Prologue

"I'll kill you, by the Almighty, I SWEAR!" My scream echoed in the cobblestoned room. I could feel the moisture against my back, but I wasn't sure if it was blood or the dark moldy dampness that stuck along the stones. With my hands in rusty shackles pulled above my head, I struggled, sweat and blood dripping down into my eyes when he hit me again.

"Emmm, oh yes, please, struggle more, MORE!" he said, probably thinking I was trying to struggle to get free. His smooth and wicked tone gave me goosebumps. He was sick, twisted, and too damn handsome.

I kept struggling to buy time. King Lou knew I wouldn't stay dead. Instead, he'd kill me, and a damned soul would take up residence, bringing me back good as new. I hated souls of the damned, and unlike souls from heaven, the damned felt foggy in my head. Years of torture, and past lives of being murderers, thieves, and degenerate slime, gave them the power sometimes to cloud my judgment. All that hate is a powerful thing.

My clothes were ripped, and though rumors say Oblivion is nothing but fire and brimstone, there was no heat in this cave of a dungeon. I was sweating but freezing all at once, so the rumors were wrong. King Lou, the lord of Oblivion, caught me. I foolishly chased a demon down his hole when he tried to kill the Other I was protecting. Landing in the Kings lap, I knew I had made a foolish mistake.

"You'll never kill me if that's your plan, so keep having your sick fun. Heaven already knows I am here, and soon you'll have a war on your hands!" I spat at him. I prayed somehow word would reach Heaven that I had made another horrible mistake. I was starting to think my mess-ups were just terrible perks of the job as a bodyguard. Right now, I could use someone to guard my body.

"Haha, but my love, we are having so much fun! I know you'll give in eventually. There will always be pain with pleasure, so why resist me? I could make you my Queen. We could rule together. Does that not sound fun?" King Lou wasn't convincing me with those words, but with his looks, I might be swayed to the dark side.

His large emerald green eyes framed in almost alabaster skin, broad straight nose, and a pointy chin sporting a bit of fuzz. His skin looked like satin pulled hard over muscles. I needed to wake up, find a way out of here, or end up on a dog chain at the foot of this Adonis's throne. For once, I liked my job but hated I couldn't die.

I was starting to pass out, and he had ripped my clothes off seductively, playing an abusive lover, then cut me gently in random places along my body where my flesh was exposed. He even traced his tongue along those cuts to heal them, ending with a kiss. He was having fun, and I was not.

"You're crazy! I would find sticking a hot poker in my butt much more enjoyable than playing with you. Do you want a war, Lou? Keep this up, and once I am free, I'll cut off that manliness to feed to your hounds! LET ME GO!" Screaming at him, I looked at his crotch, trying to envision if I could do it, and he noticed where I was looking. I looked up at him to feign bravery and force a determined look on my face, then smiled. He finally showed a weakness. Covering his manly part with a free hand, he let a little anger slip.

"I will NEVER let you go, NEVER!" Slamming the knife down on the stone slab table, he turned towards the water bowl and grabbed a dripping cloth. I noticed how nice his butt looked in jeans, and found it funny a Lord of Hell was standing in front of me shirtless with a pair of worn jeans on. His golden locks barely reached the tops of those jeans. An idea came to me.

"You know, Lou, there are better ways to convince me. I don't do well with being restrained with severe threats and being cut. I'm more of a fried chicken, beer, and movie type of gal. Get a few beers in me, and I can agree to almost anything." I said it as girly as I could muster, praying for time or a savior. I would play it cool, be interested, and get the chance to get out of these shackles. I couldn't call on my aura or wings, but I would find a way to escape. It's only ever in Heaven, and now Oblivion, that I can't use either. I needed to find out why but now wasn't the time.

He looked at me after that, then smiled as he wrung the water cloth out on the cold stone floor. His smile chilled me but, at the same time, gave me hope that maybe he would fall for it.

"Movie? Beer and food? Ah, are you not having fun, my sweet?" he asked casually.

"Rusty shackles, blood, cold damp dungeon, not the setting that screams romance. If you want my undying devotion, you should try harder. Let me go. Get me clean clothes and a beer, and then we can talk." I responded with as little sarcasm as I could. I needed to keep my temper and defense on the back burner for this.

He walked over to me and dabbed the sweat and blood from my face. Being careful not to put force on the cuts, he made slow movements in cleaning around them. I watched his face closely. If it weren't for him being the king of hell, I would genuinely be attracted.

He caught me watching and turned those green eyes to mine. Half cocking his smile, he leaned closer to my face.

"So special you are, my love. I can keep you here forever to play with me. The Almighty sure put a lot of effort into you. Sad for him to lose a creation like you." He turned, saying this as he walked away, then stopped and looked back at me.

"Sad for him, but such a blessing for me." He suddenly had a lustful look feeding into his smile as he said this.

He walked over to a high-back wooden chair sitting by the stone table and sat down, crossing his long-trim legs. He started bobbing his foot as he rested his elbows and tapped his fingers on the arms of the chair.

"Women, demons, you name it, are all drama queens in this place! They fight over me, gossip over who's my favorite, and try to seduce me! The moment I start to play with them, they beg for me to stop, and when I go a little overboard, they'd rather die than tough it out. They never try to get to know the REAL me. I have feelings. I have wants and needs. I would give them whatever their heart desired if they played nicely. But noooo, they want me to give, give, give without receiving. The moment I break them, they stay broken." When his verbal tirade ended, he got up fast; before I knew it, we were nose to nose—his breath smelt like honey.

"Not you. You beg to be let go, threaten me, and tell me you would be more pliable with food, beer, and a movie? You want me to seduce you!? Convince you? Tsk, tsk. I believe it should be the other way around, Ayda. You should be begging me to touch you, lay with you, let me into you, not the other way around, love." Saying this, as he turned around to sit back down, he picked up the knife and pressed it into his left, long, middle finger, turning it to the point a tiny pearl of blood appeared. I watched in disgust. I tried harder to sway him into getting me out of these shackles.

"Romance is a 2-way street, buddy. If you have emotions or feelings, as you say, me trying to use you as a piece of party meat wouldn't be fair. How about you let me go? I'll even put on a dress if you want, we have dinner like normal, er, people, then sit down and chat? You sent me straight to the bowls of the dungeon once I got here. I haven't even had a proper look at the place. Not every day a girl can see a King's quarters, you know." I responded enthusiastically, convincing him I was interested in what he had offered earlier.

He looked up from his sick amusement, and a somewhat everyday look of indifference crossed his face before he shrugged and stood up.

"Okay, if you wish. I warn you, sweet that the final destination of my glorious abode tour will be my grandest bedroom!" Saying this and reaching into his jean pocket like a giddy schoolgirl, he pulled out the key to unlock the restraints. I did it, but I waited and would bide my time before escaping.