Asmodeus – Demon of Lust: Part 6

A/N – Hello readers! I’m so sorry for the delay, it is truly humbling that so many of you enjoy my writing. Thank you all for sticking with me and for your continued support; you all keep me writing. The storyline will pick up from the next chapter onwards with the introduction of a few new characters. In the meantime, after you’ve read this chapter, post a comment below and check out my poetry. Asmodeus and Selena (sort of) cameo in one of them and I reveal the name of their baby! Let me know if you figure it out. As always, please tell me what you think, either with a comment or you can email me at [email protected]. Happy reading!

Cheers,
Steelkat


Part 6

The next morning I wake up in Asmodeus’ arms again and nestle myself closer to his wonderfully warm chest. I tilt my face up and watch him sleep, letting my breathing mingle with his. He looks so lovely; his face peaceful and exquisite as an obsidian angel’s. I lean in and press my lips against his. When I draw back, twin rubies reveal themselves; framed by silver lashes. They are filled with only warmth and love for me while pearlescent white teeth flash fiendishly, hinting at something a little less innocent. My King has awoken.

I smile back at him, a genuine and sweet smile; one only he has seen as this is the first time I’ve ever had reason to show it. It speaks of a heart soaring beyond the sky and into the stars themselves. It sings hymns to the Gods and the Fates who have brought me here and allowed me to feel this way. It unearths the beginning of an ageless passion, too old and powerful for me to fully understand. This ardour is like a deep breath of clean air, it revitalises every cell in my body.

Now that I have decided to stay here for my baby, am I willing to admit that I feel more than passion or lust toward his father?

Maybe…

No. Humans don’t love as demons do. How can I possibly love someone after only four nights with him?

It doesn’t matter.

I’m here, nothing will change that. Whether I love him or not; I’m here with him. Whether I like it or not, I’m here. For the sake of my baby, I’m here; and for the schemes of a demon. And I may or may not love him, but God do I want him. He is after all, passionate and intoxicating, and he has been kind to me. Maybe love will follow.

Maybe…

I pry my subconscious away from thoughts of unrequited love as Asmodeus’ hands snake down my abdomen to rub the smooth, stretched skin of my small protruding belly. The warmth of his skin on mine feels heavenly but a part of me protests, a little uncomfortable at being touched on such sacred a place. I had felt absolutely no embarrassment whatsoever when he touched me before, in the most intimate ways a woman can be touched.

But somehow, this feels different; I can’t place my finger on it. It feels like some archaic instinct, imbedded deep within every expectant mother, the irrevocable need to protect my baby from anything that could break through the thin layer of defence which is all I have to offer. But it isn’t only that, it’s a feeling I can’t explain, something which makes me angry and jealous and heart-sick all at once. I don’t know what it is, but I do know that whatever the reason, I can’t stand him touching my womb.

Irrational?
Of course.

Do I care?
Hell fucking no.

I squirm away from him.

He pulls me in closer, running his hand down my side, over the curve of my butt.

Ahh… now that’s more like it.

I’m fine with this kind of touching of course, and happy just to lie here and revel in his caress. That is, until his hand wanders back over to my abdomen.

Annoyed, I push uncomfortably against his hand, a whiney groan rising from my throat.

“Stop, Asmodeus, you’re creeping me out.”

All the glowing contentedness I’d been feeling only moments before vanishes into thin air as my irrational annoyance grows. I know he’s being loving and gentle but all I see is an almost maniacal possessiveness, and I don’t like it.

“What troubles you my Selena?” he inquires, although I wouldn’t be surprised if the question was just a formality. He seems to know me better than I know myself.

Still I hesitate, feeling ridiculous.

“I just…” I huff in frustration, “I don’t like you… touching me there.”

“And why would that be love?” he asks, sliding his fucking hand over my belly again.

I grind my teeth together, my anger rising. Why must he insist on pissing me off? Yanking at his arm proves useless, so I slip off the bed and away from his touch.

“I just don’t alright!” I raise my voice. “Don’t you have anything better to do?”

His eyes dance with amusement and the corners of his firm lips curl up into a frustrating little smile. He’s still lying on the bed where I left him, in all his bare glory, with an elbow propping him up and a hand disappearing into his tousled silver hair.

“As a matter of fact my love, there exists nothing that I would consider better than basking in the pleasure of your company.” He purrs, ignoring my heated stare. “There is however, the less appealing chore of managing my slice of the underworld. I shall leave you if that is your wish.”

He hauls himself off the bed when I say nothing, his muscles rippling with the movement.

“I will summon Ida in my stead, to watch over you while I am occupied,” he says, walking towards me.

He presses his body close to mine, combing the fingers of one hand through my hair while the other wonders lower, brushing against my thigh. I shudder delicately, a spike of pleasure slicing through my heart, and a part of me cursing my innate need to fight with the one person who has ever made me feel this way. Then his lowered hand brushes not-so-subtly against my abdomen again, and I remember precisely why he makes me so mad.

I shove his arm away and march back over to the bed, hunkering down angrily.

Chuckling he walks leisurely toward the exit.

When he parts the bumpy wall, Ida is waiting already. Instinctively I grab a bed sheet again and cover myself as she walks in nervously, dipping her head in a bow past Asmodeus. No words are exchanged between them yet Ida seems to know her job already. Does she have some freaky telepathic link with her master?

“Play nice ladies,” Asmodeus calls as he exits, walking through the archway and closing the cave behind him.

When the grinding din at the doorway finally stops, silence as heavy as winter snow falls between the demoness and me. As with the day before, her tail is wrapped tightly around her leg, physically betraying her fear of me.

Well I can’t say I blame her, after the way I treated her.

Regret hits me suddenly, and for the first time since our ill-fated meeting, I realise the impact of my behaviour. Sure, I’d been jealous, in pain and afraid but I shouldn’t have taken it out on Ida. She did take care of me after all.

The silence lengthens as she waits for an order, her head bowed and hands clasped against the rough material of her skirt. I struggle to form my apology, guilt lodging the words in my throat. She shifts her weight like a skittish little bird, looking so pitiful that my heart goes out to her. I call her toward me. She watches me warily, untrusting of my intentions.

“Come on,” I call again, “I won’t bite.”

“Begging your pardon, majesty, but I fear you will do much worse.” She winces as she says the words, as if they escaped without her consent. She is quick to take them back.

“Please my Lady! Forgive my rash words.”

Poor woman, looks like she’s about to pass out with the fear. Tears start to roll down her face before I can respond.

“No it’s okay,” I try and assure her, rushing off the bed toward her.

I reach out to pat her shoulder but she cringes away from my hand. Yanking it back, I retreat a step as she covers her face with her hands and sinks to her knees. I lower myself into an awkward crouch, by body still barely covered by the sheet. I keep my distance, afraid that one false move on my part will plunge her into hysterics.

“Ida.” I say, trying to coax her out of her broken despair.

She mumbles feebly in response and folds tighter within herself.

“Ida, look at me,” I command.

She shakes her head, her face still hidden behind delicate hands.

Losing my patience, I scuttle forward and pry them out of the way.