The Soul on Fire | Slow Updates

Chapter Ten

His eyes rolled shut and he groaned, kissing her harder and mastering her mouth with his. He was ready to fulfill her request and so much more. She confessed that she loved him and even though he had needed the avowal to move forward with his plan, it had truly moved him.

He felt every bit the same about her, but he couldn't disclose that just yet. Not until she was safe, and the Devil was dealt with. Not until he was sure that the crown he bore didn't fall on the wrong head.

He kissed her passionately now, drinking from her like a parched man – needing her as badly as he needed the air in his lungs. She had unconsciously called him out on what he planned to do and admitted that she feared having her heart broken by him.

Damn, he hated himself right now. He couldn't even bring himself to lie to her. He wanted to promise that he would never do such a thing to her, but it would have been false. It was exactly what he needed to do in order for his plan to succeed.

All he could do was tell her that it was the last thing he wanted to do to her. That much was true. He had meant it when he said he wanted to cherish her – that she deserved that. He wished he could be the one to give it to her. More than anything he wanted to make her happy.

But he was the King of Demons, Ruler of Hell, and Demon of Lust. He had a duty and a responsibility to fill it. He had a kingdom to protect from the rule of someone far eviler and twisted than he was. A man in his position couldn't afford to be vulnerable, and that's exactly what she did to him.

She was his weakness. Lucifer and Beezlebub had already figured that much out. His own safety was never at risk, for an immortal king was nearly untouchable, but it put the woman he adored in grave danger. She was not immune to death, though she was immortal. She could still be killed – her inferior rank in Heaven made sure of that.

She was dispensable to them. Replaceable.

But not to Asmodeus. She had tunneled her way into his heart and quickly became the center of his world. If losing her was the only way he could ensure her safety, so be it. He would willingly sacrifice his own happiness for a guarantee that she would live.

Her lips trembled against his, her tongue seeking his. Her inexperience showed in their kiss – her movements choppy and clumsy. He found them charming, all the same. Her innocence was beautiful – reminding him of what a pure creature she was.

She was light and goodness. He was darkness and corruption. She deserved someone better than him. Yet, the thought of her loving another male left an acrid taste in his mouth.

She was his.

He pushed the skirt of her dress up and over her thighs, letting it fall and pile up around her waist. She wore white lace panties beneath. His right hand stroked the inside of her thigh and slowly inched toward her warm center. He palmed her vulva over the thin fabric of her underwear, feeling the patch of dark curls that resided on her soft mound.

He stroked the crotch of her panties and moaned when he discovered that her desire had drenched through the skimpy material. Digging his claws into the waist of her undergarments, he sliced them open and revealed her glistening folds.

It was the first time his hands ever touched this sacred part of her. She was beautiful. He sat back on his hooves and took in the sight of her. She lay before him, her knees bent, and legs spread wide, perky tits bared to him and pink nipples taut.

Her eyes were lidded, cheeks flushed, and lips parted as she breathed heavily. She rested her hands palms-up on either side of her face and he watched the rise and fall of her chest as she tried to process the strong emotions that coursed through her.