*Logan

Logan couldn't sleep. Didn't want to, either.

All the things he could be doing—with Chiara, if they were free from this hole—kept running through his head. He shifted his position on the floor, wishing he could take matters into his own hands, so to speak.

He knew from watching her every day what her body would feel like against his. Eons of experience was a bitch. He saw her muscles flex and his hand told his brain what it would feel like to touch her as it flexed. The warmth of her skin. The taut power underneath the skin. The firmness. The softness. He could practically taste her as her scent floated in the air, taunting him, and it was driving him mad.

All the more so, because his fantasies of what he would do to her in his bed were only that. Fucking dreams.

He ached to free her. To get her out of here. More and more it was clear that his original half-baked desires of finding a deep, dark hole to curl up in and introduce her to the sinful pleasures of a demon lover were not going to pan out.

Damn it.

Fuck.

He grunted in anger, allowing himself this indulgence since Dirk and Zeigfel hadn't arrived yet and Chiara was asleep.

"Nightmare?" she asked, her voice slithering and cold.

He jerked involuntarily. That was not her voice. The mind games Zeigfel played with her didn't work on demons of Logan's class, but they worked terribly well on angels. He cleared his throat.

"No, I'm not sleeping. I'm ready for the day to begin, that way it will end sooner."

"So eager?" she hissed, her head still facing down.

Nausea stirred in his guts—him, the Dark Flame, who hadn't flinched when the Reversed Tower was decapitated and legions of Angelicum—angels in their angelii form—stormed in. One thing he hadn't considered was that she could change when he was chained to the wall with her—become tenebrist in the dungeons. She would tear him apart and devour him in seconds, according to the tales he'd heard of the last tenebrist.

"Chiara, look at me," he said. Gentleness wasn't a tone that came naturally to him, but he tried, for fuck's sake. He had to pull her away from choosing the darkness. "Look at me."

She stirred, as if waking up. Frowning in confusion, she took in the room with a quick glance. "Is it time?"

"Yeah, they'll be here soon," he said, hiding his relief. She was with him, his Chiara.

His Chiara.

His own thoughts cut razor sharp in his chest. What was he doing? What the fuck was wrong with him? She wasn't his, and never would, never could be. Angels considered demons as worthy only of receiving death at their swords.

She pulled herself slowly to sitting, every movement bringing a whimper to her lips. "Then let it begin."

"No," he said. "Listen to me. You will do as I say for once. This game of yours to push Zeigfel, to make him angry at you ends now. I can take it today and tomorrow and the next as well. I can help you, but you have to be quiet. Don't beg, don't cry, and whatever you do, do not goad that son of a bitch."

Chiara leaned back on the wall, the dirty shift she'd been given to wear barely covering her. "Why should I do what you tell me?"

"Because I will help you. I will get us both out of here."

"No," she whispered. "I don't think you will."

"Chiara, listen," he snapped, voice dropping. This was the tone he used with his brother before the end. "I can—"

"Stop." She waved dismissively. "Is it true this is the Pestilence's Cavern? How far under we?"

"How did you—" He didn't finish the question. "Yes. This is the Pit, what we call the cavern where the pestilences exist. They are at the bottom."

"And the ledge outside, is it the only way in or out? There must be some kind of ventilation system."

"There is, but not the kind you can crawl through, if that's what you're wondering. There is only one way to and from this room, it's along the Leper's Path. You would be exposed the entire way to the top, but that isn't topside. That's another level."

She nodded, but her expression was vacant, as if she was already somewhere else. "That's why you don't tell me what to do. I'm not getting out."

"Chiara, we have to work together—"

The ringing of steel boots on the stone ledge sounded from outside the door. The day was starting. The demon who entered, though, was not the one they were expecting. Logan suppressed the glimmer of hope that stirred—demons could smell hope and happiness like dogs smelled fear.

Come to think of it, demons could also smell fear. It had a fresh, faint scent like mountain streams. He almost salivated remembering it on his last victims.

Focus, asshole.

Lucius stood at the door in full military gear. There was going to be a battle.

Realization hit Logan. He could actually smell fear, and not only that, he smelled grilled meat. No wonder he was salivating. Lucius was afraid and he had come bearing gifts.

Logan suppressed his hope again, but not the grin that jumped to his mouth. His commander was going into battle that he was afraid of. It wasn't a coincidence he had come with food to the dungeon now.

"You planning on sharing, or is this part of my punishment?" Logan asked. He didn't need the food. Demons, like angels, could go their entire existence without food. In fact, many angels chose to go without as a test of their purity. Suckers. Delicious food was bliss. Why deprive yourself of the pleasures this existence had to offer? There weren't that many. The thought of tearing juicy meat from the bone after the months of going without was driving Logan's stomach mad.

"I have enough to go around," Lucius said. He turned to Chiara. "For both of you."

She didn't react.

"You should consider taking it." Lucius knelt in front of her and brushed stringy hair from her face. "My dear, you grow more beautiful every day. Zeigfel said you were nearly ready to become my bride. "

Every muscle tensed as rage coiled red hot in Logan's gut. He had to get free. "Where's the next fight?"

Lucius twisted to stand. "We are reinforcing the Fountain. The angelic leadership wants it back, but I intend to keep it. I address the troops today before they go."

"I want in. Lucius, let me in."

He sucked his at his teeth, deliberating. "You pissed me off more than Zeigfel with your stunt, to be honest. That kind of stunt from a grunt soldier can't be tolerated. Believe me, Logan, I want you there by my side, wielding the darkness."

A cold chill settled through Logan's bones. In a distant part of his mind, he had noticed Chiara taking note of the conversation, and registered her change of expression. It only occurred to him now, though, what Lucius' words must mean to her. Worse, Lucius noticed, too.

"Do you even know who your good friend Logan is?" He laughed, mocking her. "Yes, I know what you two talk about in the night, how you pretend to each be stronger than the other during the day, acting out a childish competition. I know all about it. But do you know his other name?"

Logan clamped his jaw shut. This would destroy the bonds he had tried to create.

"I know he's my enemy. That is enough. I know he is weaker than me. That is also enough." Her voice was low and soft, but nothing like the hissing sound she had made earlier.

Logan reeled. She had never sounded as true and sincere as in this moment. Her enemy. Weak. She reviled him utterly, and all this time, he had thought he was capturing her in a carefully laid snare.

"But do you know who he truly is? His other names?"

No.

Fucking no—don't say—

"He is the Dark Flame, my love. Look at him." Lucius took her face to force it toward Logan, but her eyes remained down. "Look at him!"

The secret he held from Chiara was thrown into the room, another way to make her suffer. Logan watched it break her. The truth was hurting her in ways blades never had.

She gasped in pain. Slowly, she dragged her eyes from the floor and up to where Logan stood by the wall. For the first time in the months they had been together, Logan saw tears rolling down her pale cheeks in the light of the fires.

*** Thanks as always!!! Hit the star if you enjoyed this one. ***