Hell's Prisoner
Prelude- On The Circle's Clave Forum
I approach the dark warehouse, seemingly abandoned. The windows were blown out, the walls dilapidated and rotting but I found the door around back. I nudged it open with the toe of my boot before slipping inside the dark interior. I pull out my witchlight stone along with a seraph blade. My stone flares to life, dim, fitting my needs. It illuminates an empty husk, metal beams crisscrossing the ceiling that was collapsed in some places. The open metal platform in the center of the warehouse was empty, not a thing in sight. Without a word, I move forward, my blade brandished.
I nearly jump as I hear a deep, masculine voice, very unlike that of a demon, or any lowly demon, one not in possession of the kind of power to disguise even its voice. "Well, those two fledglings actually managed to bring me a Shadowhunter." I spin, searching for the source of the voice only to find shadow and darkness. I hear the doors around the warehouse slam shut, no doubt locked, trapping me in.
"Show yourself coward," I hiss, eyes frantically searching for the voice's owner.
I hear a dark chuckle. "Now there's no need to be calling names. For a beautiful woman like you, that's very impolite." The voice seems to come from every direction of the barely lit warehouse, visibility getting lower by the minute as the sun outside sank lower and lower.
"Yes, well, hiding the shadows is rude as well," I reply, backing into the middle of the warehouse where I had the best visibility.
"I suppose that's true," I hear the voice say as the sounds narrowed down to one emerging shadow. The tall figure of a man emerged from the depths of darkness. His pitch black hair was neatly styled, an immaculate suit covering his broad chest and shoulders. His eyes were pitch black as well, reminding me briefly of my son's pitch eyes but I shake the thought from my head, Jonah is nothing like these monsters.
"I suppose, since we'll be spending some time together, introductions are in order. Of course I already know who you are, despite your hidden trademark flame hair, Jocelyn Morgenstern, but I am Abraxas, one of the Princes of Hell."
The demon prince must clearly be able to see my dread and horror, for he smiled knowingly, his smile too perfect, too white.
I take a shocked step back. A Prince of Hell? For a blood calling in New York? I shiver, unconsciously, maybe I had a chance of taking him down. That or I was stupid enough to wander into a trap and get myself made a sacrifice of.
"Oh, come now, don't be so frightened little Shadowhunter. Your death will be of great importance and glory. Used to open the gates of Hell, my domain," the demon said smoothly.
"And why would I want to help you open the gates of hell?" I ask, trying to steady myself, find an escape route, or a way to kill this Prince, even if it meant my own death.
The prince grimaces, I suppose one of angelic alliance would not be too pleased in helping a Prince of Hell would they?" He asked in self-mockery. He was laughing at himself, like we were having a civilized conversation. "Well, that's a pity, I'll just have to force you. Though you are not one of the children born and infused with Ithuriel's blood, you are the mother of one, had it fed to you as well. You will do."
Then the Prince of Hell, Abraxas, darted forward, leaping for my body.
It took me a moment to analyze that a prince of hell had leaped for me but I sidestepped at the last moment. Despite this, he shot out an arm, taking me down to the floor with him anyway. I grunted as I was slammed to the hard concrete, my head spinning with the impact. I swiped blindly with a blade. I knew I hit something when he hissed a curse in a language I had no desire of knowing. I pushed aside the spinning in my head to climb to my feet. The prince was already on his feet, touching fingers to a thin cut in the chest of his suit.
"That wasn't very courteous of you Jocelyn, you ruined my suit."
"Yes," I breathed, still trying to regain my proper balance. "I suppose I did."
The next few minutes were a blur of blood and blade and talon. Pain slashing at my mind, my body as cries and shouts were torn from Abraxas. I managed to wear him down if only a little, but at great cost to myself. As I paused a moment, my adrenaline high and pumping, I saw little trickles of blood running form my gear and almost every bit of exposed skin. My left wrist hurt and I guess it fractured somewhere in the battle. Abraxas, who had the similar idea of pausing, wasn't much better, I'd done him some damage. The entire coat and shirt of his suit were gone, exposing a muscled chest with black, burning blood oozing down the skin from a multitude of deep and shallow gashes.
"I had not expected you to last this long, even for a Morgenstern but a woman nonetheless," Abraxas said, as though addressing an opponent in a backyard duel, friendly and open.
