Beauty Bride 2 Page 3

  "Good girl." He leans in and kisses me - a slow, burning kiss thatsets my skin on fire and starts to melt my bones. "Smarter than yourmother gives you credit for."

  Gently, I lean back onto the bed as Lucifer crawls forward with me. His chestpresses against my breasts, and the chill of his skin numbs any lingering painfrom the rings. My back presses against the soft bedding, and I'm pinned undermy husband's weight. I'm trapped between a warm bed and a soft body and have noway of escaping.

  How I despise my cruel, undeserved fate.

  My arms automatically loop around his neck and pull him close as our kissdeepens. I run my hands down the length of his back, feeling the lean muscleshidden just under the skin. It's amazing that so much strength can be held insuch an unassuming body. He's nothing like the muscle-bound juice heads that competein body building competitions; he's much leaner and less testosterone-fueled.But even taking away his immortality and supernatural strength, he could punchthrough a wall of rock with less effort.

  Sandwiched together, both of our bodies kick into autopilot and let our baserinstincts do the talking. His hand slides down the length of my torso and overmy hip, stopping at mid-thigh and slipping under my leg. He lifts my leg high,hooking my knee over his hipbone so we're locked together.

  Our kiss has deepened to a level beyond normal passion, and another round ofeat-your-face-off kissing has started. It's amazing how close we've gotten in amatter of days. Lucifer spilled his soul -- what's left of it, anyway -- to mein the bath, and now we've personally marked each other with the metal that nowaccents our skin. It must be incredibly difficult for him to get thisemotionally close to anyone, but its progress. A few more days and I mightattempt a striptease if he proves himself.

  Stop. Destroy that idea this instant. A striptease? As if I can dance?

  My logical voice tries to dissuade me from attempting the impossible -- dancingwell enough not to embarrass myself -- but my rebellious spirit has a deathgrip on the challenge and won't let go. I've made my decision. Good behavior onLucifer's part equates to a striptease from me. It sound incredibly fair sincewe'll both be out of our comfort zones, and we both might enjoy seeing myparade around in a lace thong trying my best to seduce him.

  Hell, if I can get him to fuck me seconds after he spilled his heart in thebathtub, I can do anything.

  Our embrace lasts far longer than expected, but neither of us cares. We shouldhave started tearing the bed apart about five minutes ago, but it's wonderfulto just lay here and hold each other. I chalk it up as another small victory inmaking him a little more open. I've discovered the more intimate we are, themore honest and warm he becomes. That's really good news; I can use the idea ofmaking him more trusting and open as an excuse to drag him to bed five times aday.

  A knock at the door startles us out of our embrace. I pull away, scrambling tothe edge of the bed and pulling the sheets to my chest. I may be queen of theunderworld, but my body is for my husband's eyes only. Lucifer himself groans,scowling at the wall for a moment before pushing himself up.

  "What?" he snaps.

  CHAPTER 39:

  "Sire. We've brought the queen's new servant as you requested."

  New servant?

  Lucifer's eyes brighten instantly. "Perfect! Bring her in!" He turns to me, a wicked smile sharpening his features. "I have a gift for you."

  I stare at him, confused and curious. "A gift?"

  He nods. "Think of it as a wedding present."

  I swallow loudly. This can't be good.

  There's a commotion outside. I can hear the deep voices of demons mixed with a higher, more fragile voice of a woman. My heart clenches a little. The poor girl. I must be getting a new arrival that has to pay off a debt. I sigh and stand, tossing the sheets aside and turning to stare at the door. Lucifer disappears from my line of sight for a second, then returns carrying a beautifully embroidered black satin robe. I shrug it on quickly, pulling the tie at the waist and knotting it tightly. The last thing I need is one of my newly pierced boobs to pop out while this girl is being hauled in to begin her punishment.

