*Chiara

At the threshold to the next hall, after they had crossed the endless sea of gambling tables and tempting feasts, an ear-splitting gong of bells sounded. Chiara ducked, reflexively, heart hammering instantly with apprehension.

"That can't be good," she said.

"That's the alarm." Logan's face was grim. "They have discovered Lucius, or the dust that is left of him, and know there is a traitor in the halls who killed him."

"I'm not a traitor, I'm an enemy."

"Dirk will tell them both of us were in that dungeon. They'll be looking for a traitor and an angel. Now, the hunt begins."

They stepped through the invisible, dark curtain that marked the space between the halls and bright light stung Chiara's eyes, leaving her blind for several seconds. She blinked until her sight cleared.

Greed. This hall had to be Greed.

Oddly, the hall appeared to be outside in a tropical paradise of a winding sandy beach, surrounded by shimmering, blue waters, great wooden ships moored in the protected cove nearby, and among playful waves, humans and demons cavorted, half or mostly naked. That wasn't the clue that tipped her off, though.

Like a pirate's cove, piles of sparkling jewels lay on tables, barrels, the sand, under palm trees, and among the many, many bottles of rum strewn about.

Opposite the cove, stood a building of large wooden beams, which was three stories high, with a winding balcony running along the front. It stretched on and on as far as she could see, same as the beach.

A necklace of pearls lay at her feet in the warm sand. The cream and pink jewels glowed in the sun, soft and inviting. Nothing had ever seemed so beautiful to her before. She stooped to pick them up.

Logan's hand smacked them away. "Don't let greed distract you from the fact we are being hunted, my sweet."

She had to blink, as if clearing her eyes again. The halls—and the sins—wormed their way in her head over and over. She couldn't stop it, but she had to try. She nodded and fell into step behind him. Hot sand dragged at her feet and the splashing waves called to her weary heart.

When this is over, I will find a deserted island in the midlands and relax on a beach like this one. I will lie back in the warm water and let it wash away every pain and hurt from this wretched hole.

From the beach, they crossed through a short line of tall palm trees. Her eyes landed on Logan's wide shoulders.

I could take him with me...

The idea sang in her heart.

They had to go to the midlands, Earth as humans called it, for him to find a hiding place anyway. What better place to start the hiding than a small island in the middle of one of the great oceans? If they could get there, they would deserve it.

"Logan," she said.

He stopped. They had reached the building—a brothel, judging from the noises within. Human women and men flowed in and out of the doors, often with demons, and people crowded the porch under the balcony, laughing, drinking, fighting, and having sex openly.

A blush warmed her cheeks. All along in the halls, humans and demons had been coupling in twos or more, but for some reason, it bothered her more here in the light of the sun.

An empty bottle came flying from a window and a fight broke out on the second floor. Screams and more bottles came raining down.

"Come on." Logan pulled her forward just as a demon fell to the ground where she had been standing. He groaned, drunk and in pain, but slumped over, unconscious.

They huddled in the relative safety at the beginning of the long porch, under the balcony's cover and away from the busy doors.

Chiara leaned back, letting the warm wood support her. Fatigue leeched her will to continue. Every muscle ached—even her bones ached.

She had almost died a few hours ago when Lucius crushed her ribs. The water from the Fountain might have healed her but it didn't replace energy or renew her spirit that had been battered for months.

Then, what had happened between her and Logan...by the Sleeping King of Heaven, she would be marked for life for that sin. And she wanted to do it again.

Her legs trembled, barely holding her up. Logan must have noticed.

"We have to get to the balcony. It's a guard walk, so dangerous, but it will be the fastest way through this hall. Can you climb?"

"I can fly."

"Not if you want to be discreet."

"Won't we be more visible on the balcony?" she asked. "If you want discreet, how about going through the trees?"

"The guards are hunting us, we have to go fast. They'll be looking for us in the trees, besides there are other things on this island designed to slow us, and those are also in the trees, on the beach and most especially in the brothel."

"I can climb—if you give me a boost."

"Wait." Logan leaned over the unconscious demon, who wore a kind of loose robe. He must have been a non-fighter class, Chiara determined. Beautiful to look at, unlike Dirk, but with leaner muscles and a lighter frame than Logan and the fighters she'd faced at the Fountain. Logan stripped him with a quick yank on the robe's hem.

"Interesting," she said. A pulling desire laced through her belly.

"Unfortunately, I have to put more clothes on you, as much as I hate it. Use this like a cloak." He motioned and she turned, catching the ends over her shoulders as he helped her cover her large wings.

Indeed, it felt strange for him not only to help her, but to clothe her. His touch was almost gentle.

"All right, up you go," he said brusquely. The sudden roughness of his voice after his soft touch surprised her.

She glanced over her shoulder at him.

His face was a hard mask. "They are coming."

Right. She put her foot in the hand he offered, realizing the cloak must be as much to protect him from her wings as to hide the wings from others. Hands on the wall, she nodded. She was ready.

A shout sounded.

"Fuck, get down!" They ducked into the flowering tropical bushes and peered through heavy foliage.

A lone guard, the only demon she'd seen in full armor, marched into the hall, boots scuffing in the sand. He put a horn to his lips and blasted a long, jarring note.

For a moment nothing happened. Chiara stretched her senses, but there was nothing to hear or see, or feel that was threatening. Only her pounding heart and the nearness of Logan, his scent of sandalwood, copper, and smoke with a hint of his natural musk. Her skin tingled, remembering his touch. She glanced at him from the corner of her eyes.

He was crouched and ready to spring, all warrior.