"I am one hell of a woman, so said one of your Greater Demon buddies as I pinned him down and killed him," I bit out, hissing in pain as I realized my ribs were burning. Broken and or bruised. Wonderful.
"So you are, it seems almost a pity to kill you, but what would I do with you if you lived?" The prince seemed to ponder this a moment, absently wiping at his wounds as if they were nothing more than scrapes. "I have been lonely for some centuries, and you are a woman befitting a lord, a prince. A king even. I would have pleasure in seeing you as mine. Maybe we could work out some kind of deal and I would spare you," the demon offered.
I shuddered in revulsion. "Thanks," I say, hefting my blade again. "But I'm already married to a king," I say, diving forward to slash at the demon's chest.
Abraxas reached up and caught my blade in his hand, holding me frozen and close to him before swatting the blade aside as though it were nothing more than a nuisance, a fly buzzing around his head. The hand having discarded my blade took my wrist, his other hand closing around my throat, not enough to cut off my air though.
"I grow weary of your games little Shadowhunter. Do you wish to work out an agreement with me? Or do I take what I want? Damning the consequences," he said, his voice disgustingly civil, as if I hadn't spent the past ten minutes trying to kill him and we weren't both bleeding profusely.
The proximity to his black blood itched my skin, making me squirm but his hand tightened around my throat.
"You would only find some other Shadowhunter to sacrifice," I grit, slowly working my hand down to my weapon's belt.
The prince shrugged, his face an amiable mask. "True, but if you accepted my proposal, I would not only spare you but your daughter and sons."
I almost said yes, just to spare my family but I didn't know what the demon would do after the gates were open, if they would even be able to live in a demon infested world. And not to mention the Shadowhunter, the Angel Baby, one of my surrogate babies, that would be sacrificed. If I agreed, then the path to this blood calling and all its consequences would be cleared to wreak havoc on my family.
"I decline," I spit, my eyes blazing as my hand reaches my other blade.
"Then I shall take what I want," the prince said, no inflection touching his voice whatsoever, even as I pulled my blade and drove it through his chest. The prince dropped me, sputtering and coughing to the floor. I scrambled away as the prince looked down at his chest, the blade protruding from it, with disapproval. He gripped the handle, slowly pulling it out and sending it clattering away, causing a new flow of black blood to spill down his chest. "I shall have to punish you for that Jocelyn."
"Like hell," I hiss and sweep my legs under his, taking him down to the ground.
I pin the prince to the floor, knotting his enormous strength is at least a little weakened by my ministrations. I draw out a dagger and plunge it into his throat, unable to cut through with the strength of a full blade. The prince frowns below me, pulling the blade out again like its nothing more than a thorn or tooth pick. He dropped the dagger carelessly to the side. As I went to grab for it, he rolled, pushing me under him so I now lay pinned beneath him.
"And punish you for that as well," he crooned, dragging two, blood drenched fingers down my cheek in a mockery of a caress. My stomach rebelled.
"Go to hell," I hiss, trying to worm out from under him but he's too heavy and I've lost too much blood.
"Mmm, not quite yet, love. But soon." That was the last thing I heard before my world went black.
Rated M
Warnings:
-Rape
-Lewd language
-Abuse
Chapter 1
I woke up breathless, aching everywhere and blinded. I couldn't see anything, couldn't hear anything as I tried to move. My hands were brought up short by leather cuffs binding my wrists. I let out a soft moan of pain, trying to shift, at least get a feel of where I was. Soft silk lay beneath me and my stomach heaved in revulsion.
I kept my breathing calm, determined not to panic. What had I gotten myself into? I tugged against the leather cuffs, finding my gear still in place away and my marred, bruised skin throbbing. I bit my lip, grimacing at the pain lacing my body. I blinked hard as the blindfold was pulled from my eyes, letting soft light filter into my vision.
"Good evening, little Shadowhunter," I heard from the damned lips of Abraxas, Prince of Hell.
My hands closed over the chain attached to the leather cuffs, binding me to the large, plantation bed as I watched the dark, accursed Prince of Hell loom over me. I tried to pull myself up, my eyes never leaving the Prince's personal, black pits of hell but pain shot through my body, slamming it back down to the bed.
The demon prince's smile was one of deceptive beauty, drawing unknowing little doe into the bloodthirsty maws of a cougar. I sneered at him, attempting to move but my body felt like lead; bloody, broken lead. He chuckled darkly, his molten, obsidian eyes wandering over my face lazily.