  A knock at the door signals that our company has arrived. Lucifer turns to me and smiles, then stares at the door and nods. It swings open of its own accord, revealing two massive demons standing outside. They step in quickly, dragging my new servant behind them. Her head is down and her body covered with filthy rags, hiding her from view. The demons pause a few feet in front of us and shove the woman to the floor. She goes willingly, falling to her hands and knees and hanging her head. Stands of short sandy blond hair fall in front on her face, shielding her from my eyes.

  Lucifer nods again. "Stay. She'll need to be escorted to her quarters after she's introduced to the queen."

  The demons nod and step back a bit, giving us room to maneuver.

  Lucifer steps up to the woman, stopping just inches in front of her hands. "I'd hope you have some idea of why you're here."

  The woman nods, her blond hair moving slightly. "Yes."

  Lucifer starts to slowly circle the woman. "And why are you here?"

  The woman is shaking slightly. "I-I had made a deal with you and backed out at the last minute."

  I'm slightly stunned. She sounds much older that I'd expected. I was imagining some nubile teenager who'd sold her soul to become popular, not a middle-aged woman who'd weaseled out on a deal.

  My breathing stops. Dirty blond hair. Middle-aged. Backed out of a deal at the last minute.

  Oh no.

  My stomach completes a double backflip. I'm silently praying that my instincts are horribly wrong and it's simply a woman who looks like my mother. But somewhere deep inside of me, I know my hopes are useless. What I'm looking at is the final product of my mother's endless dealings and manipulations. All those years of using and abusing people have finally caught up to her.

  "Lift your head," Lucifer snaps. "Do not be rude to your queen."

  The woman nods and slowly raises her head. A woman in her mid-forties with a round face and pin-straight blond hair peers up at me. Thin-lipped and well tanned, her emerald green eyes stare up at me with a mixture of fear and apology.

  I take a long, slow breath, exhaling loudly. My mother, the woman who had tried and failed to raise me for nineteen years, has become my personal servant. Our roles have been reversed, with me now being completely in charge and her being subservient to me. Dear God, how do I handle this?

  It's ironic, really. She spends all her life dreaming of becoming a part of royalty - even selling her soul and bartering off her daughter to attain that dream -- only to end up serving under a queen. Karma can be a real a bitch sometimes, but I never question her.

  I take another slow breath. All the years of anger and rebellion begin to bubble to the surface, making my new position all the more perilous. She's done so much harm to so many people that I'm fairly justified in smacking her around as much as I want. Besides, I'm queen. No one would challenge me if I did. In the underworld, it would actually be expected that I did torture her and make her pay.

  But none of that is really me. Unlike my mother, I get no satisfaction or personal gain from using or harming others. Unless it was a dire situation where harming her was the only way to save my mother, I could never bring myself to hurt her, no matter how much she deserves it. I shove down all the anger and resentment I feel towards her and let my rational mind step up to the plate instead.

  "What happened to David?" My voice is soft but fueled with anger. If she's gotten him or my step-brothers hurt, I'll explode.

  Relief washes over her face. "He's fine. So are Andrew and Marcus."

  I'm relieved, too. At least they're safe. Of out entire family, they came out unscathed and alive. They may have lost a sister and a wife, but they're okay.

  "Where are they?" I'm slightly calmer, but no less pissed.

  "At home." Her voice is soft, nervous.

  I nod, turning away to avoid eye contact. I'm excited to know that the rest of my family is safe, but I
'm still pissed at my mother. I'll be honest, I do get a small amount of satisfaction knowing she's finally gotten her comeuppance. It's slightly refreshing to see a person who's done so much damage and been so self-serving have her plans blow up in her face. But, again, I have no desire to shove her around and humiliate her. I'll make damn sure she knows her place below me, but she'll be fed and clothed and treated like a normal person.

  I sigh. "Get up."

  CHAPTER 40:

  My mother stares at me in shock for an instant, her eyes flicking fearfully to Lucifer. "But I..."

  "Mother, please get up." My tone is cold, but not emotionless.

