Chapter 77 Chapter 77
Chapter 77 Chapter 77
The creak turns into heavy footsteps echoing down the corridor, but I do not wait. My rage is a live wire, crackling through my veins, demanding I tear this holy shithole apart before that feathered bastard shows his face. I snatch up a golden candelabra from the altar, its flames sputtering like Michael's pathetic hopes, and hurl it at the wall. Metal twists and bends on impact, wax splattering hot across the marble, sizzling where it hits the spilled holy water.
“Fuck your light,” I roar, my voice raw, cock throbbing harder against my jeans as destruction feeds the fire in my gut.
I grab a relic next—a carved ivory wing, symbolizing some bullshit angelic ascent—and smash it under my boot, grinding the pieces into dust. Shards bite into my sole, but the pain just sharpens the edge, makes my balls ache with that twisted need to dominate, to fuck the ruin into something mine.
I pivot to the altar's center, eyes locked on the massive leather bound tome of religious scriptures in what looks like dragon hide—ironic for a heaven prick. My fingers dig into the cover, ripping pages free in fistfuls, scattering scriptures like confetti at a demon's orgy. The words burn my skin on contact, divine judgment trying to sear my fallen ass, but I laugh, low and guttural, shoving the book into the pooling holy water. It hisses and smokes, pages curling black. My muscles bulge, sweat trickling down my back, soaking my shirt to my skin, nipples peaked and sensitive from the adrenaline rush. Every smash sends a jolt straight to my dick, imagining Michael's face when he sees his precious shrine reduced to rubble—me pinning him down amid the debris, forcing my cock down his throat until he chokes on his own arrogance.
Just as I snatch a flickering candle, wick dripping wax like cum, ready to torch that goddamn painting of my old self, the air splits with a rush of wind. Feathers rustle, and there he is—Michael, materializing in a blaze of white light that stings my eyes. His wings fold tight, golden eyes widening at the chaos, the smashed relics, the desecrated altar. He startles, mouth opening in a gasp, but then his gaze locks on me, and a sick smile curls his lips, all possessive hunger. He steps forward, ignoring the crunch of debris under his pristine boots.
“Apollyon,” he breathes, voice like velvet over steel, laced with that obsessive madness. He takes a step towards me. “You returned. My love, you have finally come back to me.”
I step back, disgust twisting my gut, my hand tightening around the candle until wax burns my palm. The name—Apollyon—hits like a slap, dragging up memories of his hands on me, unwanted, during those council 'discussions' where he had cornered me, his breath hot, promising eternity while I fought the urge to gut him.
“Do not fucking call me that,” I snarl, voice ice-cold, dropping the candle to the floor where it rolls, flame licking at the tapestry remnants. “I did not return to you, you delusional fuck. I came here to reclaim my woman—Adrianna. The one you chained up like a goddamn trophy. If you had not taken her, I would have never come back to this wretched place.”
Michael's smile falters, eyes darting around the room, searching the shadows where she was bound. Realization dawns, shock rippling across his perfect features, wings twitching like he is about to bolt.
“Adrianna? Where is she?” he demands, voice rising, stepping closer, arrogance cracking into fury.
Tension coils thick in the air, his power humming, pressing against my skin like an unwanted touch. I can smell him—incense and ozone, mixed with the faint rot of his unhinged soul. My cock twitches involuntarily, rage blending with the dark pull of our history, but I shove it down, fists clenching.
“Gone,” I spit, advancing a step, muscles rippling under my shirt. “Levi took her. And you? You are done playing god with what is mine. How did you even come to know about her?”
He ignores my question about how he knew of her, how he sniffed out our bond after all these millennia. Instead, his eyes narrow, that twisted love flaring back.
“I thought...since you have a woman that you and Leviathan were no longer together. And now you could come back to the heavens. To me. I have never given up, Apollyon. Trying to free you from his persuasion, his filthy hold.” His voice drips with false pity, wings half-unfurling, casting shadows that dance over the wreckage.
“Free me?” I yell, laughter bitter and sharp, stepping into his space, chest heaving. “There is nothing to free me from, you obsessed prick! Levi is in my blood, my soul—fucking deeper than your creepy fantasies ever reached.”
The soul bond pulses then, a hot throb in my core, echoing Levi's presence, Adrianna's distant fire. It fuels me, makes my skin tingle, dick straining painfully now, pre-cum leaking as vengeance mixes with lust.
Before Michael can retort, the air warps behind him—demonic shadows coiling like smoke. Levi materializes silent as death, his burning eyes fixed on Michael's back. He leans in close, breath ghosting the arch-angel's neck, voice a low, possessive whisper that sends shivers down my spine.
“Apollo was never yours, feather-fuck. He always has been, and always will be, mine.”
Michael's eyes widen in shock, but Levi is faster—his hand snaps out, slamming an iron demonic collar around the bastard's throat. The metal glows red-hot, runes etching into skin, suppressing Michael's power in a surge of hellfire. He gasps, wings flailing, knees buckling as divine strength drains, body going limp against Levi's chest.
I watch, breath ragged, the sight igniting something feral in me—Levi's dominance, Michael's submission. My cock aches, balls tight, imagining us both taking him, revenge raw and unrelenting. But we are not done. Michael is choking now, eyes pleading, but the fight is just starting. Levi meets my gaze over his shoulder, a dark promise in those hellish eyes, soul bond thrumming with shared hunger. We will break him. Lucifer will fuck the madness out or rip it free—whatever it takes.