18 Corpseboy Has a Boniface, Or Am I Bad at Picking Up Girls, Asks Satin

The following weeks fell into a rhythm – research with Arietta in the afternoon and training with Samael in the evenings. Michael made advances into the otherworlds. I found myself battling angels in Olympus, fighting seraphs in the aboriginal Dreaming, slaying cherubim in the Aztec afterlife, and pummeling ophanim in Avalon. I got drinks with the Morrigan and danced with Coyote, making rounds through different pantheons and reading up on their mythology afterward. It was a crash course in the supernatural, and I barely kept up with my studies.

February came. I hunched over my desk, studying methylation for genetics. Rosanna looked up from painting her toenails. She waggled her foot at me.

I laughed. "What is it?"

"Oh, nothing," she said, dipping her brush into the bottle of cherry red paint. She swiped a streak on her big toe.

"You've been humming Siouxsie and the Banshees all day. Obviously, something's up."

Finished adding a top coat, she closed the bottle. "You won't like it," she said in a sing-song voice.

"Try me."

She stood up and twirled around, lacy black skirt billowing. "Mo asked me out, and I said yes."

I groaned. "No, ew. Not my brother! Anyways, I thought you just had flings."

Rosanna laughed. "I'm making an exception for the meathead. His calves are to die for."

"I did not need to hear that."

Rosanna pouted. "You're no fun. You haven't dated anyone since Baxter. Live a little, mijita."

I looked at my feet. "Um, that's not entirely true."

"Wha?" Rosanna said. "You've been keeping secrets from me!" She flopped onto her bed and hung her head over the edge. She looked at me upside-down. "Dish."

I twiddled my thumbs. "It's embarrassing. I don't want to talk about it."

Rosanna pursed her lips. "Stop being mysterious. You're a pretty transparent person."

"Sam kissed me," I muttered.

Rosanna gaped. "Oh my god. The Robert Smith Tarot cards were right. I really am psychic. I should start my own hotline."

"No, it's not like that. I don't like him." I looked at the floor. "Okay, I do, but that's not the point. The point is that he's creepy, and rude, and a pile of bones. It's gross. I can't see myself with him. It'd be like dating a mummy!"

My roommate laughed. "But he's cute, when he's not the Grim Reaper. Didn't you say he has abs?"

"But they're just an illusion!"

Rosanna shrugged. "I mean, can you touch them?"

I sighed. "I don't know. I haven't touched Death's abs."

"But you want to?"

"I don't know. I don't know what I want!"

Rosanna rolled onto her stomach. "Do you think his skin would be cold? Like a vampire's?"

I snorted. "Like a corpse, you mean. He's pale as paper."

My roommate bit her lip. "Do angels… can they even?"

I raised my brows. "Wha?"

Rosanna bit her lip. "You know. Can they make angel babies?"

"Well, considering I was almost raped by one, yes." I shivered at the memory of Jeqon.

Rosanna's eyes widened. "Sorry. I didn't mean to remind you."

I balled my hands into fists. "It's fine. I'm going to kill those bastards if it's the last thing I do." I shook my head. "Immortals see humans as objects. The Claimed are treated like commodities. Asmodeus has a huge harem of them, and Rofocale uses her Claimed as militia. They're servants, fucks, or both. I know Sam doesn't have any Claimed, but I can't stop wondering if he sees me the same way - as a means to an end."

Rosanna pillowed her head on her arms. "I don't know. He went to your art show, and he keeps sharing things with you – his favorite movies, his horrible band. Didn't he get you a sketchbook for Christmas?"

I glanced at the untouched gift on my shelf. "Yeah. I don't want to use it. It's too pretty."

Rosanna sat up and walked over to the sketchbook. She traced the cover. "Roses and crows, eh? That's morbid."

There was a light knock at the door. "Come in!" I said.

Divya opened the door, followed by Seth Yoon, her on-again off-again boyfriend. She had a bottle of sparkling cider in hand. "We're watching a movie, and you're both invited."

We watched it in the lounge and drank the cider from plastic cups. Rosanna texted Mo, and as the two couples beside me cuddled, I got a sinking feeling in my gut. Would I ever have a normal relationship, now that I was something more than human?

My friends were deeply absorbed in the movie, but my mind drifted.

Something pecked on the window behind me. I looked to see Gog and Magog perched in a tree beside Samael. He pressed his nose to the glass. I rolled my eyes.

