*Logan

Logan pulled Chiara upwards, to sitting with her back to him, wings outstretched, legs straddled across his lap. He had full access to her pink pussy this way, cock and fingers. She was utterly vulnerable to his touch and his grazed her swollen folds with his fingertips to find what would make her squirm and gasp. He wanted to savor every whimper he could drag from her throat. He would reduce her to a panting, feral thing, lost in utter delight. He pressed her clit, rubbing in light circles until the breath caught in her throat and she arched backwards.

Her wings sizzled against his skin, but he welcomed this pain that only she could give him. He was salivating with the need to fill her, pump her with his seed, but he wanted her to fall apart under his touch, become a gorgeous wreck at his command.

She gasped his name.

Closer.

His fierce desire to hear her scream shocked him. No other creature had ever enchanted him so fully—a craving to keep her carved through his gut, and he ignored the piercing knowledge that it was impossible.

So he would ensure she remembered only him through the years.

She rolled her hips, taking him in and milking him. She was intoxicating and the mix of pleasure-pain of being with her—his angel—sent his head spinning.

Little mewlings fell from her lips and he enjoyed every sound she made.

"Logan," she cried.

"Louder," he said.

She yelled his name. The walls of her sex squeezed him in a delectable vice. She shuddered, holding onto his forearms, and arched her back further. Twisting, she craned her neck and he kissed her, delighting in the sting of her teeth on his lip. She sucked and bit and bucked her hips. He ran a line of kisses up her cheek, moist with perspiration and breathed in the scent of her heavy hair.

Like this. I will remember her like this through the ages. Falling apart in my arms.

His gut and balls tightened at her climax, but he held back, letting her ride her pleasure higher, savoring her clenched muscles and feminine noises.

As she began to relax, he pushed her forward again, and drove his rigid cock as hard as he could to the apex of her sex. She cried out his name again.

He guided her hips as he impaled himself into her wet heat. She let him control every thrust, panting and whimpering, giving in to his command until another orgasm swept over her. This time, he couldn't hold back any longer. His name ripped from her mouth was too seductive a siren song to resist.

Bliss traveled up his gut, through his nerves, exploding white hot his head. While her wings stretched back and scorched his arms, marking his skin with an imprint of feathers, his seed spilled into her depths in ripples of pleasure.

She was his. He was hers.

Fuck.

This was going to hurt. The future was going to hurt and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

He had his orders.

They pulled slowly away. Chiara stretched out on her side and patted the boards in front of her, but Logan knew they didn't have time to rest. He gathered her head and shoulders into his lap, though, and placed a kiss on her forehead.

It unnerved him—the tenderness in that gesture. He couldn't afford any weakness if they were going to survive, but he couldn't stop himself, either.

"I burned you again," she whispered. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize." He couldn't say anything else. He didn't point out that his skin was already healing, erasing those blackened streaks that she had created on him. Part of him wished they would stay as visible scars to match the hidden ones that razored through his psyche.

He helped her stand. "We have to keep going."

"But the stage goes on and on."

"We keep walking." He was tired, and worse, he wasn't sure how to get out of here. There was a good reason he never deigned to come this way, but it was the only option for Chiara.

They stood to walk, Logan's audience hissing and booing in disapproval, and jerked to a stop at the same time.

There was a curtain in front of them.

She frowned in confusion. He shrugged—what could you expect in hell?—and pushed the heavy velvet cloth to the side. There was a door.

Logan pushed it open carefully, and stepped through.

The jagged edge of a dagger grazed his neck, pressing into his skin. "Got you," a demon said through clenched teeth.

Logan twisted, the blade cutting through his skin. Blood sprayed, but he caught the edge of the door and slammed it shut before turning to face his opponent.

Blood spilled to the floor. He pressed a hand to the jagged wound, which was long, but not deep. If he lost too much blood, he would pass out, and could die, especially if his enemy finished the job by putting that hunting knife in his chest.

"You've got shit from what I can see," Logan quipped. Keep it light when you were at the disadvantage. Thankfully, he had his genuine short sword back, replaced by crossing the threshold from the Theater. He drew it with his free hand.

The demons circled each other.

"Do I know you?" Logan asked. There were no other guards. Strange.

"You met my brother, briefly in Envy," the demon said, spitting on the ground.

"Perhaps."

"You put a sword through his chest and then you ran, coward, instead of facing me."

"Possible."

The door rattled behind him. He moved a foot to block it and keep Chiara from barging in. In the distance, he saw a guard crawling over the jagged boulders that lined the floor, in between the stalagmites of Sloth. Designed to mimic natural caverns, it was a strange hall, and deadly. Rocks occasionally fell from the ceiling. The floor opened up in yawning chasms unexpectedly, and the rushing noise of a river filled his ears.

"A fact," the demon continued. "Since then, I've learned why you were in such a hurry to leave and who you had with you."

"Did you?" Logan asked conversationally.

"Yes, the Dark Flame was brought low by Zeigfel for his crimes, held groveling and begging for mercy in a dungeon for months until Lucius made the mistake of bringing in an angel."

"Interesting." Groveling and begging, my ass.

"And the demon who catches the Dark Flame will be rewarded indeed," the demon continued. "I'm tempted to take you, if you are the Dark Flame, alive instead of avenging my brother."

"You know what the problem is with having a brother in hell?" Logan asked. "I should know. One of them never lives long."

The demon roared and swung his blade in rage, hacking at Logan's head. "Then you will die and I'll take the angel for my reward."

Logan blocked, sidestepped, and fast as a cobra striking, stuck his knife through the demon's throat. "There's the other problem," he whispered as the demon gurgled his last breath. "No one touches my angel."

The body dropped to the ground, a red pool spreading at Logan's feet. The door rattled and banging shook it to the frame. Logan opened with a flourish, motioning for Chiara to enter. She locked eyes on him, mouth contorted in anger.

"You left me—"

Throwing an arm around her body, Logan swung her behind a stalagmite and covered her protectively.

*** Thank you for reading! Hell really keeps you on your toes ... Hit the star and have a lovely one! ***