Background noises and thoughts faded as thoughts of Lilliana filled his mind. He drifted, his memories giving him his first moments of peace since this nightmare had begun.
“Azagoth?”
He leaped to his feet, startled by the sound of Lilliana’s voice. “Lil?”
He spun around toward the doorway and froze at the sight of her standing inside it. She wore a shapeless, stained, gray tunic, but her hair was perfect, hanging in smooth ringlets, her skin rosy, her eyes bright.
She flew into his arms. Her scent, vanilla and jasmine, surrounded him. “I’m here. How am I here instead of inside Moloch’s dungeon?”
This couldn’t be real. But he couldn’t let her go. “I don’t care how,” he murmured into her hair. It smelled like coconut.
“I think…” She pushed back slightly and looked up at him. “I think we’re asleep.” She dropped her hand to her flat belly. “But it’s not a dream.”
He frowned. “You think we’re dream walking? Or astral projecting?”
“I think the baby is making it happen.”
That was entirely possible. Females pregnant with a powerful child often temporarily inherited the baby’s abilities. “If that’s true, how will we know if this is real or not?”
She thought about that for a second. “I know.” She gestured to her chest of drawers. “When you wake up, open my lingerie drawer. In the very back, there’s a little red box. It’s a gift I was going to give you when the baby was born. If you didn’t know about it before just now, then that’s proof that this isn’t all a dream.”
He supposed that was true, but he didn’t like how she’d framed the argument, that she was going to give it to him.
“You’ll be here when the baby’s born, Lilliana.” He kissed her, losing herself in the warmth of her sweet lips. “I’ll find a way to bring you home.”
“I know,” she murmured against his mouth.
He lifted his head and took in the sight of her, memorizing every eyelash, the curve of her jaw, the graceful slope of her nose. He should have spent more time admiring her before. How wasteful he’d been these past years.
“How will you know this is real?”
“I don’t need proof,” she said. “I can feel it through the baby.” Her eyes grew bright, the way they did when she was excited about an idea. “Azagoth, we can use this.”
If this was real, and not some kind of trick, then yes, they could. “First, I need to know how you are. I saw video—”
“Shh.” She put a finger to his lips. “The baby and I are strong. But please tell me you have a plan to get me out of here. Don’t tell me what it is, though, just in case this is some sort of trick, or Moloch is somehow listening in.”
Damn, he loved how in sync they were. “I’m working on it now. But can you tell me anything that might help? Did Moloch tell you who betrayed us?”
“I asked him, but all he said was that I’d find out eventually. He’s so awful, Azagoth. Totally demented. He actually added an H to his name so history would differentiate between Moloc and Moloch, as if anyone gives a crap.”
“I know,” he ground out. “He sent out an official announcement over the demonweb. A fucking diatribe about how his good friend John Milton misspelled Moloc in Paradise Lost, but that it must have been fate that he’d added an H, because now the universe would witness the rise of Moloch. The guy is a narcissistic lunatic.”
He was far more unstable than Azagoth had anticipated.
Lilliana nodded absently, and when she spoke, there was a hitch in her voice. “I’m sorry about Maddox and Journey.” At his choked-up nod, she went on. “I don’t know if this is helpful or not, but Moloch said he had everything planned out, from my admission to Underworld General to my plan to go to Ares’ island afterward.” Pulling away, she moved toward the glass doors leading to the balcony. “And Flail’s here. With Moloch, I mean. Can you get some background on her? Anything from her past as an angel, maybe?”
Flail. That bitch. She’d betrayed them more than once, and he was certain she was behind the death of at least one of his children. “Has she hurt you?”
He was already planning to kill her, but if she’d harmed Lilliana in any way, he’d take a long time doing it.
“On the contrary, she’s being nice.” Lilliana pulled the curtain away from the balcony doors, letting in daylight. There was no sun here, but the endless sky above kept to the day and night schedule, the brightness during the day directly in tune with Azagoth’s mood. Right now, it was as brilliant as the noon sun in any desert. “It’s most likely a ploy to get me to cooperate, but she has the advantage of knowing more about me than I know about her.”
“I’ll get whatever you need.” He came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her midsection, tugging her close.
“I need you.” There were tears in her voice, and his heart broke open, spilling agony all through his chest cavity.
“Soon,” he promised. “I will do anything to get you back.”
“Is that why everything outside is destroyed?”
He gazed out at the field of debris and the scorched, scarred land. His realm really did reflect what was going on in his life, didn’t it?
“I tried to get out.”
“Oh, darling,” she whispered, turning into him. She settled her head against his chest, and he felt wetness drip down his skin. She was crying, and he felt so damned helpless. All he could do was hold her.
And feel like an utter failure.
How he wished he could go back in time, to the very beginning, to the day Gabriel had come to him with the opportunity to do something for the sake of all the realms.
He’d still have done it, but he’d have made some substantial changes to the contract. Although, in truth, it wasn’t the original contract that was the problem. The issue was that Heaven kept changing the rules. They’d left things hazy enough in the contract that they always found ways to change shit.
Initially, there had been an escape clause, a way for Azagoth to retire if he ever wanted to. And then he’d pissed off the wrong archangel dickhead, and the asshole had successfully petitioned to have the clause struck from the contract, and a containment stone installed to keep him from breaking out.
It had been a betrayal that’d put an end to Azagoth’s cooperation with Heaven.
Fuckers.
Lilliana sniffed. “Oh, hey,” she mumbled against his chest. “This is a dream. I don’t need tissue!” She looked up at him, smiling, no watery eyes or red-splotched cheeks. “And, check it out. No shapeless tunic that I think might be made from stinging nettles and hornets.”
She stepped back, and despite all the shit running through his head, he got an instant erection.
She was as naked as he was, an exquisite example of the female form. He’d been with a lot of females, from succubi to angels who sat on the high councils, but none of them could compare to Lilliana. He loved her curves, her full, heavy breasts with their dusky nipples that pebbled beautifully under his tongue. Her narrow waist that flared into softly rounded hips made for his hands to grip as he licked between her thighs and made her whimper for more.