She swallowed. She wanted to fuck him again, right there in the bushes while a demon guard sounded the alarm to hunt them. She wanted to move in front of him and offer herself on all fours to him, to do what he wanted, however rough and hard he wanted.

Her hands curled into fists as she resisted touching him.

Lust.... She had to keep control of herself.

The guard didn't move, but there was shouting now, from inside the brothel. She cocked her head. Also from outside the hall. More guards were coming. She crouched lower, heart racing.

Rage glinted in Logan's eyes. He eased first a short sword and then a knife from their hilts with deadly silence.

By all the saints in heaven, he was hot. Her breath hitched at his magnificence. It took all her self-control to not push him to the ground, impale herself on his iron-hard cock, and ride him like a stallion into battle.

"Spread out, find them!" the guard called.

A legion of armed demons marched into the hall. More demons poured from the brothel, blinking at the bright light and strapping on armor and weapons over mostly naked bodies.

Human woman called out in protest at being left without their lovers.

I understand exactly how you feel.

Chiara breathed in, trying to not only calm her racing her heart but tamp down the desire budding in her core to fuck Logan. This was really not the time.

A sparkling light caught her eye at the edge of the cover provided by the bush. Buried half-way in the sandy ground was the largest emerald she had ever seen—easily the size of her fist.

She reached for it, watching for guards as well as Logan. The guards would definitely kill them and Logan might kill her if he noticed her prying a huge jewel loose from the ground.

It slid free from the earth, shining and flashing in the sun.

"Nice," she whispered. If only this teeny-tiny outfit Logan had stolen for her had pockets....

"Over there!" a demon shouted. "I saw something moving in the bushes!"

She was dead. She shoved the emerald into her bra before Logan could see it.

"Fuck," he muttered, edging backwards.

Several guards were coming their way. Behind them was the wall of the building and nearby lay the prone body of the naked demon.

Naked demon...

Chiara fished the emerald from her bra and chucked it at the demon's head as hard as she could. She had to hope that from this angle, none of the guards would see her or the flying emerald.

It hit his skull with a clank. Logan whipped his head between her and the demon who sat straight up and screamed.

Logan mouthed, "What did you do?"

She shrugged, as if innocent.

The guards rushed the screaming, confused demon who was now standing and searching for his robe, then they dragged him off to the door of the Hall of Gluttony.

"All right," Logan breathed. "Go. Now. We have to climb."

"They'll see—"

"Go, and if you stop for another jewel, I'll cut off your hand."

Crouching, she scuttled through the bottom of the bushes to the back wall. Guards had spread out further down the beach and trees.

If any of the stragglers turned, they would see her through the couple of palm trees that were her only cover. The balcony was three stories above her and the wooden walls gave few handholds. An angel forced to climb.... Only in Hell.

"A lift," she hissed over her shoulder.

"Get ready."

She placed her foot in Logan's hand, but before she could get any handholds on the boards, he lifted her up with so much force, she thought for a second she was flying.

Gritting her teeth, she held her wings in tight, and reached upwards. The roof's eaves rushed at her. She grabbed. For a second, she hung swinging, then, she hooked a leg around the edge of the building, onto the railing of the balcony.

For a long, heart-stopping moment, she was completely exposed to anyone who might look up at the building from the beach. Wings pressed to her back, and hopefully still under the robe, she refused to look up and out at any demons who might be looking back at her.

Leg on the railing, she reached to grab it. She pulled. Shouts sounded from the beach.

Did they see her?

Pulling, she threw herself forward. Then she was over the wooden railing.

She hit the floor of the balcony with a thump.

Through the rails, she watched Logan take a running leap first at the building to propel himself up and backwards, and then off a palm tree.

He arched back and reached for the rail, barely catching it before starting to fall again. He heaved himself up and with a grunt, flipped over the rail and to the floor next to her.

They panted, listening for cries of alarm.

"Head down, let's move fast," he said. She nodded and followed him, bent in half.

No sin would stop her now. Not greed, lust, gluttony, or any other.

He turned suddenly. "Chiara."

Without another word, his lips crashed on hers. Passion devoured her at the feel of his hands in her hair, his rough kiss bruising her mouth, the scrape of his stubble on her skin.

"Logan," she whispered. But she didn't know what she wanted to say, except... "I don't care that you don't love me, so long as you desire me as much as I desire you."

"Fucking hell, Chiara," he rasped, "The only thing I want is you."

Their eyes met, breaths mingled, and their hands were tangled together. This was how she wanted him. Desperately. Hungrily. The two of them against the world, no matter the odds.

She drew him in for a kiss, his hands bruising her hips as he moved her underneath him. She parted her legs. Her skin was electric with his touch—every nerve hummed in exquisite delight. His calloused fingers found the petals of her sex and a rush of moisture soaked them. She moaned as the pad of his thumb circled her clit, then his fingers plunged into her sex, crooking to find the hidden spot of pleasure. She arched into his hand, giving herself to him. Blistering yearning shook.

"Soaked," he whispered gruffly. "My angel is soaked for me."

All she could do was nod and whimper as pleasure spiraled in her sex, a feral need stealing her voice.

"I could make this last hours," he said, before running wet kisses along her collarbone and down the valley of her chest between her breasts. Her toes curled and she dug nails into his shoulders. "But we don't have hours. Hold on."

*** Thank you for reading! Not sure is this is the best moment for sex (nearly on the beach), but the seven deadly sins don't ever stop leading you to sin in Hell.... Hit the star if you enjoyed the chapter and the Hall of Greed! ***