Cipher (Demonica Underworld #8) - Larissa Ione Page 0,10

you give in a little more, but with an emotional wound like that? You’ll succumb within days and give Bael what he wants.”

“Never,” he ground out. But each of her words chipped away at his conviction and tapped into his own secret fear.

“You fell for a reason, Cipher. You fell because you have no self-control, especially with females.” She used his blood to paint his skin, and revulsion started to swallow the runaway lust. “You know that if you give in to me now, you’re still the same piece of shit you always were, no matter how hard you tried to get back into Heaven.”

“Bitch,” he hissed. His fangs throbbed with the desire to rip out her throat, but his cock was throbbing for an entirely different reason.

Dropping her hand, she palmed his shaft, and he nearly jumped out of his skin. He stumbled backward out of her grip, and pain crushed his body in a vise of invisible pressure.

“When you resist my order, you suffer. Come to me and there will be only pleasure.”

“No.” He doubled over and shouted as another round of agony shredded him.

He’d been tortured on a weekly, and sometimes daily, basis since he’d been dragged here. He’d never been close to breaking. But Flail was somehow doing what the others couldn’t. She was ripping beyond his flesh and into his soul.

“How?” he rasped. “How are you doing this?”

“We all have superpowers.” Her hand came down on his neck, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t move. “Why do you think I’m called Flail? It’s because my special power, the one that makes me indispensable to anyone who pays me enough, is that little thing buried in your chest. With it, I can use my thoughts like a whip, flaying emotions open.”

Her superpower was horrific. Cipher had no idea what his unique fallen angel power was yet, but he hoped it was just as nightmarish.

And then, he swore, he’d use it to kill Flail.

Chapter Five

Cipher’s shouts of agony echoed in the dark halls as Lyre hurried toward his cell. The tower guard said Flail was with him, but if that were true, why would Cipher be in pain? She’d been sent to seduce him, not torture him.

Unless...

Shit.

She started past the cobra-faced guard at the cell door, but the big asshole blocked her. “Sssorry. Flail gave ordersss to not allow anyone in.”

“I’m not anyone,” she gritted out. “I’m his handler, and I outrank Flail in this.”

The guy’s slitted eyes narrowed even more in confusion, but he still shook his three-horned, hooded head. On the other side of the door, Cipher moaned. Time for a different tack.

Summoning every ounce of power she could muster, she used her one major play and dematerialized into a wisp of gray vapor. In her smoky form she could squeeze through any opening, and the keyhole was just perfect.

She heard the guard’s shout of “Hey!” as she slipped inside the cell and rematerialized.

When she’d fully formed, her jaw dropped at the sight of Flail, standing near the center of the small room like a dominatrix, her spike-heeled boots digging into the ice, her arms crossed under her bare breasts. On the floor, puddled like blood, was her corset.

Cipher’s glassy gaze jerked over at Lyre as he stood slumped against the icy wall, one hand clutching the ascerdisc in his chest. Fury knotted in her own chest as blood ran in thick streams from the device and from Cipher’s nose and mouth.

“Bitch!” Without thinking, she slammed an invisible fist of power into the other female’s gut, knocking her off her feet and into the remains of a giant fallen icicle behind her. “How dare you torture him.”

Flail laughed, flipping to her feet as if Lyre’s power punch had been a mere slap. To add insult to injury, Flail shot her a mocking smirk that all but screamed, Your powers are feeble and you’re a pathetic excuse for a fallen angel, and everyone knows it.

So embarrassing.

“I’m not torturing him.” Flail curled her finger at Cipher in a come-here gesture. “He’s torturing himself.” With a pained hiss, he staggered a couple steps closer to Flail, his hands clenched, rage burning in his eyes. Even his erection, engorged and pulsing with thick veins, seemed angry. Impressive, but angry. “The more he resists, the more it hurts.”

“He’s not torturing himself and you know it. You’re forcing him into it.” Lyre cursed. “This is sinister, even for you.”

Flail made a sound of disgust. “Such a human thing