Marcus' Prey

Chapter One

         

Hello all!

Oh my Charles, the first chapter of Marcus' story is here! Eeek!

Now, I know it's been a while, and I'm sorry! I had a major case of writer's block and college thought it would be funny to r u i n m y l i f e.

So, yeah. Sorry about the delay!

Now, this chapter is a wee bit shorter than I normally write, but it ended so nicely. This is all in Marcus' POV, but you'll meet our next lovely lady in the next chapter ;) What do you think she'll be like? I hope I manage to follow up Ammi with an equally loveable/hateable heroine!

Now, onto the story!

Enjoy,

E <3

~~~

"Ammi, for the last fucking time, I am not smuggling you into the party for your birthday. It's at a bar for God's sake! Luce would have my fine ass."

"And I'm twenty-three, not sixteen! It's perfectly legal!"

"You and I both know that mortal laws don't mean jack shit to that annoying angel you call a mate. And despite what you may think, I rather like my life."

She rolled her eyes for a solid thirty seconds, and for an instant, I thought her eyes might have gotten stuck. Then, she grinned at me, her pronounced white fangs flashing. Some might have mistaken her expression for one of mirth, or of concession. I knew better. Though her smile was friendly, her eyes were glacial. They were hard as stone, like cold flecks of jade. The smile might as well be a wolf baring its teeth.

Well, it half was.

"Marcus," she drawled, propping her leg up on the arm of her chair as she spoke, "do you, perchance, remember that you owe me a favor?"

I clenched my jaw tightly, knowing she had me by the balls. But it didn't do to show weakness to the Queen of Hell. She could, quite literally, smell fear, and she had the tenacity of a bulldog when she sensed victory. And all the time really.

She was a special sort of woman. Luce had a hard enough time wrangling her, and she was downright mellow now compared to the first time she'd been in Hell. When she'd first met Lucifer, her mate, she'd kneed him straight in the balls without mercy.

And, at times like this, it was difficult to remember that she was like a little sister to me.

Very, very difficult.

"I can't say that I do remember, Amirykal," I replied, sending her an assured grin, baring my larger fangs at her, though I knew she was one of the few people that I couldn't possibly intimidate. Even if she had known my true identity, even if I once again had the powers of the god of death. Hell, I'd seen her threaten the Egyptian god of Chaos, attempt to stab Odin, and when she'd first met God, she'd tried to order him around. She was just that stubborn.

"Don't make this more difficult than it has to be, Marc," she groaned, sitting up abruptly. "you're acting like Slate. And we both know that is the single biggest insult I could pay you."

I wrinkled my nose in agreement. The insubordinate daemon was no better than the soot I scraped off the bottom of my shoe. He was generally dishonorable, and he wasn't even intelligent enough to convince us to tolerate it.

"Fine, fine. But, in my defense-"

"What possible way could you defend getting wasted and showing up at my dorm at three in the morning?" She interrupted, throwing me a calculating look. "You're just lucky my roommate wasn't there since apparently drunk daemons sprout gigantic fucking horns and a tail."