"I suppose you are in pain, little Shadowhunter, from your struggle against me. What is it you angels use to heal yourselves? Runes?"
I remain silent, gritting my way through the pain as I stare him down, refusing to be forced into submission only because I am bound… to a bed in a Prince of Hell's bedroom. The shudder that wracks my body pulls a groan from my lips, widening the smirk on the demon's.
"I could heal you," the demon pondered, speaking to himself more than to me. His pitch hair fell in his matching eyes, over his perfectly arched eyebrows when he shook his head. "No, I have a much better idea in mind."
I drew in a shallow breath as I watched the demon draw his suit coat from his shoulders, unbutton his immaculate shirt to reveal flawless, unmarred skin whereas the last I saw of it, it was ridden with gouges and wounds. I used my legs, sore though they were, to push myself back on the bed, away from the demon.
I closed my eyes, thinking of a way to get out of this, before the inevitable happened. I had to get back to Roxanne and J.R., to my husband. I had to tell them what I'd learned and I couldn't let Abraxas get ahold of any of my children, surrogate or otherwise. I shuddered horribly as I felt the demon unclipping the buckles on my gear. My muscles drew impossibly taut, my stomach almost rebelling as I felt the demon's fingers sliding under my gear, grazing over the ragged, cut skin.
I tried to sink into the bed to escape the searching fingers but they only followed me as I tried to retreat. My breath caught in my throat as I felt cool talons form on the demon's fingers, brushing my skin.
"So many layers of protection, little Shadowhunter," he purred, piercing the fabric of my shirt beneath my gear and tearing it from my torso, revealing my dark bra. I tried to keep my eyes shut, to shut out the horror of what was coming next. I felt horribly useless, unable to even break from leather cuffs, laying helpless and vulnerable beneath a Prince of Hell.
"And all for naught, pretty little angel," he whispered and I felt his leg swing over my body, kneeling over me. I still couldn't bear to open my eyes and face what was happening, face my own weakness and vulnerability. If I couldn't even stop the Prince of Hell from taking me, how could I stop him from kidnapping my daughter, my sons, and killing them for his Portal, for his blood calling? How could I stop him from unleashing a horde of bloodthirsty demons upon the world?
"But I'll make the most of it," he said, pulling the tattered, ripped shirt from my body. I hissed as the cool air hit my wounds, crying out as my eyes shot open at the feel of a hot tongue, lapping up the running blood.
"Stop," I breathed, using all the strength I could muster to try and kick the prince away from him, to get his horrid, warm tongue from my wounds. But my protests were cut short as his hand closed around my throat.
"Oh hush now," he crooned, thumb stroking over my pulse. "Struggling against me will only make it worse, little Shadowhunter." I watched as he bent over me. I cried out once more as he licked a ruby red trail trickling from a long slash in my ribs. I jerked against the chains, feeling pathetic as I whimpered in pain, tears building in my eyes as he brushed my bruised ribs.
"I can make it better, my warrior woman."
I growled and thrashed, kicking a knee into his chest. I only received a hard slap across my cheek. He took my chin in his hand, forcing me to look at him. I choked on an angry sob, my cheek beginning to ache.
"Fierce and fiery," he said, his voice without inflection, smooth and ever satisfied as he smirked down at me. Like I was his personal prize, a tiger he was determined to tame. "We shall have to teach you some rules."
He snapped his fingers and my legs dropped to the bed, dead weights, useless. My eyes widened. He'd taken away the use of my legs, pinned me down like I was nothing more than a child. Valentine had always done all kinds of kinky things in the bedroom, bondages, silks ties, blindfolds and gags but never had we ever fully constricted each other.
It was always because neither of us could take feeling useless, it drove both of us nearly mad to remain useless, the same trait that we'd passed on to Roxanne. So it tore at my self-worth to have my legs dead weights. His fingers were still closed around my jaw before they tightened fractionally.
"First rule little Shadowhunter, you will obey me but never lose that brilliant fire," he said, a smirk of satisfaction crossing his lips. "I love playing with fire."
Abraxas released my chin, letting me fall to the bed as he pressed his lips to my stomach. He cleaned all the blood, dry and fresh, from my skin, eliciting several moans of pain in the process. He seemed to enjoy the pain he caused, scraping his teeth over the open wounds but what surprised me was when he ran a finger over the cuts, sealing them off so they no longer bled and the pain diminished.
