The Fallen

Chapter 9

I couldn't breathe.

My throat was sore and as heavy as a boulder, my neck throbbing endlessly. Darkness loomed across the edges of my vision, shadows dancing around me menacingly. Voices came in and out of focus, my shattered brain too dazed to make sense of the words spoken above my head.
Somewhere far away, I could barely make out the delicate touches flitting all around my skin. Someone was cradling me in their arms, their hands caressing my shoulders, hair, chest. My back was nestled tightly against a firm chest, the repetitive rise and fall of their breath calming my frantic senses.

“She's going to be alright, Lucifer,” Someone said, their voice too far for me to catch.

Lucifer.

“What was she doing outside alone? I thought I told you to keep her safe.” The chest behind me rose again, this time shaking with every word.

Lucifer.

“I had to go back up to assess the situation.” The voice was clearer this time, firm and feminine in its barely concealed rage. Abbadon.

“My lord,” another person spoke, a voice I didn't recognise. “She's going to be alright. You found her in time.”

“She wasn't supposed to get hurt in the first place, Belial. She's supposed to be safe in hell. My domain.”

“Forgive me, my lord, but no one knows she's here. Any demon who might have stumbled upon her would have done the same.” A third person chimed in, slowly but surely pulling me out of the darkness that threatened to pull me under once more. “Maybe you should have introduced her to the dwellers of Hell upon arrival.”

The chest behind me shifted, a low growl shaking my back and shoulders as the grip around me tightened. “She still doesn't remember who she is. I can't interfere without her memories.”

My mind finally cleared enough for me to recognise the voice behind me. Samael sounded tense, on edge. His hands continued to caress my skin as he spoke, the feathers of his wings tickling my upper arms.

Lucifer.

That was what Abbadon called him when he was pummelling the demon who tried to kill me into a lump of shattered bones. Not Samael.

Lucifer.

The devil.

A tortured moan escaped my throat, the sound loud enough to stop the conversation taking place around me. Behind me, Lucifer stilled, his breath catching in his chest for a second before he moved me to face him. His eyes were back to their gorgeous gold, sparkling with barely restrained worry and fear. He cradled me against him again, resting my head on his shoulder as his wings circled us from either side. I glanced at his abdomen, a part of me wondered what happened to his wound. His skin was healed, not a trace of the cut that left him comatose for days.

“How are you feeling?” Lucifer whispered, his thumb caressing my cheek, his eyes that were trained on my neck holding a tinge of anger.

I swallowed, wincing visibly at the pain in my throat. There was shuffling behind me, before a tall glass of water hovered in front of my face. Abbadon smiled as she handed me the glass, helping me drink a few sips. Immediately, the burning in my throat dulled to a faint itch, and I cleared it a few times. Looking anywhere but at the fallen angel holding me, I stared at the two new faces, wondering who they might be.

“Hello, Sienna.” One of them took a step toward me, a faint smile on his face. “I am Belial, a Prince of Hell.”

I blinked, taking in the giant Prince in front of me. He was at least 6’4, with muscular arms and thick legs. His tight breeches left nothing to the imagination, his bare torso defined with a six pack stretching his dark skin. Black horns sat at the edges of his forehead, twisting into sharp, menacing weapons. But despite his huge build and frightening looks, Belial, like Abbadon, did their best to appear friendly and non-threatening.
The other person behind him stared at me unabashedly, his eyes racking over my entire body to finally land on my face. The look in his eyes wasn't perverse, or even scary, and yet it still managed to make me feel uneasy. He looked more like Lucifer than Belial, tanned skin peeking from behind his dress shirt, long legs clad in black pants, and no horns in sight. “I'm Azazel,” he said, his eyes flitting to Lucifer before they landed back on me. “How are you feeling?”