Death Lord

21

I sat on the bed, silent. My head was spinning with everything Belial had said. Grief settled over my shoulders like a shroud, but the burning need for vengeance was gone. My father had brought his death upon himself, and I had to accept that. I would always love him and miss him, but I could admit that he’d gone too far too.

“I didn’t know,” I said. “No one ever told me the whole story.”

Belial stood up and crossed to the window, peering out at the darkening night sky. “It’s not exactly a fun tale.”

“No, but I should have known. He was my father and I loved him...but that doesn’t mean he didn’t make mistakes.”

“We all did, and look where it got us.” Belial turned back to me. “I never wanted to kill Fenrir, but I don’t regret it either. I would do it again if I had to. Though we were once allies, we made our own choices and stood on opposite sides of the battle in the end.” He moved to stand in front of me, towering over me with that strong, tall frame. “Now you must decide whether you want to stand against me too.”

I stared up at him, my heart pounding wildly in my chest. A kaleidoscope of emotions flickered inside me, and I had no idea how to feel anymore. I’d once thought Belial was my enemy, but now he was my ally too. Would he become my enemy again when this was all over? And what about the overwhelming desire I felt for him whenever he was near?

But most of all, I worried that if I let go of the anger that consumed me, all that would be left was that aching emptiness—a loneliness and restlessness I had no way to fill.

“I haven’t decided yet,” I told Belial.

I stood and went to walk around Belial to grab my luggage, but he wrapped his hand around my upper arm to stop me. The point of contact flared icy-hot, and I stilled. When I tilted my head to look up at Belial, his lips were parted, as if on a word. That pull to lean in, to close the distance between us, struck me like a brick to the back of the skull. I swayed, and Belial’s hand around my arm flexed and tightened minutely. It wasn’t tight enough to hurt, and I could easily break out of it if I wanted, but I didn’t want to.

“Eira,” he whispered, and the sound of my name on his lips sent heat straight between my thighs. He said my name like it pained him, like he was desperate for something only I could help him with. “I don’t want to be your enemy.”

I didn’t know how to answer that, especially when his other hand caressed my cheek, his thumb brushing against my lips, while he looked at me with so much need it actually burned. I was suddenly hyper-aware of the bed behind us, realizing Belial could easily throw me down on it. Did I want that? Yes, my mind whispered. Take me. Take everything.

I opened my mouth, not sure what exactly was going to come out of it, but before I could get a single word out, my phone chimed and the moment was broken. I shook myself free of Belial’s hold, struggling to take a deep breath. That was too close.

I put some distance between us as I pulled my phone out of my pocket. A message had arrived from Loki. I’m waiting at the bar for you.

“Loki’s downstairs waiting for me.”

“That’s convenient,” Belial said, raising his eyebrows. “I didn’t realize he was in town.”

“Me either.” I picked up my luggage, but Belial plucked it from my hands like it weighed nothing. If he was affected by what had just happened between us, I would never be able to tell. His face was completely impassive as he opened the door for me. Gone was the look of hunger in his eyes, and I found myself missing it.

I shook my head to clear it from those sorts of thoughts. I didn’t have time to be thinking about Belial throwing me down on a bed and having his way with me, not when there were bigger problems to deal with, like stopping the Furies. It was time to focus on that, and I’d deal with the strange attraction between me and Belial later.

11

BELIAL

I

grimaced as soon as I spotted Loki. It had been quite a few centuries since I’d seen him last, and even though his appearance had changed, he somehow hadn’t changed at all. As an imp, he was a master of illusion and deception, and he was known as the world’s greatest trickster for a reason. Somehow I doubted he’d become any more civilized since becoming an Archdemon either.

In his current form he had shiny black hair, perfect cheekbones, and a mischievous smile that never met his eyes. He lounged in a corner booth of the bar in an expensive suit, looking like he owned the place, but his eyes were watching everything, his clever brain always calculating.

Eira rushed toward Loki with an excited hop in her step, but I didn’t bother hiding my dislike of the imp as we approached, letting the scowl show on my face.

In return, Loki looked at me like he’d come across a dead fish in his house. “I’d say it’s a pleasure,” he said smoothly, “but I’d be lying.”

“We both know that’s what you’re good at,” I quipped back.Loki’s smile turned downright devious as we stared each other down. We had our reasons to hate each other. Back when I’d first tried to overthrow my father, Loki had been my friend and ally, and together we’d planned the coup against Lucifer. But right when I’d needed Loki the most, he’d betrayed me.