Chapter 3 The prince of pride
The walk back from the throne room felt endless.
Lilith’s mind was still reeling, seven faces burned into her memory, seven voices promising different flavours of damnation. But worst of all was the weight of those burning red eyes, the Devil’s laughter echoing in her skull like a death sentence.
S registered the corridors they passed through, the impossible architecture, the shadows that watched them with hungry eyes. All she could focus on was Sera’s hand in hers, that single point of warmth and familiarity in this nightmare.
Then Malachi stopped at a fork in the corridor.
“The Seraph’s quarters are in the east wing,” he said, his silver eyes unreadable. “Your slave will be housed in the west wing with the other attendants.”
Lilith’s head snapped up. “No. She stays with me.”
“That’s not how this works.” Malachi’s voice was gentle but immovable. “You are the last Seraph, promised to one of the seven heirs. You will be treated as royalty. She,” his gaze shifted to Sera, “is a servant. A mortal. The separation is necessary.”
“I don’t care about necessary,”
“Lily.” Sera’s voice was quiet, resigned. “It’s okay.”
“It’s not okay.” Lilith whirled to face her friend, panic rising in her throat. “We stay together. That’s the rule. That’s always been the rule.”
Sera’s eyes were bright with unshed tears, but she smiled, that brave, stubborn smile that Lilith had loved since they were children. “New world, new rules.” She squeezed Lilith’s hand one last time. “I’ll be fine. You’ll be fine. We’ll see each other tomorrow.”
“Sera,”
But two maids had already appeared, gently taking Sera’s other arm. Her friend gave her one last look, be strong, before allowing herself to be led down the western corridor.
Lilith watched until Sera disappeared around a corner, and then she was alone.
Completely alone for the first time since arriving in Hell.
“This way, Your Highness.” Malachi’s voice cut through her despair.
She followed numbly, each step feeling heavier than the last.
The east wing was even more opulent than where she’d woken that morning. The corridors were lined with portraits of beautiful, terrible beings, past rulers, perhaps, or demons of legend. Chandeliers dripped with crystals that hummed with contained magic. Everything was designed to impress, to seduce, to remind her that she was no longer in the human world.
Finally, Malachi stopped before a set of double doors carved with symbols that looked like twisted flowers.
“Your quarters,” he said. “Everything you need has been provided. Dinner will be served in the grand hall in two hours. All seven heirs will be present.” His silver eyes met hers. “I suggest you rest. You’ll need your strength.”
Then he was gone, disappearing down the corridor like smoke.
Lilith pushed open the doors.
The suite beyond stole her breath.
It was enormous, larger than her entire bedroom chamber back home. A huge four-poster bed dominated the room, its presence unmistakable. Heavy silks, cool against the skin, drape from the frame, their colour shifting between pale silver and deep midnight blue. Two plush chairs in a small sitting area faced the fireplace across the room. The fire was the centrepiece: its flames burned in an unsettling, vibrant mix of sharp blue, intense green, and pure violet.
The entire room was defined by this sharp division between soft luxury and strange, vibrant light.
Floor-to-ceiling windows opened onto a balcony overlooking a landscape of impossible beauty: mountains that floated in the air, rivers of light flowing upward, and that perpetual twilight sky with its three moons.
Everything was designed to overwhelm. To remind her, she was somewhere beyond mortal comprehension.
She walked to the balcony, gripping the railing, trying to breathe through the pressure in her chest.
Six months. Seven princes. Choose one or watch reality collapse.
“Quite a view, isn’t it?”
Lilith spun, heart hammering.
Azrael stood in her doorway, having entered without knocking. He’d removed his cape, and in just the black leather and silk, he looked somehow more dangerous. More real.
“You can’t just walk in here,” Lilith said, hating how her voice shook.
“This is my father’s palace. I can walk wherever I please.” He closed the door behind him with a soft click that sounded far too final. “We need to talk.”
“I don’t want to talk to you.”
“Pity.” He moved deeper into the room with that predator’s grace, and Lilith found herself backing up until her spine hit the wall beside the balcony door. “Because we have several things to discuss.”
He stopped just shy of touching her, close enough that she could smell him, smoke and something spicy, something that made her head feel light.
“You defied me,” he said softly, his golden eyes burning into hers. “In front of my father. In front of my siblings. You told me you belonged to yourself.”
“I do belong to myself.”
“We’ll see how long that lasts.” He raised one hand, and Lilith tensed, but he only placed it on the wall beside her head, caging her in. “Do you know how long I’ve waited for you, Lilith?”