I could feel his elongated fangs scraping across my skin, sending shivers over my body. I cringed as he came upon my bra, drew his sharpened teeth over the swell of my breasts. I felt violated already, not even having my pants removed I felt violated to my deepest core. It was wrong, to have a demon touch one of angelic alliance in such an intimate way, even if it was against one's wishes.
It was a besmirching of my dignity, the dignity of the heavens. A personal insult to the angels themselves. And for the demon, rhapsodies, a dark victory in having dragged one of the blessed down to stain their bodies, their very souls. My body, my soul, my mind. I let the scream come as his fangs sank into the curve of my breast his tongue caressing soft skin even as he drew blood into his mouth. I felt even more of my strength leave me with my blood, blood I couldn't afford to lose after the grave injuries that the prince had bestowed and now healed.
My ribs still ached, though I suspected Abraxas had left the pain as a deterrent to my protests, and with his sick mind, a captivation. Something to please his dark, nonexistent soul. His fangs still in me, his hands crept up, releasing the catch on my bra, spilling my breasts forward to his searching gaze. A strangled cry escaped my lips as Abraxas withdrew his fangs, letting twin trails of ruby liquid trickle down the valley of my breasts.
I was shaking, shivering with revulsion, shame, fear but most of all anger. At myself. How could I have let myself be captured? Let myself be torn away from my family and thrown into a hellish prison? How could I have been so ignorant and lame as to allow myself to be bound on a bed and violated, by a demon, a prince of hell no less? Some of my pain gone, restoring some lost energy, I pulled at the chain securing the leather cuffs to the ornate, cruel iron head board.
The prince sat up, kneeling over me with a small stream of my blood dripping down from the corner of his satisfied smile. If he weren't a demon I would say he was handsome, his regal features befitting his station of prince. His hard jaw line spoke of pure masculinity and his perfect pitch hair was slightly askew now that he had indulged himself in my blood. His chest was perfectly sculpted, less muscled than Valentine's, lither than him but beautiful all the same. And his matching eyes were ones an unsuspecting woman could drown in, one that hid secrets and cunning, ones that hid his darker, twisted nature. He may have been a demon prince but I wasn't stupid, his disguise was a handsome one.
Abraxas smirked and I realized I was staring. "Admiring my human body?" He looked down at himself, his powerful body hovering over my useless, motionless one. My flat stomach visibly quivered at his proximity. I watched as he slowly wiped my blood from his lip with the pad of his thumb, bringing it to his lips to lick clean, still staring at himself. "I did a rather good job creating this body. It's one of my more… accomplished ones. I can choose to appear as anything but I've used this body so much that I naturally revert to it."
He sucked on the pad of his thumb once more before closing his eyes in rapture. "You have no idea how long it has been since I've tasted an angel's blood. Absolute perfection. Though yours has a little more kick to it, a little more spice." His voice was like hot water, running smoothly over my skin but burning the nerves as it went. He bent down, lapping at the pool of blood that had collected on my chest from the two pinpricks he'd left. I couldn't stand to look at the demon any longer, so I turned my eyes away, focusing on the far wall, painted a soft, glowing tan.
His next words were murmured against my chest. "I suppose it is because you carried both a demon child as well as an angel child. You were the vessel for both sides of the same coin, were fed both kinds of blood, holy and unholy, and some of it lingers in you, giving you abilities beyond your comprehension. Not as pronounced as your children, but still there. I'm glad I'm the one who found you, took you, instead of that bumbling oaf you battled the other night, Erinyes."
He sighed against my bare chest before rising once more and running the backs of his fingers down my cheek.
"I was once worshipped as the Supreme Deity by the Gnostics," he said suddenly, musing. "Back then I had the head of a king, an abhorrent dragon's tail and atrocious cock's feet. I didn't know what I was thinking back then, it was horrible look but the Greeks knew where true power lay."
His fingers followed the line of my throat, making me swallow convulsively. "I had another name as well, Iao, which meant in Egyptian 'bow down and adore.' I rather enjoyed that era of history, having the entirety of the Egyptian Empire groveling at my feet. The Greeks and Egyptians were both very adoring fools. They believed, because my name in numerology summed up to 365 with seven letters that I had the power of all 365 heavens and all seven of the creative powers."
His fingers continued from my throat to my chest, brushing the swell of my breasts before moving lower over my quivering stomach.
"I was, and still am one of the most powerful Princes of Hell you shall ever meet little Shadowhunter, and you had the pleasure of being chosen to be my queen, my heir bearer."
