Sweet Temptation
Page 113

Duke Thamuz is practically drooling, his eyes bright red. “Enough games. I want blood.” I palm my knife in my pocket. If it’s blood he wants, I’ll give him his own.
I search the walls and ceiling desperately for that bright light, thinking now would be a brilliant time for the angels to show, but there are only demons and Neph.
Father chuckles and I seethe at how he holds Anna against himself, eyes bright with hunger for his prey. “We will savor her. I won’t even have her first. She’s my little gift to you, brothers. Just be careful not to kill her yet, because she needs to suffer in every possible way. Heaven is watching. Let’s give them a show.”
I can hardly breathe as the Dukes move toward her, their eyes glowing red—Mammon, Thamuz, and Sonellion—Dukes of Greed, Murder, and Hatred. My eyes dart across the walls. Where are the bloody angels???
Anna struggles against Father as he laughs, darkly, getting his kicks off her fear, feeding off the rabid look in the others’ eyes. I can’t take it.
“Father . . . ,” I call.
“Not now!” He doesn’t even turn.
Mammon, the bastard who killed his own son, Flynn, is mere feet away from Anna, and he’s unbuckling his pants. I glance at Kope, his eyes severe, and he gives me a nod.
I zone in on Mammon as he licks his lips lewdly and reaches for Anna. Before I can blink again, my knife is out, opened, and flying directly toward its target. It imbeds deep in his eye, only the handle showing.
My God.
I hold my breath. He staggers back, then to the side as he tries to right himself, and ultimately falls to his knees. His spirit starts wrenching itself out before the body is dead, frantically fighting to release itself as if it’s on fire. I pull out my second knife and snap it open. All eyes are on Mammon, in horror and confusion.
Father turns abruptly, dragging Anna sideways. His face is contorted, livid, and he sprays spittle when he snarls at me. “What have you done?”
“Just a bit of holy water on the blade,” I tell him.
Mammon’s body dies with a thunk on the floor, and his spirit writhes in midair, in agony.
“You,” Father whispers. He advances on me, pulling Anna, and my stomach twists. I have publicly shamed him in the worst possible way, and if something doesn’t happen soon, it could get very ugly. “I trusted you.”
I nearly laugh. “No, you didn’t.”
Father gapes. Neph and Dukes alike gasp at my backtalk. I have to be careful here—I need to get Anna away from him, and I only have one knife left. He’s pulled her body in front of his, practically crouching behind her.
“You filthy, weak idiot!” Father shouts. “You had more potential than all my past sons combined! How could you let yourself be charmed, like a dog, by a Neph girl? You’re a failure.”
You’re a failure. Nothing I ever did was good enough.
“Kill him,” Rahab demands.
Nobody moves.
Adrenaline beats through me as I stare around at the room, glad to have the attention off Anna. I weave the blade through my fingers, hoping they will forget about her and let her go while they’re focused on me. I wait for them to advance, but they simply stare at me with red eyes, quickened breaths, and ferocious faces.
I’ve pissed off the lot of them. Except perhaps Jezebet, the one female Duke. She looks rather amused. And Alocer is stoic and unmoved, very much like Kopano, his son.
“Brother Pharzuph,” Astaroth begins. I know what he is going to say, and I steel myself. “I’m afraid this is more dire than we thought. Your son and the traitor’s daughter are quite . . . in love.”
Hm. I like the sound of that. It’s the worst possible kick in the balls I can give Father, who looks as if he might vomit. “You jest,” he snarls.
“Not in the least,” Astaroth says. “And they’ve acted on it. They’re married.”
The room erupts in loud gasps and sounds of outrage.
Our Nephilim revolt has begun.
The sons of Thamuz are next to disobey their father, although it’s under the influence of Anna—she telepathically sends them the order, even as she’s being gripped from behind by my father. She rarely uses her unique power of influence unless it’s to stop an evil act such as this. Much to their own confusion, the sons of Thamuz put down their guns and won’t shoot us.
The twins are next, refusing to move away from my side when Astaroth orders. The Dukes are seething at the audacity of the Nephilim not to obey them.
“Excuse me, Duke Rahab,” calls Marek from the door he guards. “I apologize for the interruption, but I believe Duke Belial approaches.”
Belial enters in his rapper body, sporting a pinstriped suit with a gorgeous Zania at his side, standing tall and strong. Her father, Sonellion, lets out a growl of outrage.
“Traitor! You were behind all of this! You stole my daughter!”
Belial laughs at this notion. Everyone knows Sonellion discarded his daughter. “We got a lot to talk about,” Belial tells his fellow Dukes. “I know I’m not the only one in this room who knew after the Fall we’d been used like a bunch of fools. Lucifer’s the one who did us wrong—”
“How dare you!” Rahab bellows.
Sonellion reaches for his gun, but Belial points a finger straight at me.
“You’d better rethink that, my man. You see my son-in-law over there? He got damn good aim with that knife, as y’all have seen.”