust with her. My fingers tighten around the Hell Cell, tempting me to crush it to oblivion.

But Remy… He’s a spineless moron, so how the fuck did he manage to get through the third trial with Candice? I know he’s been fucking her. I actually found it amusing how he’d dress like me, and then fuck my sloppy seconds. I just wasn’t planning on the two of them pairing up together in the Earthery. He was supposed to go through with Snowflake. I had it all planned out.

Maybe the dude finally came to his senses where that bitch is concerned. I’d rather stay in Purgatory forever than have to pair up with that monstrosity. Except I didn’t choose Purgatory. I made the decision to come through to the next circle of Hell. The memory of last night comes back to me again, ending in another wave of blazing anger through my veins. This is fucking Anthura’s fault. She could have stepped in, but the fucking bitch left me to fend for myself. What is the point of fucking a demon if they aren’t going to do what I want when I want it?

I drag myself out of bed and storm out of my bedroom. As my hand grasps the door handle, I suddenly realize I’m back in my original room and no longer in the penthouse suite. Frustration makes me growl, and I forcefully swing open the door to the front balcony. A waft of perfume hits my senses as I take in the new view. It’s pink. The walls, the carpet, the wood. Every part of the donut shaped balcony is a shade of pink. It’s like being trapped inside a giant vagina. Holding back the scowl, I ascend the stairs two at a time trying try to release some of my pent-up energy. Though I feel exhausted when I reach the top floor, my anger shows no sign of fading. I yank at the glass door without caring about the late hour. Anthura shouldn’t have bothered stitching me up if she was concerned about her beauty sleep. Halfway through the door, I freeze upon hearing voices that make me hesitate. Swiftly, I retreat out of view, concealing myself behind the long red drapes. A woman's voice fills the air, captivating me with the sexiest French accent I’ve ever heard.

“Malheureusement, Anthura, Moloch, I won't be needing your services for any o' ze next trials, mon ami. I already 'ave zem all planned out, and eet was 'Ade's opinion zat trop de cuisiniers gâtent le bouillon, or in zis case, trop de démons gâtent les épreuves.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Anthura snaps. I’ve known Anthura to have a bite, but I’ve never heard her lose her cool before. She sounds livid. I translate the French in my head and smile. Serves the bitch right. She can’t even manage the one fucking thing I needed her to do.

To my surprise, it's Moloch who responds to her outburst. “I believe the saying goes, 'too many cooks spoil the broth,' but in this case, too many demons spoil the games.”

I lean in, positioning my eye near a small hole in the thick fabric, and peer through. Although the French woman is beyond my line of sight, Anthura's anger at her is obvious. Her brow is furrowed, her jaws clenched, and she looks dangerous. If I wasn’t so livid with the way she fucked everything up, I’d almost be turned on. It’s about time someone stood up to her. Moloch doesn’t have the balls and despite the fact that I was one of the richest and most powerful men in America with people lining up to kiss my ass, that doesn’t mean shit down here. A fact, Anthura likes to hold over me at any given opportunity.

“No!” Anthura stands, her face almost as red as her pvc cat suit with rage. “I was promised I’d go through this with them. Why do you think I put up with their incessant whining for so long?”

“Anthura, mon cher.” The other woman’s voice is like warm honey. “Youweelbe goin' through it with zem. Surely you didn't zink I was plannin' to send you back to Purgatory? Non, you and Moloch will partner up and become contestants in ze Inferno Games. Excitant, n'est-ce pas?”

Holy shit. Anthura is no longer in charge?

“She said that we are now contestants in the—”

“I fucking heard what she said, Moloch, and it’s fucking bullshit.”

“I assure you that eet’s not bullsheet. ‘Ade’s told me eemself.”

Anthura moves out of my eye line and I hear her heels tap on the floor as she undoubtedly faces up to this mystery woman. “I don’t give a flying fuck what Hades said to you. I run this show and I’m not prepared to let it go to some half-baked trollop like you. Now fuck off out of my apartment… Moloch, you can fuck off, too.”

As I move to leave through the glass door, I catch sight of Moloch turning away and exiting through the back. Waiting a couple of minutes after they've gone, I nonchalantly open the glass door, close it again, and step out from behind the curtains. Anthura glances up from where she's standing at the kitchen counter. I shouldn't take pleasure in her predicament, but considering the stunt she pulled last night, she deserves whatever is coming her way. It's high time she gets a taste of the shit she's been dishing out to me.

I take the seat next to her. “Everything alright? You look like shit? Have you been crying?” I mock.

She looks unruffled and an image of perfection as always. And if there’s one thing I know about Anthura, it’s that she never cries. I think the bitch actually had her tear ducts removed, or maybe demons aren’t born with tear ducts. Still, I’m not going to let up the chance to rub salt into the wounds.

“No. Everything is not fucking alright,” she snaps. “Some fucking bitch from the Second Circle thinks she can take my spot as head of the games. Apparently, Hades told her she could. Two faced asshole. I swear to the almighty Satan himself, I’m going to break that bitch if it’s the last thing I do.

I lean against the counter. Seeing Anthura as pissed as this is quite a sight to behold. “Hades or the Second Circle woman?”

She glares at me. “Both of them. Actually, there’s not much I can do about Hades. These are his games, but Noémi, that bitch is going down. She wants me to be a contestant in the games. Can you fucking believe it?”

It’s nothing less than she deserves. “You know what, Anthura? I don’t give a shit.” I slam my fist down on the counter, rattling a couple of bottles of Dragonfire Whiskey that are sitting on the counter. “Maybe you’ll finally figure out what a shit show these games are now you’re on our side of them. What the fuck happened last night? I was supposed to get through with Candice but fucking Bradford got to her first.”

She reaches across me and grabs one of the bottles before unscrewing the top and taking a swig straight from it. “I was dealing with my own shit.” She hands me the bottle. I pull over two glasses and pour liberal measures into both.

A murmur rumbles through her chest. “You got through, didn’t you? What’s your fucking problem?”

My hand closes tightly round one of the glasses. “The problem is, Anthura, that you were supposed to make it easy.”

Anthura shrugs as though this isn’t a big deal. “So? I’ve been telling you for weeks what a slut Candice is. I’m not even surprised she was hanging both of you losers from a string.”

If I grip the glass any tighter, I’m going to shatter it. I down the whiskey neatly and slam the glass down on the counter. “Damn it Anthura. You did this. I know you did. You were in charge of who got put where in London. Here’s what I think. I think you were jealous that I was fucking someone else as well as you, so you decided to put Remy and Candice together to teach me a lesson.”

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