I turned to him, hatred blazing in my eyes even though fear flooded my veins as his fingers reached the button on my pants. "It certainly gives me no pleasure being in your unholy presence, demon. And it won't ever amount to anything more than an unholy violation of my time and breath," I snap, tugging incessantly at the cuffs, causing my fractured wrist to ache and scream in pain.
His only reaction was a curt laugh, lifting his shoulders before he lengthened one of his talons. My stomach muscles clenched, causing a horrible ache to seep through me as he slashed the button off my pants, grazing my stomach. I jerk as the talon scratches a thin red burn right above the band of my matching black panties.
I couldn't breathe as the demon prince tugged off my pants, baring my useless legs. Could only hear my heart pounding in my ears as the demon removed his own slacks, baring a considerable package. My eyes shy away as he lowered himself over me, his body scorching hot, practically burning my skin off. My heart felt as though it would blow out of my chest as his narrow hips settled between my legs.
His fingers parted my thighs with ease, his hands resting on the inside of my thighs. I gathered enough courage to look down my body at him, finding his eyes trained on the black panties blocking him from what he wanted. His fingernails lengthened once more into talons in the blink of an eye, slashing through my underwear. I screamed as they brushed too close to my core, jerking away as the tips nearly scraped my sensitive skin.
"Oh shush," the prince chided, looking satisfactorily over my now completely exposed body. My anger drained away slowly, in face of what Abraxas was going to do. He truly was going to violate me, debase me and stain my soul with his ungodliness. My chest contracted as he lowered himself over me.
I could feel him there, pressing tightly, fully erect, fully male. If a demon could be male. I began shaking my head frantically, pulling on the cuffs, desperately trying to move my legs. His hands closed around my hips, pinning me to the bed as his body invaded mine, stretching it, forcing his way in until he was buried to the hilt. I began screaming then, as loud as my voice would allow me.
Abraxas seemed to revel in the sound as he began to slowly stroke in and out of me. I hated the feel of tears streaking down my cheeks, clogging my throat but what I despised was when my body began reacting to his, building a slow flame in the pit of my stomach, taken straight from the black fires of hell surrounding me. Soon my screams turned to moans.
Abraxas kissed my stomach, drawing at the bloody, marred skin until I had to whimper for him to stop. It seemed the only way he would. I knew in the back of my mind—as my body went up in flames—that he was using pain and pleasure to condition me, train me to what he liked and wanted. Every time his teeth cut me, he would go deeper until I'd whimper for his halting.
I moaned as he went faster, his hips pressing against mine with fiery heat, his body sliding in mine. I was lost in the feel of a hard masculine body taking mine, but it was no Valentine. My husband. How was I ever going to let him touch me after this? After being unable to defend myself, being touched and violated and dirtied, how could I let even a friendly hand touch my skin? I don't think I would ever be able to look someone in the eye either. After being touched by a demon, stained by a demon.
The devastation washed over me, crushing me against the bed as Abraxas slid against me. He kissed his way up my chest, his hot mouth closing over my taut nipple. I moaned, long and low, as he massaged my breast with his mouth. I didn't realize that he had released my legs from whatever spell they were under, nor that they had wrapped themselves around Abraxas's waist.
I let a breathless sigh escape, my head going back of its own accord as his tongue flattened against my nipple and dragged a long, satisfying lick over the skin. I let out a cry of ecstasy and pain, surprise, as his fangs elongate and sink into the swell of my breast once more at the same time, he slammed into me, all the way to the hilt.
He took his time withdrawing more of my blood, weakening my body. My eyes fluttered closed even as his body caressed mine, surprisingly gentle for a demon. From what I knew of Abraxas, he was one of the demons with more finesse, cunning, intelligence. And I thought I was lucky at least, to not be torn up down there as well as my mind and body. It was a horrible fate, but one that could have been much, much worse.
I didn't know when my body completely let go of its rigidness and accepted the Prince of Hell but when I finally came back from my horror entrenched mind, I found myself, my body, welcoming the demon's, my hips rising to meet his, sounds that only Valentine had ever elicited echoing in the room. I felt black dirt clawing its way over my skin, consuming my body and any sane thought.
