The Soul on Fire | Slow Updates

Chapter Fifteen

They appeared in a bedroom, landing safely beside the bed.

Armaita whipped her head around, taking in her new surroundings. Her heart was still pounding erratically in her chest from what she had witnessed.

The beautiful male that had kept her captive for, God only knows how many days now, had transformed into a hideous beast before her eyes. Of course, she had known he was evil for the things he did to her.

She had been snatched by that awful commander and forced into a cage that quelled her power – leaving her defenseless. Day after day, Beezlebub tortured her mercilessly. There were times when she preferred death to the unforgiving torment.

Her inner light had started to fade, and she knew it was only a matter of time before her soul was tainted and she would be corrupt. Between the physical and mental torture, she was exhausted. Her broken heart didn't help matters – making her even more susceptible to temptation as well as corruption.

The Devil certainly lived up to his name. He was ruthless and cold. His heart long dead and his soul twisted beyond recognition. Despite the fact that he was once an angel, she could not connect with him as she could with others of her kind. He was too far gone, and all her attempts to assuage him into letting her go failed miserably.

The darkness inside her was growing rapidly – desperate to snuff out her inner light for good. She fought against it with sheer will, but she was losing the battle.

How many trials had she failed?

She could barely remember.

Her mind was clouded now – life passing her by like some sort of terrible dream or twisted nightmare. Her thoughts were foggy. Even when she started thinking coherently, the train of thought would only last a few minutes before derailing completely.

She missed Asmodeus.

He rejected her, breaking her heart and leaving her broken.

She could hardly remember him now. His face escaped her memory. There were things she could recall, however.

His warmth, for instance. His body was always ten degrees hotter than hers. She supposed it had to be, since his soul was literally on fire. She remembered how smooth his skin was, except his hands. They were roughened by millennia of use.

Her eyes fluttered closed when large, warm hands stroked her arms up and down.

Mmm. This feels nice.

It was the one that rescued her. He was strong. Stronger than Satan if he managed to get her out unscathed. She opened her eyes and checked herself over. Aside from the old bruises on her body and tattered shreds of her dress, she was in good shape.

The man cupped her face and tilted it up toward his. Her breath hitched. He was gorgeous. His brows were furrowed, and his yellow irises were brilliant – shining brightly as he looked her over.

Her thighs clenched involuntarily as she struggled to keep her arousal at bay. He was so familiar to her. She wanted to curl into him and feel his strong body surround her. She rested her head against his chest, flinching when he tensed, and inhaled deeply.

His scent was masculine and powerful. She moaned and held him tighter. The male's arms slowly lowered around her and he formed a steel band around her waist.

She closed her eyes tightly when she felt the darkness push for control.

No, she thought to herself, not now.

Her fangs extended in her mouth until she was forced to part her lips, and her fingernails curled as they grew into serrated claws. She could feel her vision distorting as red bled into her irises.