Satan's Queen

1

It felt good.

More than good—it felt phenomenal. It was an unusual thing for Lucifer. Despite his limitless physical strength, he'd never actually beaten someone before. Why would he when he had all the power in the world to manipulate and torment and horrify?

And yet here he was, smashing Jacob's face in. The angel didn't even resist, kneeling on the floor as the blood spattered his chest and dripped down his chin. He didn't grunt. He didn't groan. He didn't cry for Lucifer to stop. And all it did was make Lucifer even more angry.

Why couldn't he break him?

With a roar, Lucifer turned and punched his fist into the wall. He felt nothing as the volcanic rock cracked beneath his fingers. The air hissed between his teeth.

'Feel better?' Jacob said, as though nothing had happened, spitting out a mouthful of clotted blood.

'Goddamn you! Why are you not on the floor?'

Jacob wiped his mouth. 'Because I have God on my side. Can you deny what you see?'

Lucifer sneered. 'I see a defeated man on his knees.'

Jacob shook his head but said nothing. Lucifer's hands started to shake. He curled them into fists so the angel wouldn't see. With a snarl, he turned and walked out of the room, the door crashing shut behind him as he entered onto one of his many corridors.

Lucifer took a breath as he raked his still trembling fingers through his hair. What was happening to him? He looked down at his bloodied knuckles. He clenched and unfurled them, then looked down to his cock which gleamed in the light of the torches. Kaitlyn's cum was still fresh. He could still smell her. He could almost feel her breath upon his neck.

He turned his senses to their bedroom, seeking her out. Seeking out the feel of her. She was like a wall of warmth. Like a little pink sun that beamed out towards him, reaching for him, seeking him out as much as he sought her. But the room was cold and dark. No sun. No warmth. She was gone.

Stiffening, he flung out his senses. Why had he left her alone? Fool!

He found her quickly. She was on the bridge leading to his throne room.

With a wave of his hand he translocated onto the bridge. The river of fire raging below roared in his ears. He could feel the heat, though his immortal body wasn't affected by it. The air was thick with clouds of smoke. He could hear the distant sound of screaming as the fires ravaged countless souls. It happened quickly. So quickly. For a moment he couldn't see anything against the thick, black smoke, but at a flash of movement he whipped his head towards the railing. He narrowed his eyes but could see nothing. Then he heard it—a scream. Brief and piercing. One which stabbed him in the heart like a knife.

'No!'

He could feel her falling. He felt the flames curling around her, seizing her in their blistering fingers. With a desperate fling of his arm, he snatched her up before she could sink any deeper. He appeared in their bedroom just as she did, though he couldn't recognise her, a writhing, howling mass of melting tissue scorched black from the flames. For several moments all Lucifer could do was stare. Something large and hard lodged in his throat.

Her tortured screams rang in his ears, though they sounded distant, as though he heard them from afar, disjointed from reality. A peculiar cold swept through his body like an icy breath, one which seemed to freeze his senses and muddle his thoughts. All he could do was stare at the streamers of sticky skin hanging from her body, her blistered scalp, her lipless mouth. It wasn't as though he hadn't seen disgusting, horrible, shocking things in his long life. It wasn't as though he hadn't created disgusting, horrible, shocking things. Why should he be so affected now? Her screaming turned hoarse. She started to choke, grabbing at her throat. He didn't have time to wonder—her airway was swelling up.