Abraxas withdrew his fangs from my skin, scraping them up, up, up to my throat, hot tongue stroking my jaw until he finally took my lips. To my absolute surprise and devastation, his lips were soft and skilled, his tongue tracing my lower lip gently until he parted my lips and claimed my mouth. His hips never stopped moving, beginning to feel torturously slow, I was beginning to crave the next stroke, the next touch and it tore my mind apart.
I moaned softly as his lips slid over mine, unbelievably masterful as he pushed me back into the bed. I found his hands sliding up my arms, fingers to talons and the leather cuffs gone. I didn't want to wrap myself around him but that is what my body did, locked my ankles on the small of his back and wrapped my arms around his neck as he kissed me.
I let the feelings sweep me away, knowing I'd have time to process later on and if not, oh well. My fingers slipped into Abraxas's pitch black hair and tangled there, holding his skillful mouth to mine as his body surged up, pushing, demanding against my own. The feel of him inside me drove my body crazy, slipping moans into his mouth as he stole my breath with his kisses.
I could feel the warm blood from my breasts staining our skin as he slammed roughly into me, making me drag my lips from his and scream. His growl sent shivers over my skin as his arms wrapped around my waist, dragging me closer to him. The heat of hellfire was building continuously in my stomach until it burst, threading through my veins and melting my bones. I could feel it on my skin, like a blemish I would never be able to remove.
My feminine muscles clenched around him, pushing a satisfied gasp from his lips, the first sound I'd heard from him all night aside from his boasting, as he dragged himself almost completely out before driving back into me, full force, forcing my orgasm higher and higher until I could barely stand it. Then he was climaxing, his body releasing into mine and I felt the weight of it constricting my heart, dirtying me to the point I would never be clean again.
His silken hair brushed over my collarbone as he finally, after what seemed like ages, withdrew his body from mine. He brushed more kisses over my breasts, my throat, my cheeks before he moved lower, his lips pressing against my stomach. Sweat and blood slicked my skin, the blood almost the same shade of crimson as the thatch of curls between my legs, where his mouth was lingering. His hot breath blew against my throbbing core.
I cried out weakly, my body coming down from its high, exhausted from blood loss and aching with injury. My left wrist still hurt something fierce but I tried to push Abraxas away, even as he inevitably lowered his lips to my core, taking me into his mouth. I let out a meek whimper, clutching the bed sheets as his tongue plundered what I had treasured before he stole it and made it black.
His hot lips caressed my sore skin, causing my back to arch up off the bed. Abraxas took my legs and draped them over his broad shoulder, not even allowing me the illusion that I could close them. I felt his tongue plunge and sweep, drawing out little whimpers and moans from my mouth as my eyes fluttered closed once more, almost unable to keep them open. His hair slid over my inner thighs, bringing with every sweep that I was at his mercy, I was only here for his pleasure.
As his mouth brought on my second orgasm, he dropped me to the bed, his jaw slack with pleasure as he leaned his head back, grinning. I was on the verge of hysteric sobs as he crawled up my body, kneeling over me.
"Little Shadowhunter," he breathed contentedly. "You have been satisfying and surprising me in more ways than one." He bent down over me, my eyes still tightly shut and turned away but they flew open as I felt him gripping my chin again, forcing me to look at him. "Why did you ever settle for a mortal?" He asked me, but it felt more rhetoric, as though he were pondering to himself why he hadn't kidnapped me sooner.
"After taking your blood," he purred in satisfaction, settling his body over mine, trapping me against the bed, as though I had the energy to or will to move. "There is a stronger connection between us." My stomach heaved at the thought.
"Blood calls to blood, and yours contains so much power, untold and unnoticed power that I feel a sense of injustice for you Jocelyn. I know the stories, I know the rumors. You are known as the mother of the Angel Child and Demon Child, the wife of the Clave's Conqueror, the mother of the Deliverer but no name has ever been given to you, the woman who endured the struggles of both angelic and demonic pregnancies, devised the plots and schemes behind the Conqueror's Uprising. You have gone unsung Jocelyn, when you have done so much, hold so much power."
My heart ached at his accusations, throbbing in rhythm with the rest of my body. I'd never minded my place in the background, but sometimes, as the light and fame of the rest of my family grew brighter with each achievement, I'd feel a curious tugging in the region of my chest and feel like I was shrinking while my family grew larger around me like a vast ocean, threatening to drown me in the middle. Sometimes I did go under, lost in the endless blue of the water, sinking there for a time before I slapped myself and brought myself back to the surface with a smile and a warm hug. I still loved my family, but sometimes… I felt like I didn't fit in.