  She nods quickly and rises to her feet, brushing the dirt and soot from the rags she's been dressed in and squaring her shoulders. Her eyes meet mine and stare coldly. Two sets of eyes - emerald green and hazel - are squaring off.

  "Alright," I sigh. "Let's get you out of those rags properly dressed."

  Both my mother and Lucifer stare at me, stunned. They've both expected me to go thermonuclear on mom and tear her to pieces. Instead, I do the opposite and act rationally.

  I turn to my husband, giving him my patented exhausted look. "She's my mom. Hell yes, she's fucked up, but I'm not going to treat her like an animal. I can't use and abuse her just because she screw me over. I was raised better than that." I can't help taking the shot. It might rattle my mother's cage enough that she'll shape up a bit.

  My mother's eyes narrow an inch, a dead giveaway that she's gearing up for a fight. "Your father raised you to be sweet and gentle, Lisa. He never taught you how to protect yourself or go after what you wanted. I taught you that. All you ever learned from him was how to pitch."

  Damn straight.

  My mother, for once, is telling the truth. She taught me the art of manipulating people and fooling boys to get what I want. As if I really needed help there -- mom once remarked that my chest could convince a gay man to sleep with me. My father, on the other hand, taught me how to fix a flat tire, wield a drill and pitch a ball fast enough that I was recruited onto the boy's baseball team in high school.

  Dad wins this one.

  I clamp my mouth shut, fighting my instinct to spin around and tear her face off. The family joke is that my mother practically owns China since her ego is larger than the entire country, and she's just proved it here. She likes to think of herself as a hot-shot supermodel that can charm her way into anything. She's really an insecure little girl who tries to compensate for her faults by using others to get her way.

  High school flashbacks, anyone? Tessa Helsten, you've met your match.

  Thankfully, I'm used to my mother's blame game and easily avoid losing my temper. Instead, I take a cleansing breath and turn to face her. "You taught me how to win. Dad taught me how to survive. You lose this argument."

  She wears a mask of annoyance, as if she's been slighted. "Lisa, I've taught you-"

  I narrow my eyes and hold up my hand, silencing her. "This conversation ends here and now. I've been kind enough to respect you as my mother despite your constant manipulations of me, and I've offered to clothe you as a normal person instead of the servant that you are. But the more you run your mouth, the less kindness I may be inclined to show."

  That right there, that was awesome.

  At that moment, all three of us are stunned in our own separate ways. My mother is horrified that I've finally showed some spine and faced her head-on. Lucifer looks about ready to pick me up and start swinging me around because I managed to stand my ground. I'm excited because, for the first time since my marriage, I sounded like a queen.

  My mother stares at me for a moment, the drops her head in defeat. I may be her daughter, but I am no longer the insecure push-over she remembers. She cannot barter me off or put me in as a replacement when she backs out of a deal any longer. I am her superior, and she is bound to follow my orders. The parent must now answer to the child.

  Freud would have a field day with this.

  Mom avoids making eye contact, instead staring at the floor like a guilty teenager who's just been caught sneaking out. I shake off our argument and walk over to armoire. I grip the twisting iron handles and throw the doors open, beginning my descent into the endless piles of clothing that awaits me inside.

  My quest is almost an immediate failure. The racks are full of clothing meant for my frame, not my mother's. I'm about five-foot-seven, a slender size six and possess a chest that makes me very top-heavy. Mom's about three inches shorter than me, with wider hips, a generous chest like mine and far more junk in her trunk. Sharing clothing is impossible for us.

  I pull out of the racks, exasperated. This isn't going to work. We'll have to find some way to have her clothing tailored to her frame instead of shoving her into my dresses.

  CHAPTER 41:

  Ten pounds of sausage in a five pound bag. Even here that's a little harsh.

  "Any way we could have someone make stuff for her?" I look over my shoulder at Lucifer.

