Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 33520 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 168(@200wpm)___ 134(@250wpm)___ 112(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33520 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 168(@200wpm)___ 134(@250wpm)___ 112(@300wpm)
Iblis hisses, and his head falls back like it always does. Iblis, the little slut who wants to be chaste.
Abaddon laughs as he drags the blade along her body. “I could cut her clothes off, Iblis, and make you tongue-fuck her like Asmodeus fucks your tight little ass. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
Iblis moans, rubbing his rosary beads as he mutters another prayer.
I nip at his ear and whisper loud enough for him to hear, “Keep praying to your God, Iblis. But you know as well as I do that all you’ll ever be is evil.” I inhale his scent and graze my fangs along his jugular vein. “The darkness is your blood, a narcotic in your veins, making your heart beat faster.”
Iblis lifts his arm and grips my hair through the mask, yanking my head back. “It’s true I’m many things, Asmodeus, but I’m not a rapist.” He lets go of my hair and takes several steps back as if being close to the sleeping woman is too tempting.
Ignoring Iblis and his usual self-torture, I walk closer to the beauty in my bed. Lifting her wrist, I focus on her vein, pumping blood around her body.
Abaddon smirks. “Think about it, Bro. How sweet that blood would taste and how pretty her limbs would look on my wall.”
“Kill her and get it over with,” Iblis snaps.
I growl at Iblis, wanting to get under his skin, “Nah, I think we’ll keep her around as a little plaything and make you watch.”
Chapter Four
IBLIS
My existence is a constant conflict zone.
Various cancers battle for dominance in my mind and body, trying to infect me and win the war.
Sins and virtues mingle in my mind as I struggle to cast one out and embrace the other. Lust and Chastity are the two that burn the brightest. Right now, for example, as my cock strains against my pants, all I can think about is sucking a cock while being fucked in the ass.
It never makes it better; it only perpetuates the cycle. If I were stronger, I’d cut my balls off to kill the dark desires within me.
“And if your eye causes you to sin, tear it out. It is better for you to enter the kingdom of God with one eye than with two eyes to be thrown into hell.”
Abaddon and Asmodeus hover over the girl. Her clothing marks her as a temptress, black leather hugging her curves. But the way her chest rises and falls mixes with the sweet contours of her face, which resembles the most pious of angels.
I’m a little shocked that the twins haven’t ravaged her yet. They have a penchant for wanting to mutilate and desecrate people and places they view as pure. Unlike me, they’ve accepted their place at the mouth of hell, the hope of salvation extinguished from their hearts. Yet a part of me is still desperate to save them, more than my need to save myself.
Abaddon’s blade glides up and down the beauty’s body, and I know it’s taking everything in him not to prick her with the tip. He licks his lips like a wolf about to devour a rabbit, knowing this meal will satiate him.
I see the need for blood in Asmodeus’ eyes. His lips part slightly, and he moves his tongue along his fang-shaped incisors. Abaddon may appear to be the most unhinged of the three of us, but it’s Asmodeus who is ruthlessly lethal. He takes a sick, twisted pleasure in causing slow, torturous pain as he strikes his blows. My mind flashes to the brutal way the two take care of enemies. Abaddon uses a saw to remove the limbs he finds desirable, while Asmodeus feasts on the living force of blood.
Asmodeus’ head shoots up, and his ethereal blue eyes glare at me. The same blue eyes of the little boy I met so long ago. Back then, his irises resembled a calm lake, but today, they’re turbulent oceans. I swear he’s obsessed at these moments. Satan dwells within him, beckoning me to him.
I step forward as shame consumes me because as hard as I try to avoid temptation, a part of me craves it like a junkie craves a needle full of heroin. My addiction to these men is an illness. I’m an addict who lies and says this is the last time, yet I return repeatedly for another hit. I don’t think about the future, damnation, or how I’ll be judged and persecuted. I only think about the moments they use me, and I’m free.
One foot moves in front of the other until I stand before Asmodeus. My heart races as he fists my shirt, and buttons fly around the room, exposing my bare chest. Panic rises as Asmodeus bends his head to my neck and digs his teeth into my flesh. Chills wrack my body as his warm tongue licks at the wound he’s inflicted, tasting my blood. “Don’t worry, slut. I’ll make sure it hurts.”