"You, my darling, have gone too long without recognition," he confided softly, brushing his fingers, sans talons, over my cheek. I turned away, his hand having released my chin. "Where would your husband have been had you not aided him in his schemes? Curbed his darker urges and desires? Where would your daughter be had you not raised her, taught her how to wield a stele, carried her within your body? Where would your son be had you not been there to care for him and love him when your husband was cruel and callous? If you had not birthed your daughter to balance him?"
"That makes me sound as though I'm a tool," I murmured, my heart sinking. "An object to be used and thrown away."
I could feel his frown and I suddenly felt like I was personally betraying my family, speaking of their flaws, my failings with a Prince of Hell. His thumb idly brushed over one of my nipples, causing a gasp of discomfort to slip from my mouth at his unexpected touch.
"No, little Shadowhunter. I may be a demon prince but I am not blind to the workings of humanity like many of my brethren. You provided intelligence and skill that your husband would have lacked, controlled and balanced him. Brought a savior into the world as well as the first cross of Shadowhunter and demon. You defined a world, little Jocelyn, a world that would be nothing without you. Most credit is due to you."
It felt horrible to have a demon doll out life lessons when they were the ones stealing that life, corrupting good and damning the consequences. I remained silent, not saying a word even as I felt the Prince of Hell remove himself from my body, from the bed. I didn't even have the energy to open my eyes when a soft, silken sheet was pulled over my naked body.
I heard the popping of buttons and a zipper, telling me Abraxas had gotten dressed once more, before I heard his voice.
"I expect you to drink the water I put on the dresser and for you to shower," he quipped, his voice never changing, always smooth and elegant. Deceptively beautiful.
"But for now rest, I'll return shortly," he stated, and at the snap of his fingers, my consciousness was once again stolen from me.
I nearly cried out as my senses came back to me with a vengeance, bringing with it all the pain and horror of last night. Or maybe it was a few hours ago. Hell didn't seem to have a clock, or even windows. I could still feel his hands all over me, that thing's body inside of mine, where only ever Valentine had been before. And only when I let him, but I'd been bound and weakened, stripped down and humiliated, debased and violated. How would I ever be able to face my family again? I'd spoke of them with Abraxas, of my personal life with a demon of hell.
I was an acolyte of an angel and I had been defiled in ways one a woman should never be so by a demon, a ruler of hell. I felt the tears burning in my eyes, burning like the rest of me was. A filthy demon had claimed me, put his mark on me, where only my husband should have. I attempted not to hyperventilate as I dragged my broken body from bed.
I found my way to the bathroom, a small door beside the dresser, and set the task of scrubbing every inch of my skin off. There was no scrubber, only soaps, so I used my nails to scrub every inch of my skin, irritating it till it became red and angry, every wound throbbing. I didn't realize I was crying until I stepped out of the shower.
Everything hurt as I dragged on my torn clothes from before, my jeans and underwear still intact, my shirt tattered. I was unclean now, unfit to serve the angel, to even look at my family and friends. And my poor husband, I didn't think I'd ever be able to stand his touch again.
My mind was a blur, nothing but shame and uncleanliness clouding my head. I couldn't think as I watched Abraxas come in through the wall, door nonexistent except when he walked through. As he approached me sitting on the edge of the bed like an obedient, beaten dog, waiting for its master. As he took my cheek in his palm, tilting my chin upwards for him to claims my lips.
I couldn't think as I sat there, malleable to the prince's every whim, letting him lower me to the bed. He slowly stripped me of my clothes, though I had just put them back on and took me for the second time, thoroughly enjoying himself as I lay submissive beneath him. But all too soon, he had my body reacting voraciously to his, meeting his thrusts, moaning, stroking him back, crying out in ecstasy even as his fangs sank into my breasts.
After, I laid sweaty and slightly bloodied on top of him, sitting astride his waist with his body buried in mine. My mind slammed back to me, freezing me in place as I realized where I was, what I had done.
"Black magic is very useful," I heard the prince mutter before he threw me to the bed, his mouth wandering over my body for a while. I began kicking and screaming, pushing at Abraxas, even trying to hit him, but with a damned snap of his fingers my legs were dead weight and my hands were back in the leather cuffs.
I screamed until my throat was raw, my body ragged and used, before Abraxas finally released me and dressed me in my clothes once more. He linked his perfectly dressed arm through mine like a gentleman of old.
