Chapter Five: The End of Love

Chapter Five - The end of love

His grip on her arm was immovable, fingertips digging into the tender underside as he dragged her along. Any respect she might have commanded from the lesser angel in heaven meant nothing here; as Asmodeus’s herald, he held a higher standing, even above the King’s wife. His brazen display of abuse as they paraded through the halls, visible to any imp…

He released her only to bar the door, shoving her into the marital bedroom. The sight of Asmodeus at his desk, sipping from a crystal decanter amidst the splendor of the chamber, was a momentary relief. This quickly turned to wariness as he didn't meet her eyes, simply staring into his glass, swirling the liquid, and clenching his jaw.

“My lord.” Gadreel bowed deeply, with a reverence she'd only ever witnessed bestowed upon their heavenly father. 

Asmodeus finally met her eyes. Black voids where they should have been the depths of midnight.

“It is as you said, your majesty,” Gadreel brushed past her to stand by Asmodeus’s elbow, casually refilling his drink as her husband’s unwavering gaze took in every inch of her. “The queen was no longer in the Nessus. I plucked her out of the Stygia only a moment ago.”

Fear replaced her initial apprehension as anger darkened his expression. Only then did she realize she’d never seen him truly angry before.

“My brother needed—”

His gaze did not waver from hers. “Your brother is no longer your concern. I am your husband, and I ordered you to remain in the fortress. For your own protection.” He stood up, and her inner core of strength gave out—she flinched back. “What if you were attacked? What if you’re pregnant?”

“I'm not.” Her hand instinctively moved to protect her belly. They had examined her earlier that morning. His expression changed abruptly, the cold fury replaced with a calculating look that made her insides churn with dread.

“Then we’ll have to try harder.”

“N…” The word died on her lips, caution preventing her from immediate discouragement. “It will happen as god wills…”

Horror dawned as she realized that was the worst possible thing she could have said.

“I am your king. Your husband. God has no will in the Hells, it’s mine to command—answers to my will alone.” He grabbed her arm and yanked her forward, her feet having no choice but to obey. He pushed her onto their marital bed. 

“You want to know what things might happen to an unprotected female wandering about the hells?” he whispered against her cheek as he wrapped her wrists in a binding cloth. “Gadreel.”

His herald appeared at his side, wearing a gloating expression he wasn’t even trying to subdue. “My liege?”

“Remove her clothing.”

There was a glint in Gadreel’s eyes that made her hands go clammy, nausea roiling in her gut. Not again. 

There was no reverence or deference in the way he removed her robes, no hesitation or gentility—he tore through them as though he had the right, cutting in places that wouldn’t tear. She watched Asmodeus the entire time, waiting for him to retract his order, worried that if she looked away, he’d forget she was his wife and take this too far. It was already too far—beyond the point of forgiveness.

“Asmodeus…” she whispered his name as a plea. “Don’t…” 

Don’t go down this path, don’t make me resent you…

Gadreel's mouth was a harsh line, unyielding and stern. His hands, rough and almost cruel, deliberately brushed across her exposed skin, the wrongness of his touch churning the sickness in her stomach. He’s not going to stop him. The realization struck her like a physical blow, a brutal punch to the gut.

“This is for your own good, Benzosia.” Asmodeus’s voice was as cold and smooth as a marble slab, a stark contrast to the tempest of her own emotions. “Since you seem to have no awareness of the true dangers that can befall women. You aren’t shielded by your name in this place.”

She should be. Her title should afford her some measure of safety. But not if her husband didn’t stand by his claim.

“Continue, Gadreel. Show our sweet, naïve Benzosia what might’ve happened to her for disobeying me.”

“Yes, my liege.” Gadreel grasped her face, his fingers digging into her cheeks as he forced her to look at him when she tried to turn away. “I’ll enjoy this, little Morningstar. Not so haughty now?” he whispered, his breath hot in her ear, but she could swear Asmodeus heard. Wasn’t going to stop him.

His calloused hands, rough as sandpaper, gripped her thighs, and her mind went blank, overwhelmed by a flood of revulsion and terror. No one but her husband should be touching her like this.

He entered her without ceremony, shoving himself in, the burning, tearing pain of it snapping her back to her senses. He began thrusting roughly, her body jerking like a ragdoll with each brutal movement. She couldn’t even move her hands to stop him. The pain… the humiliation… he could have her in this way and there was nothing she could do.

