Broken Toys (A Robo Fizz Romance) (18+)

Chapter Twenty-Seven: The L Word

Silence, so thick and pregnant that a cough would have sounded like an explosion settled over the devastated room. Mammon stared with wide eyes down at the weeping demon girl. 'Freedom...' she'd begged, as he had literally been choking her with chains, with his own energy, his very essence. Fuck... It should have been hot to him. It should have felt empowering. It should have felt anything but shameful, and it definitely shouldn't have hurt the way it did. Yet, his cruel soul burned under the weight of the guilt that seeped into him.

What had he been expecting? For her to fall head over heels for him because of his reputation and position? Had he truly become so materialistic that he'd lost sight of what truly drove others? The machinations of the heart that allowed him to force others to dance like obedient marionettes to his whims? Did she ever look at Fizzarolli, that damned robot clone, or even that brain-dead firefly like this, with nothing behind her dark eyes except primal terror? Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck--

"FUCK!!!"

With a demonic roar, he ripped his chains back from her, shattering them into glittering gold specks that flew out in all directions. Samara fell forward onto the carpet, panting and clutching her throat. Mammon fell back onto his ass across from her, breathing heavily, utterly embroiled in an internal war.

Samara finally regained her motor skills and scooted away from him immediately after, until her bare back hit the shredded wallpaper that sported both of their claw marks. She trembled so violently that the paintings rattled.

After many moments, Mammon spoke again, in a quiet and calm voice. If one listened carefully, though, they could sense the despair and anguish painted in paper thin strokes over his tone.

"Why do you even want to find your evil twin after all this time? You haven't asked in the years you've been with me. And, you know that I of all the denizens of Hell must be the one to know. After all, I found you with no trouble at all, didn't I?"

Samara yanked at her tail between her hands, her ever-present nervous habit. She took a shaky breath before answering, too tired from fear and sex to tell anything but the absolute truth.

"I want to kill her. I didn't ask before now because frankly I forgot about her in the wake of my other responsibilities with you. Seeing Damien again reminded me, and so I want to kill her, as soon as possible."

The most maniacal cackling poured from Mammon's mouth, and he smacked the floor again in his mirth, wiping a tear from his eye.

"Oh, my dear. You are anything but boring, that's for certain! I will never lack for entertainment of all sorts with you around. Our sweet, innocent Samara, who by all accounts should have been welcomed right into the pearly gates with her pure heart. That fallen angel wants to murder her sister? For a second time? She can't get much deader than she already is, you know!"

Her head snapped up from where she'd cast her gaze to the floor, and her eyes met his. A fierce, fiery rage with flames that chilled danced behind the ebony orbs, and she whispered "Oh yes she can, sir, if I use a heavenly weapon."

Now this was an interesting development. There was nothing in this place that Samara feared, that held her more in line than the threat of nonexistence. It was something he had been certain that the kind-hearted demon girl wouldn't wish upon her worst enemy. It appeared he had misjudged her. This cutthroat Samara was a tempting morsel indeed. He liked this side of her. He really liked it.

"And what if I hire her and have her take your place by my side?" He tapped his chin thoughtfully, testing her.

Her teeth ground, so loudly that he could hear it.