"Is that the best you got?" Valentine sneered, his voice raspy, spitting a thick gob of crimson blood from his dry mouth onto the cold, hard cement floor. He was in Alistair's dungeon in Hell, chained to a wall, the rough iron manacles biting into his wrists. He'd been in this abysmal dungeon for at least a week, a stretch of torment marked only by the shifting shadows in the perpetual twilight.
The air was thick and stagnant, reeking of stale blood, rot, and despair. He'd been sending Alistair's men on wild goose chases since the moment he arrived, his mind sharp despite the pain. First, he'd told them Jinx went to Paris, then he'd confidently claimed it might have been Italy, then who knew, maybe even the dusty plains of Russia. They were growing visibly tired of his elaborate games, their patience wearing thin, but he didn't care. As long as it bought Jinx more time, he would endure.
At first, the torture hadn't been too bad, a mere inconvenience for an Incubus. But over time, it had escalated, becoming a relentless, agonizing cycle. It didn't help the situation that he literally couldn't die easily; they would cut him up into a bloody mess, leaving him a mangled heap, and a few hours later, his demonic regeneration would stitch him back together, leaving him fully healed and ready for more. A fresh canvas for their brutality.
"We are sick of your fucking games! Tell us where they are now!" one of the demons roared, his face contorted with frustrated fury. Valentine let out a weak, rattling laugh, which quickly devolved into a fit of hacking coughs, each spasm sending fresh pain through his battered ribs. "You mean you didn't find them in Italy? What a shame," he rasped, leaning his head back against the cold, unforgiving wall, his gaze falling to his wrists. They were chafed raw, covered with angry red marks where the metal cuffs dug into his otherwise clear skin.
One of the demons, his patience snapping at Valentine constantly having the last word, lunged forward and stabbed Valentine hard, a brutal, sickening thrust right into the middle of his chest. Valentine roared in pain, a raw, involuntary sound torn from his throat. "Shit!" The demon smiled, a twisted, cruel grin, twisting the knife, digging it deeper, making a fresh river of blood run down his already scarred chest.
"Is it funny now, you smart bastard?" the demon sneered, his eyes alight with cruel satisfaction. Valentine clamped his mouth shut, his jaw clenched against the agony. He was breathing heavily, each breath a shallow, painful gasp. He wished he could use his magic to get out of this hell, to summon a burst of seductive energy and make them his slaves, but his body was simply too weak. He hadn't been able to garner lust from any of Alistair's men; there were no women, and the demons were too focused on pain to feel desire for him. Thus, he was unable to harness his powers. He'd tried several times, desperately, but nothing worked.
As one of the demons, his eyes gleaming with sick delight, began to stab him repeatedly in the stomach, looking like a gleeful kid in a candy store, the other grabbed his head, yanking it back, forcing him to meet his dark, soulless eyes. "You'll rot in this cell for the rest of eternity if you keep trying to protect that whore of a friend of yours."
Valentine's teeth ground together, a low, guttural growl escaping him. With what strength he did have, fueled by a fierce, protective defiance, he spat a stream of blood directly into the demon's face.
Then, with a sudden, unexpected burst of adrenaline, he kicked the demon with the knife hard between the legs, a precise, agonizing blow that made the demon double over, gagging, and fall to the ground with a pained grunt.
"You fucking pest!" the demon on the ground snarled, wiping the spit and blood off his face in disgust, his features contorted with rage. He scrambled to his feet, grabbing Valentine's long, black, matted hair, holding his head tight, preventing any escape, and began punching him repeatedly, savagely, hard in the face.
Blow after brutal blow landed, each one rattling Valentine's teeth, blurring his vision, until the world went black. When the demon finally let go, Valentine's head fell limp to his chest, completely passed out, blood oozing freely from his mouth and nose, joining the dark stain seeping out from the stab wound on his chest.
The enraged demon stood over him, one hand still unconsciously covering his crotch, grabbing the bloody knife furiously, his eyes narrowed, aiming it directly towards Valentine's head for a final, lethal strike. The other demon, calmer, stopped him by grabbing his arm. "Don't waste your time... he'll be breaking very soon." The enraged demon nodded, a grudging acceptance in his eyes, and they made their way out of the cell door, their heavy footsteps echoing away, leaving behind a bloody, battered, but still defiantly alive Valentine.
*****
A few hours after their passionate night, Lily's eyes slowly fluttered open, adjusting to the soft morning light filtering through the scorched curtains. She saw Alexander lying right next to her, propped on an elbow, running his fingers gently through her hair, his bright blue eyes gazing into hers with a warm, possessive adoration.
"Did you watch me sleep?" she asked, a playful grin tugging at her lips as she raised an eyebrow at him, a hint of blush rising to her cheeks. She stretched her arms languidly above her head, her muscles pleasantly sore.
"I mean, I don't really need to sleep..." his voice trailed off, a soft murmur, as she sat up. The blanket, tangled around her lower body, fell to her waist, leaving her breasts on full, glorious display for him, her dark nipples already firm from his lingering gaze.
"So what I'm hearing is you watched me sleep most of the night," she teased, a mischievous glint in her eyes.
He chuckled, a low, rumbling sound, shrugging his broad shoulders. He leaned closer, rubbing his thumb over her hard nipple, eliciting a soft sigh from her as she instinctively licked her lips. "Maybe. I had a hard time pulling my eyes away."
She climbed out of bed, still grinning, and walked over to the bag Jinx had handed her, rummaging through it quickly. Her grin faltered as she remembered; she didn't have a change of clothes. Scratching her head, she turned, looking at him with a sheepish expression. "Well, I would love to take a shower but I have only a big shirt to change into and well, you saw the rest."
He sat up on the bed, stretching his arms above his head, his muscles flexing, a picture of relaxed strength.
His eyes look over her body, taking in every curve, every inch of bare skin. "Well, personally, I would love seeing you walk around in nothing all day, but that's not something I want everyone else to see." She laughs softly, a genuine, joyful sound. "I'll run out and pick you up some clothes after your shower. I already know your size so it should be easy. Just relax in the room in a big shirt till I get back."
It sounded like a perfect plan to her. She nods her head, walking towards the bathroom door. His eyes follow her every move. "Sounds fine. Well, I'm going to go take a shower now..." she paused, looking back over her shoulder at him, playing idly with a strand of her hair, her eyes sparkling. "I would love some company."
He hops off the bed, his movements fluid and eager, walking over to her. He picks her up bridal style, his strong arms easily supporting her weight. She lets out a little laugh, a melodic, happy sound. "Well, I would love to volunteer as tribute," he murmured, his voice husky, before carrying her into the bathroom, ready to take her to heaven all over again.
(Mia note: Poor Valentine I wanted check up on it seems like he's in a pickle....in the next chapter let's check up on how Lily mom is doing
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Miracle
Romansa***** Lily has always been a clumsy unlucky person all her life tripping over chords bumping into walls where a normal occurrence for her in her verily normal life but a traffic light falling on her head, was a whole new level of unluckyness who kne...
