Lilith Blair is a beautiful yet deadly creature⎯a demon⎯created by Death to become Queen of Hell. Only to abandon the darkness, she returns to find her past lover dead and becomes haunted by the blood on her hands.
Until almost 160 years later, she...
The familiar grey stone walls seemed cold somehow, as if they too had seen the tragedies of Hell. Numberous lush rugs had been placed along the hardwood, the dark oak bookshelves reaching the tall ceiling. A fireplace cracked inside a wall, a table of whiskey and glasses sitting beside it. The windows had been covered with velvet curtains, the flames illuminating the space. Chains, whips and bondages were displayed neatly on a long table in the center of the room.
I shivered.
It was cold in the room, a sensation I hadn't experienced in more than 150 years.
I was wearing my bra and panties, though a sheer black robe had replaced my clothes. I was on his bed, the silk sheets and thick fur blankets tossed to the side.
His scent clung to the air, to every object that sat in the room. It was dominant, a strong smell of smoke and teak. It was comforting yet was unable to soothe my fear. The familiarity was the worst feeling, a part of me relaxed and the other afraid.
"Don't be scared, little dove." His voice was a deep melody, smooth and seductive. Its dark notes wrapped around my heart and core, enticed by the sound.
I felt his presence behind me and I remained frozen.
I was his⎯a creation and its creator⎯bound together by their sins. I entered his kingdom willingly and was only able to leave if he allowed it.
I could be trapped here for eternity.
Camille.
I closed my eyes, unable to look at him as his finger lifted my chin. I felt the familiar muscle of his body brushing against my front.
"Open," he demanded.
I opened my eyes without hesitation.
His eyes were bright with lust and frusteration, his dark irises colliding with the dialation of his black pupils. He wore a black button up that was rolled up to his elbows, with slacks and polished shoes. A few of his black curls hung over his thick, furrowed brows as his full pink lips opened slightly.
His eyes drifted down to my body, his long eyelashes casting shadows under his eyes. He ran from my chin along my jawline, tracing the veins in my neck. His touch was light and gentle, like a feather's caress along my skin. He brushed his fingers along my collarbones and I sucked in a deep breath.
He met my gaze at the sound, seeming to snap him from the hypnotic touches.
"This is a punishment, Lilith."
I stiffened at the memory and his hands disappeared.
"It was never my intention to make you suffer, Lilith." He spoke softer now, touching the ring along the chain necklace.
"Your human may have the same body but her soul is her own. She is an imposter wearing your dead lover's face." he snarled.
His words were like knives tearing through my skin, a sharp sensation that left my chest heavy.
"My gift to you is a warning," he whispered gently, as if sensing my pain.
"Stay away from her, angel. I'd hate to see you hurt again." he murmured against my neck, his words almost sad.
Then all I felt was agony.
⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯
The heat of the flames was recognizable, a familiar torture that had haunted me for over a century.
"What's wrong with her?" a high-pitched female voice cried.
Camille.
My eyes opened to see Camille, Olivia and Sébastien standing over my body, which was currently sprawled across the tile floor of my apartment's kitchen. I was still wearing my bra and panties, though the robe had been pulled from my chest and hung loosely over my shoulders.
I stood quickly, pulling the thin fabric closer to my shaking body. The heat of her body left my skin, though the ache from her touch remained.
"Leave." I rasped.
I was desperate for them to leave. My last conversation with Camille was still engrained in my mind and I was unable to bring myself to meet her gaze. I had caught an image of her briefly, though the strong urge to look at her was unwavering.
Her auburn hair stuck to her flushed, tear-stained cheeks. Her eyes were bright pink and puffy, red-rimmed with emotion. She wore an olive green tank top and black sweatpants, which I easily recognized as my own.
Sébastien and Olivia hovered behind her, their expression mirror each other in horror and realization.
They knew where I was.
Camille, however, did not.
"You weren't picking up my calls and Sébastien had a bad feeling something had happened with you. Your door was left open and it looked like you were seizing," Olivia explained, her usual bright cheeriness devoid from her voice.
I looked at Sébastien.
The air around him was somber, as if he had walked back from a funeral. His head was tilted down slightly, his shoulders dropped and eyes barely lifted in my direction. He seemed lost, though his body and muscle remained unmoving.
"Fuck," I groaned, turning away and grabbing a bottle of scotch. I lit a cigarette, not bothering to step outside.
"I appreciate your concern, but I can assure you that I'm fine. You need to leave now," I seethed through my teeth.
They came in and saw me in such a vulnerable state, it was pitiful. A creature like me, writhing in pain as they watched me suffer. Their worries were shameful and unnecessary.
"Lilith." Sébastien snarled, his face now contorted in pain and anger. His canines sharpened as his dark green eyes swirled with fury.
My eyes narrowed, nostrils flaring as his rage crept in the room like a heavy fog.
"No." Olivia mouthed silently, looking pointedly at Camille's shaking frame.
She was afraid.
We were scaring her.
I was unaware my grip had been tightening over the bottle of whiskey until I heard the glass break. Shards of broken glass fell to the floor, though a large piece had lodged itself between the bones of my palm.
I pulled it out, watching as thick black liquid rivered down my fingers until my flesh closed and healed itself.
My blood.
A small whimper left Camille's lips.
Monster.
⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