“I don’t care,”
“Nineteen years.” His voice dropped lower, more intimate. “Since the night you were born. Since the contract was written in your blood. I’ve known you were mine before you even knew you existed.” His other hand came up, fingers trailing along her jawline with shocking gentleness. “I’ve imagined this moment a thousand different ways.”
Lilith’s breath caught. His touch was fire and ice, wrong and right, terrifying and intoxicating all at once.
“Stop,” she whispered, but she didn’t push him away.
“Do you want me to stop?” His thumb brushed across her lower lip, and heat flooded through her body in a way she’d never experienced. “Your mouth says one thing. Your body says another.”
“You’re arrogant,” she managed, trying to hold onto her anger like a shield.
“I’m honest.” He leaned closer, his breath warm against her skin, his lips mere inches from hers. “The others will come for you. Lucian will try to seduce your mind. Cain will appeal to your warrior’s spirit. Mammon will offer you the world. Asmodeus will make you feel things you’ve never felt before.” His golden eyes held hers captive. “But I’m the only one who will never lie to you. I will have you, Lilith. By choice or by destiny.”
“That’s not a choice,” she breathed. “That’s a threat.”
“That’s a promise.” His hand slid from her jaw to cup the back of her neck, fingers tangling in her hair. “I don’t need six months. I already know how this ends. You’ll fight me. You’ll resist. You’ll tell yourself you have options.” His voice dropped to something dark and possessive. “But eventually, you’ll understand what I’ve always known. You were made for me.”
He was so close now. Close enough to kiss. Close enough that Lilith could feel the heat radiating from his body, could see the flecks of amber in his golden eyes, could count his heartbeats from the pulse in his throat.
She should push him away. Should scream. Should use whatever power was sleeping in her blood to blast him across the room.
But she couldn’t move.
Because part of her, a part she didn’t want to acknowledge, wanted him to close that final distance.
As if reading her thoughts, Azrael smiled. Slow and devastating.
“Not yet,” he murmured. “When I kiss you, little Seraph, it will be because you’re begging me to. Not because I stole it.” He released her, stepping back, and Lilith nearly collapsed without his presence holding her up. “But make no mistake, that day is coming.”
He moved toward the door, then paused, looking back at her. “Dinner in two hours. Wear something beautiful. The others will be trying to impress you.” His smile sharpened. “Though we both know you’ve already felt what none of them can offer.”
“And what’s that?” Lilith demanded, finding her voice.
“Inevitability.” His golden eyes burned into her one last time. “I’m not the best choice, Lilith. I’m not the kindest or the gentlest or the most charming. But I’m the only choice that was written in the stars before you drew your first breath.” He opened the door. “The sooner you accept that, the easier this becomes.”
Then he was gone, leaving only the scent of smoke and spice and the echo of his words.
Lilith stood there for a long moment, her legs shaking, her heart racing, her lips tingling where his thumb had touched them.
She raised trembling fingers to her mouth, hating herself for the warmth still spreading through her body and hating how her pulse had quickened at his proximity. Hating that part of her had wanted, needed, him to close that final distance and kiss her.
This is insane, she thought desperately. He’s a devil. A prince of Hell. He sees me as a possession.
But her body didn’t care about logic. Her body had responded to his touch as if it were made for it.
She limped to the balcony, gripping the railing, gulping the strange air of this alien world.
Somewhere in this impossible palace, Sera was alone and frightened.
Somewhere, six other princes were plotting their own approaches.
And somewhere deep inside her, something was waking up, something that had recognised Azrael on a level that transcended logic or reason or choice.
The prophecy called it destiny.
Lilith called it a curse.
But standing there with her lips still burning from his touch, she couldn’t deny the terrifying truth: Azrael had gotten under her skin in one conversation. One touch.
If he could do that in minutes, what would six months do to her?
She looked out at the three moons hanging in their impossible positions and whispered to the alien sky, “I belong to myself.”
But even as she said it, she felt the lie in the words.
Because part of her, a part growing stronger with every heartbeat, was already wondering what it would feel like when Azrael finally claimed that kiss.
When the inevitability came calling, she stopped fighting and surrendered to the pull she felt in her blood.
Six months, she thought desperately—six months to figure out how to resist him.
Six months to remember, she has a choice.
The wind carried his scent back to her, smoke and Sandalwood.
Despite everything, Lilith shivered.
She shivered, not from cold, but from the terrifying truth that part of her wanted him to.