  He's pouting angrily. Not at me, but at my decision to treat my mother like more than just a servant. He has an in-depth knowledge of who she is and what she's done -- I was forced into this marriage because of her -- so he's less than thrilled that I'm treating her so kindly. He'd rather toss her into the flaming rivers and be done with it. But she's my mother and my servant, so I have the last word.

  He glances at mom briefly, still upset, then returns his gaze to me and nods. "I suppose we could have the seamstresses create something..."

  I smile and nearly skip over to him, looping my arms around his shoulders and crushing my lips to his. I hear his soft gasp of surprise morph into quite moan of lust. His arms encircle my waist, pulling me sharply against him. His hands slide down the smooth fabric of my robe and cup my ass, a possessive motion that lets the remaining demons in the room know he's staking his claim.

  I nearly twitch away at first, then decide to lat him have his moment. Besides his hands feeling damn good massaging my ass, he needs a way to mark his territory against any overly-ambitious demons that may be eyeballing me from a distance. I'm also having the time of my life knowing that my prudish mother is watching my fallen angle husband feel me up. For a woman who's sold off her daughter for a failed attempt at the English crown, my mother has an incredibly hard time watching people explore their sexuality.

  Silently, I decide to use our constant displays of affection as a tiny weapon against my mother. I don't have the heart to torture her or condemn her to death for what she's done to me. But I do have the confidence to make her suffer through watching Lucifer and I eat each other's faces off and ransack the bed.

  It's a punishment that will reduce the need for having a demon pull out her hair as a torture. After two weeks, she'll be doing it herself.

  Finally, after a few long heartbeats of kissing and having my ass wonderfully massaged, I pull away from Lucifer and smile up at him. He does his best to hold back his grin, but I can see the tiny flickers of lust in his bright eyes. A bubble of my own desire starts prodding my mind, and I smile to myself as I push it down gently, keeping it hidden for now.

  Is it legal for a woman to want her husband like this?

  Tearing my eyes away from my impossibly handsome husband, I turn back to my mother. She's staring at us with a mixture of horror and disgust, a sure sign that our few seconds of PDA worked like a charm.

  I give her an apologetic smile. "Unfortunately, we don't have anything for you to wear besides the clothing you've been given."

  My mother sulks like a child. "There's nothing I can wear?"

  I raise my eyebrows. "Mom, have you ever been able to fit into my jeans?"

  That shuts her up.

  I shake my head. "For right now, you'll just have to deal with what you have. We'll have the seamstresses work something out and you can wear what they give you." I stop, eyeing my mother cautiously. "But only what they give you. This is Hell and you're my servant, so you don't get your choice of color or style. I'll do what
I can to make you feel comfortable, but I run this place, not you."

  She sighs and nods. I feel almost giddy. For the first time in years, my mom has acquiesced to falling into her place. And for the first time, I'm starting to feel like I'm a real queen.

  "I'll put the order in for you to wear something besides rags. Until then, you can go. I'll call when I need you."

  My mother stares at me for a moment, unsure of what to do. She knows her place is below me, but it must be incredibly difficult for her to relinquish the power she's held onto so tightly to her only daughter. Taking orders from me isn't something she's used to. She nods silently, though, and starts to make her way towards the door.

  CHAPTER 42:

  "That's perfect!" The door to our room opens as we enter the hall. "You can meet the others while we eat."

  I manage to gain my footing and follow closely behind him. "Others?"

  He grins over his shoulder at me. "Beelzebub, Asmodeus, Leviathan. All the other angels that fell with me. They've been asking about you relentlessly since I announced our engagement. Meeting you will finally shut them up."

  Yes! Food!

  My body rejoices silently, the promise of long-awaited nourishment spurring me on to keep pace with him. We make our way quickly down the hall, turning sharply down one of the many smaller halls that branch off the man corridor. We begin to turn randomly, spinning left and right down a myriad of hallways until I'm nearly dizzy.

  Left...right...right...left....right...shit!