the sweetly scented killer

disgusting

seth

He won't shut the fuck up.

I already told him I'd let him leave if he stopped screaming so damn loudly. But he just couldn't comply. I mean, is it really that bad getting your foot cut off? I don't think so. At least, not as bad as he was making it sound.

"Seth," my brother calls me when I walk out of the torture chambers.

"What, Damien?" I turn around, frowning at him.

"There's some bitch here asking for you."

"What's her name?"

"Victoria."

"Where is she?"

"The foyer." I nod.

I meet Victoria in a lounge chair. We go back to my suite, we kiss, she teases me, we fuck, then fuck again, then I lie on my back while her head rests on my chest. My hands rest comfortably behind my head while I stare up at the ceiling.

"What are you humming?" Victoria asks, her voice muffled by the sheets close to her mouth.

I tune back into my previous actions, and realize I was humming a song I have no idea the origin of. "I don't know," I say. "What do I owe you?"

Victoria sits up and kisses me on the lips. She looks me in the eyes lustfully. "For you, nothing," she whispers.

"Sounds good to me," I sit up. "Now, get out of my sight."

"But, Seth—" I send her away with a wave of my hand. She wasn't taken out of existence, she's just...elsewhere.

"Gresill," I call upon my assistant. He appears next to me.

"Yes, my lord?"

"When am I supposed to meet father for dinner?"

"Your father would like your presence for dinner a quarter past the upcoming hour." I check the time, and it's almost six o'clock now.

"And if I don't go?"

"He said, and I quote, 'I will take you out of existence.'"

I nod slowly. He would never do it for my mother's sake, but there's no point in testing him. "Okay. Remind me in ten minutes."

"As you wish, my lord. Would you like to hear your other reminder?"

"What reminder?"

"Your creation date is in two days' time."

"Thank you, Gresill. That will be all." And so he vanishes out of sight.

I don't really care who my mate is. It's not like I have to love her. And knowing women from hell, she probably won't love me either. That's fine by me. Who wants to commit to loving someone for the rest of their existence? Actually, I know exactly the answer to that question: those damn humans.

I must have talked them up, because the bell rings, signaling the arrival of yet another dead human to torture.

I unbutton my shirt while standing at the dresser in my room. My voice starts low, then increases in treble as the tune goes on.

While taking my shirt off, I feel the sudden urge to scratch my fingers. I frown, and look at the presence of a red rash forming. Since when do demons get rashes? I'll have to get one of those annoying angels from heaven to heal it. But do I feel like going up there and being blinded by all the light and hope and happiness and the deafening silence due to the absence of screams in the distance? Hell no.

I change my shirt and go to dinner.

"Ah, my last born," mother says when I sit down. She walks around the back of my chair and kisses my head. I lean away from her frowning. "What is this rash on your fingers, darling?" she holds my hand in hers.

"I don't know," I snatch it away.

"I wish I could heal you of all that harms you, my beautiful boy." Mother strokes my hair out of my face. I pull away from her again. She smiles at me.

Of course my father had to go and mate with an angel, so she's probably the only person in hell who actually feels the emotion of love. The amount of time she's spent in hell has deprived my mother of her angelic ability to heal. She might not have her gifts anymore, but she's sure as hell still an angel.

It's exhausting—hearing her saying she loves me every time we part ways. If she wasn't my mother, I'd execute her in the blink of an eye.

"How was your day, Damien?" she asks my older brother while sitting back down.

"Uneventful," he shrugs.

"Seth?" mother smiles at me.

"Eventful," I put my napkin in my lap. Technically, we don't require food to continue existence. But it's something we in hell, and those in heaven do anyway, for no other purpose but pleasure.

"I talked with Karma today," father says. "She says the humans are getting worse by the day. I think it may be time for another war. Something to wake them up and wipe out a few of the bad ones. Send them down here. Maybe a pandemic."

"Honey, I hardly think death is the way to teach the humans a lesson," mother takes his hand.

"You're right, beautiful," he kisses her hand. She smiles at him, tilting her head. I look at him again.

I know he's going to do it anyway. My father is a very well respected demon in hell. He does things she doesn't approve of everyday.

My eyes drift back to the blonde woman that is my mother. Living in hell has opened her eyes a lot more than when she was in heaven. She knows he does these things, yet she stays with him. Because she...loves him. I never understood this. I always credit my confusion to my being a demon, and therefore, I am incapable of understanding the concept of love. But then again, if this theory were true, wouldn't my father be an unqualified candidate for loving her?

For some odd reason, I like to think that my father loves my mother. I can't put my finger on the exact reason. Maybe it's because I can see how much she loves him.

If he is capable of love, does that mean he loves Damien and myself? And most of all, am I capable of the same?

"Are you excited to meet your mate, my love?" mother asks me. I think about when my brother met his mate. A woman named Erica. I've never met her more than one time, as he never brings her around us. He doesn't love her because he doesn't have to. And I won't have to love my mate.

"Not necessarily. Why do I even need a mate? It's pointless and I'm not going to love her anyway."

"Well don't think like that, son," father says. "Look how it turned out for your mother and me." He smiles at her, and she tilts her head back at him with a warm smile. I roll my eyes.

"The point in having a mate is to have someone to spend your existence with," mother says. "You will produce offspring, and contribute non-living beings to our existence. And, no, you don't have to love her. But wouldn't it be wonderful if you did?" I glance at her holding father's hand. I then look at my brother next to me. He rolls his eyes.

"I suppose," I say to appease my mother.

"Splendid," she grins. "Maybe Erica is a bit distant, but at least I have another chance to love a daughter."

"Yes, mother," I give her a small smile. She smiles back at me.

"I love you, my beautiful boy." Disgusting. I nod once at her, then go back to eating.