"Come, I wish to show you something."
Abraxas led me down a multitude of dark halls, turning so many times I lost track of where we were. But eventually, the dark halls opened into a large atrium, the glaring stars in the night sky bright through the glass. In the center of the room, sitting on a raised dais is a carved, obsidian throne.
Abraxas dragged me up the steps to the throne. The atrium was empty except for us. I stared at the throne in confusion a moment, trying to decipher what he was trying to do before he pushed me down onto the cold, stone seat. I was shocked into stillness for a moment, the cold of the stone such a drastic difference from the warmth and heat Abraxas had just given me. The throne seemed to suck out all my heat, every last drop.
I watched a smug smile cross the prince's lips as he took a step back, as though I was a piece of art he'd created and he was admiring his finished product. He folded his hands behind his back.
"Our son will look a very good adornment on your lap there was he is born," Abraxas said absently. I cough, holding a hand to my throat protectively.
"W—what?" I stuttered.
Abraxas smiled, a cool, satisfied smile.
"Our son, growing in your stomach right now, he will look quite handsome, will compliment your beauty as he sits on your lap, on our throne," Abraxas replied, climbing the dais steps again to stand in front of the throne, towering over me to cup my cheek.
"But," I attempted to speak, my eyes wide and glittering with shock as I stared up at the too handsome Prince of Hell. "Children conceived between Shadowhunter and demon are stillborn."
His hand trailed down my throat, coming to rest in the hollow of my collarbone. "Not in a hell realm my little Shadowhunter. Elysium drains the angelic abilities, do you not feel weaker? It is the runes upon a Shadowhunter's skin, infused with pure angelic power that makes the child stillborn. But here, your runes do not work, and therefore have no influence over our son. He will be born strong and kicking, begging to compliment his mother's beauty and strength."
His hand slipped beneath the tatters of my shirt to trail over the swell of my breasts. He seemed all the satisfied father to me, but his cunning edge, razor sharp, was hidden beneath his handsome, civilized façade. One misstep and I would be hurting in ways unimaginable. In the corner of the room, an open doorway, screams could be heard. Of two women, a man and a boy.
I saw flashes of black hair, pale skin, and tall figures being dragged by vetis demons down the halls, Ravener's trailing behind to ensure no trouble happened. I watched in numb horror as the Penhallows were herded away. Then the Prince was herding me away, pulling me gently up from the throne and leading me back down the corridor we came through.
I was tossed into the bedroom once again, the door disappearing behind me, Abraxas leaving me to my own devices. I crumpled to the floor, hugging myself. How was I ever going to get through nine months of carrying another demon child, an heir to the Prince or Hell? I pulled my knees to my chest, rocking back and forth. I pushed the panic down, I would get out of this, I had to get out or I would go insane.
Standing, I let my battle calm settle over me, pushing the panic aside. I was going to kill Abraxas for what he's done, what he will do. Dressed in my tattered shirt and jeans, I braced one booted foot on one of the wood posters of the bed. Even in my weakened state, I managed to break off a jagged, wooden staff. I spun it, testing it for balance before I pressed myself against the wall, beside where the door has come and gone. I stretch my aching muscles, preparing myself for the fight for my freedom.
I heard footsteps outside the wall and gripped the staff tighter. The door shimmered into view as did Abraxas. The second the door closed behind him, I attacked. Leaping forward, I drove my feet into his back, slamming him to the ground. I drove the staff through his back, earning a grunt of surprise before I pulled to the staff out. He threw me off, slamming me into the wall with a grimace on his face, as though the wound actually hurt.
Before he could say a word or punish me, I drove the staff straight through his chest, tearing it to the side to open a gaping hole. His perfect mouth hung open as he looked down at his chest, then back up at me, his hand closed around my throat, pinning me to the wall. Our lips were barely an inch away and despite the gaping hole in his chest, he was smiling, triumphant before he pressed his soft lips against mine.
I'm shocked as he presses my head back against the wall, his tongue parting my lips, violating my body with his dying breath.
"Definitely worthy of a king, my little Shadowhunter."
Those were his last words before he dropped to the ground, black blood pooling around his chest. The Prince of Elysium died in his own realm with a smug grin on his face, an ugly jagged staff protruding from his chest. My knees wobbled, hand going to my throat before I finally fell to the floor, shaking with horror. I resigned myself to curling up against the wall, sobbing my eyes out.