Her Wicked Angel (Her Angel Romance Series Book 6)

Chapter 1

It was a black day in Hell.

Asmodeus stood high above the bottomless pit, his amber gaze locked on the tall obsidian spires in the distance. Screams and sobs rose up from below him on the hot air, the grunts of their tormentors a harsher note in a symphony he so often enjoyed. The demons were busy today. He had been busy too until he had felt the call of his master.

As much as he had wanted to keep the Devil waiting while he had finished his latest masterpiece, he had dropped everything and left his castle in the wastelands via a portal that had brought him to the plateau above the bottomless pit.

And there he stood, debating how long he could put off crossing the cragged, grim landscape to the Devil’s fortress before his master lost his temper and called him again.

Asmodeus enjoyed pushing the male right to the limit of his patience. There was something satisfying about irritating his so-called master. The Devil would be able to sense his proximity and that he hadn't moved in close to twenty minutes. It was a game of wills he often played with him. Who would break first?

The call came again, stronger than it had been before, a tug he felt as a physical yank on his ribs, pulling him forwards towards the fortress.

A reminder that he was given freedom in Hell, but he was not master of it.

Asmodeus tipped forwards and plummeted towards the snaking wide ribbon of lava hundreds of feet below. Hot air rushed at him, sweeping his black hair back, battering his bare chest and ruffling his feathers. He stretched his obsidian wings to their full span, caught a thermal and levelled out just metres from the fiery surface of one of the principal rivers in Hell.

He gave a leisurely flap to keep his altitude and glided across the black, forbidding terrain.

Hell’s angels stalked the land below him in their demonic forms. Dragon-like wings furled against their huge black bodies and their claws made quick work of the whimpering lesser demons they were dealing with for their master. Some demons were little more than pests in Asmodeus’s eyes, and the eyes of his master. They caused more trouble than they were worth.

Asmodeus grinned, turned into a barrel roll and swooped down at one of the small scaly brown demons. He plucked it from the ground, had snapped its neck before it could even loose a shriek, and dropped it on the head of one of the Hell’s angels in charge of cleaning up the area. The male snarled at him, exposing sharp red teeth, the fires of Hell burning in his crimson eyes.

Asmodeus flipped him off and beat his black feathered wings, resuming his course. He weaved as he flew, following the thermals that would carry him to the Devil’s fortress without him having to expend any effort. What did his master want with him?

He didn’t bother Asmodeus often. Normally, when he called upon him, it was to give him an important mission. Torture a captive demon for information on the angels. Track down a traitor in one of the more dangerous regions of Hell. Drown someone in a lake of lava.

Kill one of the angels who protected the plateau, Heaven’s only sanctioned area in Hell.

Personally, Asmodeus couldn’t see why they had access to any part of Hell. No creature of this realm was allowed to set foot in Heaven unless they were shackled and contained in the prison there. How was that fair? If Heaven could station a small contingent of angels in Hell, then Hell should be allowed to station some of its men in Heaven.

Asmodeus’s grin widened.

He had sent his pet there recently. How had he fared?

Nevar had been a guardian angel until Asmodeus had found him snooping at the pool that recorded the history of the three realms. He had dealt with the curious angel, battling him until he was weak and then pushing him over the edge. The male was tainted now, turning as wicked as his new master. Asmodeus.