|Ashwings -8- Hell Spawn|
I had found my refuge, after sprinting through the palace and finding no room I felt was safe. I went outside, I aimlessly wandered and then approached a large fountain. It wasn’t special, it was a simple one with three multi level basins, like a cupcake display with water trickling down.
I’ve found my feet standing in the water, because it looks clean enough to drink. The bottom of the basin isn’t full of grime. It’s clear, it’s warm and it’s comforting. I kneel it in, wetting the yellow silk while the bronze plates against my breasts are hugging me tight.
I lean into the middle of the fountain, while the water reaches the tops of my knees but not the top of my thighs. I hug the rock pillar, sobbing, looking at the E. Horizon and cursing myself for getting so close that Myron scared me over.
One successful ‘boo’ and I was doomed for eternity. How tragic.
Now to top it off, I had eaten food like a fool, laced with aphrodisiacs. It wasn’t like I could avoid it forever. This whole place was a sin, guarded by the angels to punish you for falling for it.
Blue Blood Tears. I didn’t understand.
I hiccup on a breath. He was in my head.
Blue Blood, Demon’s Blood, I couldn’t see Valentine, but he was speaking calmly through my brain, You’re a daughter of Hell’s King. No need to feel privileged, he has a harem of mortal concubines that regularly pop out Blue Bloods like you and then gift them to families with no children on the moral plane.
“No,” I whisper the word.
You can’t say no to the truth.
Valentine’s words make no sense, so I try to avoid them.
“Why do you want to see me cry…?” I hug the fountain a bit tighter.
Why does God punish his prized warrior angels by banishing them from heaven?
God – no pun intended – I didn’t know?!
We were granted sin to kill, not to lust. Your Blue Blood kind tempted us beyond duty and now we’re hell bound to the mortal plane in immortal form, constantly tempted and banned from returning to heaven. We live in limbo, doing God’s work while damned to infinite boredom and freedom to commit sin. We use the Devil’s word against him, to punish and play with his demons.
You fight for nothing, I whisper it back in my head.
On the contrary, I quite enjoy my place, Ivy. I have a third invitation. Ascend to my balcony and my bedchamber, let me show you what it means to be an Archangel’s toy.
“No,” I spit the word, trying to banish my need to submit and beg for mercy, “And I don’t believe you. I’m just a mortal. Not some daughter of Satan.”
It’s fact, sweetheart. You’re born into innocence and lust, you’re as Damned as a Blas Angel. You belong nowhere. Except here, belonging nowhere with me. You can sit there all night, crying into a rock pillar, or you can talk to me. The invitation still stands.
“Does anyone say no to you, Valentine?”
I imagine Valentine swooping in and picking me up, arms around my waist, taking me to his balcony, laying me on his bed, undressing me, kissing my neck, tasting between my legs. All these images flash through my mind and I hug the fountain tighter.
Your answer? Valentine sounds hungry.
No, it takes my sheer strength to whisper it back, even just mentally, and my lungs wrench out a sob as I gasp and try to breathe. It was hard having will power in this place.
No to what? Now that’s just selfish and conceited, Ivy, are you low enough to refuse my generosity? I even shone a light on what I’d give you. Love, careful handling, soft kisses to your skin. A taste of heaven.
Yes, I whisper it before I can take it back.
And now you’re a liar.
I hear the water splash behind me and I look over my shoulder, seeing nothing but perfect skin over perfectly sculpted muscles because Valentine’s so close already. He wraps one large arm around my waist, hauling me up effortlessly.
I scream out and struggle as Valentine takes off in the air. He flies me past his balcony, straight inside, until he’s thrown me on a huge bed in a grey stone bedchamber.
Valentine watches my form collapse into his perfectly made sheets, curled in on my side as I sit up and face not one… but three Archangels.
Myron is naked and brandishing a long formidable whip. Guzza is holding a long candle dripping wax. Valentine holds nothing, but his open palm slowly fills with his own device.
A sword appears, inch by inch by inch.
Valentine reaches out and the tip of the flaming sword caresses the wire bent in the valley of my breasts. It’s so blinding I can barely face it.
I stay still, however and one touch from the sword and the whole outfit turns to dust. Not even ash remains.
I blink open my eyes and I’m totally naked as Valentine’s sword is swallowed up in embers and disappears into thin air.
Each Archangel is naked, their wings lazily bent against the floor.
I assume Myron and Guzza have finished punishing Alexios and December.
I grab a pillow behind me in a haste, holding it to my naked chest.
“I called them here to help, liar,” Valentine accuses me of the sin as he nods at Myron and Guzza, “The other Blue Bloods can wait.”
Myron turns and flings the long whip out, cracking it once. I squeak and Guzza grins, holding out a hand and dropping the wax in his palm, showing me it doesn’t make him flinch.
“She’s so adorably boring,” Myron drawls to Valentine.
“I’m not boring!” I yell out, defensively.
“Turn around,” Valentine commands me, finally turning to me, showing me his nebulic eyes, “On your hands and knees, mortal.”
“But why?” I whisper, clenching the pillow, “What is this?”
“It’s time for you to break for us, sweetheart,” Valentine clicks his fingers, his lip curling in a tiny hint of amusement…
…but then the whole room fades to black.
“I’m blind,” I blurt, feeling things around me but only seeing darkness.
“Good,” Valentine’s voice is getting closer, the bed is moving, and I feel the pillow being tugged out of my feeble grip. He throws it aside, I hear fire roar, the air from the movement of wings, the brush of falling ash touching my skin and then Valentine’s voice flutters to my ear as one hand scoops around the back of my head, holding me up at a comfortable angel, “Now. Open your mouth. Wide.”
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