“Ah, Gadreel. We should be ensuring she can last. After all, there might be more than one who wants a turn debasing their unprotected queen.” Asmodeus held him back, but didn’t make him withdraw from her. Instead, he pressed a cold glass vial to her lips, his fingers digging into her jaw as he forced the liquid down her throat.

The liquid blazed a trail of fire through her veins, turning her insides to a puddle, stealing away whatever fight she might have left. Her body went lax, entirely held up by Gadreel's grasping hands and the rod he’d impaled her with. Asmodeus tapped her cheek and she blinked up at him, slow and lazy, fighting to remain alert.

“That should do it.” Then he was removing his clothing too, each piece dropping to the floor with a soft, sinister rustle.

She wanted to fight, wanted to scream, couldn’t rally the energy to do either. Her body lay pliant for them to use as they saw fit.

The next time she blinked her eyes open, it was to the sight of her husband’s arousal, right in her face, prodding at her lips. She no longer noticed the intrusion of Gadreel, couldn’t fight Asmodeus shoving himself down her throat so she couldn’t breath… could do nothing but take it. Her punishment.

Everything blurred after that, with flashes of awareness when they moved her body as they pleased, when they switched places… when someone breached a different hole–and when they both entered her together, tearing her apart. At some point they brought her to her own completion, forcing the screams of pleasure she didn’t want, again and again until pleasure and pain twisted into one.

She lost count of how many times they reached their own climaxes, one blurring into the next. It was endless. Their touches, their groping, their use of her body…

She awoke to a pounding headache that momentarily blinded her to the other aches of her body. Only for a moment, then the pain between her legs overshadowed even that. Her wrists burned raw, half dried sticky mess covered her torso, and the slick feeling between her legs churned up nausea she didn’t have the energy to fight back. She moved quickly to the side of the bed, vomiting forcefully. As she was coughing and swiping at her face, a glass of water appeared in her line of vision, held by a man’s hand, long graceful fingers, slender wrist… she followed it up to the sight of Basileus with a look of such concern it made her stomach twist once more.

“Rinse your mouth, then I’ll help you to the bathing room.” Basileus spoke assuredly, no pity to be heard, and she could profess her love to him in that moment, just for that.

She accepted the glass, swishing the water around her mouth violently, trying to wash the taste of not only her bile but the memory of the seed that had been spilled there. Nausea reared up again, but she managed to quell it with the thought of a hot bath.

He helped her, averting his gaze as she stripped, until she was sunk deep in the soothing water. 

“Allow me to wash your hair, my queen?”

The bathhouse of the harem, usually loud with the chatter of attendants and the laughter of concubines, was peaceful for once. The only sound was the soft drip of water from an ornate fountain, echoing through the empty chamber. Where were the attendants who usually bustled about, their hands filled with towels and fragrant oils? Where were the concubines who would lounge in the pools, their voices filling the air with court gossip and intrigue?

“I offered to care for you today—the others are frightened.”

“Frightened?”

“The Herald declared a lashing for anyone caught near you.”

“Then, what about you?” She scrubbed her hands down her face. “Go back. I don’t want you hurt because of me.”

“If it’s all the same, my lady, I would rather stay. You’re in need of care… after that.”

“You know?” The words were no more than a hoarse whisper, humiliation flooding her, threatening tears. “Do they all…”

“Hush now.” He cupped his hands and poured water over her hair. “Do you think any of us in the harem have not experienced this side of our king and his herald? We don’t pity you, my queen, but commiserate.”

Those words settled like lead in her gut. She’d been true to Asmodeus; her eyes had never strayed from her beloved… yet, he partook of an entire harem?

“Even since… I came?”

Basileus’s clear blue eyes shadowed at that. “There are things, I’d presume, he’d rather not subject his lovely wife to.”

“I suppose he changed his mind,” she scoffed, relaxing into Basileus’s soothing hands as they scrubbed her hair.

“Dunk.” He pressed the top of her head, and she leaned back to submerge it, rinsing out the thick lather.

She swiped the water from her eyes to find Basileus staring at her, mouth opening and closing as he debated his words.

“My queen,” he began. “His lesson for you was but a toe into the depths of depravity those two practice. I apologize for bearing this news.”

Depravity.

The word did not fit the Asmodeus she knew so well, the one she fell for. It was difficult to deny the truth of it, given the small sampling she’d gotten.

“He’s not the man I fell in love with.”