A Legacy of the Damned: Daughter of Astaroth

Chapter 21 - A Spoiled Toddler

"You," he says. "I want you."

My breath hitches. My stomach clenches at the fire in his eyes and I swallow hard. "You have me. You paid for me, remember?" I remind him with a catch in my voice.

His nostrils flare. "But do I really?" he asks. "Do I really have you?"

I look down at the knot of his tie. I belong to no one...I belong to Astaroth.

He grasps my chin between his fingers. "Eyes on me, princess," he demands, forcing my gaze up to him. "If I gave you this phone, what's the first thing you'd be doing with it?"

"What do you mean?" I hedge. I know exactly what he means. We're not talking about the phone. It's never just about the phone.

"If I gave you your freedom, would you use it as a knife to stab me in the back?"

I try to turn my face away but the grip he has on my chin keeps me immobilized. I usually have no problem lying while staring at the person straight in the eye. I felt zero guilt. But I can't seem to be able to do that to him. I can only stare into the deep mysterious depth of his eyes, unable to answer him.

Or maybe I don't want to answer him because the answer is yes. The moment I get the chance and my freedom, I will take one step after another to destroy him and his fellow Nephilims and all his allies.

It's true that Astaroth and the other first hierarchy of demons are keeping the balance in the world, but that's just to protect their own interest. The truth is, they would seize the opportunity to shift that balance the first chance they get.

For thousands of years, Astaroth and his cronies strategize, plan, and plot to reign over humanity and strip the Nephilims and all their allies of their influences and power.

Apocalypse. When the three princes of Hell; Astaroth, Beelzebub, and Lucifer rise to power, the end of the world will follow and that's Astaroth's ultimate desire and I am one of his soldiers to bring him the glory.

The truth must be showing on my face because his grip on my chin tightens. A flash of anger turns his eyes a molten golden hue. "Baby, sometimes your look of innocence and beauty make me forget that you're one of them and that's dangerous."

In a flash, he pushes off me and is standing over me.

The absence of his body weight and heat pressing down on me draw out a soft involuntary cry of protest from my throat. I feel the loss so acutely and I flatten my lips together to stop from revealing more of the effect he has on me.

His thick eyebrows furrow and the line of his jaw tightens as he stares at me with cool, unreadable eyes. Then he shakes his head and turns around to look out the window, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his dress pants as though to stop himself from reaching out to touch me again.

I can only stare at the tautness of his broad shoulders and back. his whole body is tensed. His dark brown hair looks soft, curling around his ears and the nape of his neck, tempting me to run my fingers through it.

He continues to gaze outside without saying a word for a good while. He's furious but I don't know if his anger is directed at me or at someone or something else.

What does he want from me? Does he expect me to switch sides and declare undying loyalty to him and his kind?

Maybe Olivier was right, we could never work.

When he turns his head, presenting his profile to me, I can see the tick in the muscle of his jaw. "Make sure to return my shirt to the hamper," he says cooly. He's distancing himself from me and it feels like he's driving a stake through my heart.