"Erm, I have to go, guys," I said.

"But we're about to watch the dance interlude," Divya said.

"I'll watch it later, okay?" I went to my room to get my coat, then went down to the porch. Samael was on a rocking chair, smoking. Gog pecked for bugs in his hair.

He exhaled a snake of smoke. It slithered up to the clouds. "Hello maggot." Gog bit his ear. "Ow?"

I looked at the moon. "It's late."

He rocked in his chair. "It's 9 PM, and it's Friday. The night is young. Shouldn't you be at a kegger?"

I frowned. "Why are you so fascinated by keggers?"

He stubbed his cigarette out under his boot. "It's Valentine's Day tomorrow."

I was a deer caught in the headlights. "It is?"

He laughed low.

"Um, I forgot," I said.

He rose, hair a dark curtain. "I'll help you remember."

"Sam."

"What?" He cupped my face with a single hand. "You looked lonely. By yourself in a crowd."

"There were only four other people?"

"It doesn't matter. I know that feeling." He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.

I drew back. "It's cold out here."

"Then let's go somewhere else."

Before I could protest, he summoned a portal, and we were sitting on his bed. His room, usually a disaster zone, was almost clean. He hastily swiped a belt to the floor, then snapped his fingers. The lights dimmed.

"This is corny as all get out. Are you trying to seduce me?" I laughed, inching away from him.

He lay down on the comforter. "No. I wanted to show you something."

"I think you're trying to seduce me. You even kind of cleaned."

"No! Look. This isn't really my room. Well, it is, but it isn't. We're in the Cave of Souls." He patted the pillow next to him. "Come here."

I narrowed my eyes. "Are you sure you're not trying to seduce me?"

He blew air through his teeth. "Will you just trust me!"

"Fine." I lay on my back beside him and stared up at the bed canopy. "What now?"

He took my hand in his. "Close your eyes."

I did.

"Now open them."

The room was gone, leaving only the bed. Darkness stretched around us – rich and cool, like the embrace of Mother Earth. We were in a cave, if caves were cathedrals, and pews carved of stone. Candles lined the stone, rising up the walls into oblivion. Some were full tallows, others dying flames. One melted to burnt wick, and the wax reformed itself into a pillar, lighting anew. It smelled like possibility, a great untapped well of things to come.

"Where is this?" I said.

Samael smiled, his eyes like glaciers. "The base of the Tree of Knowledge. It's a place out of time. It has always existed, yet never will be."

Sure enough, roots hung from the ceiling, dripping water onto stalagmites. I caught a droplet on my hand.

"What are the candles?" I asked, feeling the answer in my bones.

Samael looked upon them fondly. "Souls. Aren't they beautiful?"

"Yeah…" I watched another tallow die. "What happens when they go out?"

"They pass on, and another soul takes their place." He squeezed my hand. "Do you like it?"

"It's quiet." I breathed deeply. "The air's nice. It clears your head."

Samael threaded his arm under my waist. "I come here when I need to think. In this cave, I'm surrounded by innumerable loves and joys. It makes me feel less alone."

I looked into the deep pools of his eyes. "I like it when your façade's gone. You're an old soul. Like, bajillions of years old."

He pulled me close. "My façade?"

"Your prickly exterior. When you're like this, you're actually tolerable."

He rested his chin atop my head and folded his wings around me. "Tolerable. That's an improvement from scaring you."

"You're moving up in life."

He laughed. "I could spend all night here. It's so zen."

I thought back to Rosanna's words and noticed that his skin, though not as hot as a human's, was still mildly warm. I absently wondered about his abs.

"What's on your mind?"

I noticed his shapely biceps. "Oh. Deep, deep thoughts. The usual."

He traced lazy circles down my spine. "My little philosopher."

I toyed with one of his feathers, hoping he didn't notice. I'd always wanted to touch them. "I'm not yours. And I hate philosophy. It's a waste of time."

"All pursuits are worthwhile if you love them – ow!"

I dropped the feather I'd plucked. "Whoops."

"Why did you do that, maggot?"

"It was tempting."

"If that's the case." He slid his hand down my back and fondled my ass.

"Sam!" I said, swatting his hand away. "The hell!'

"But it was so tempting."

I blushed. "I take back my old soul comment. You're a frat boy."

He grinned. "I do love keggers."

I rolled so my back was facing him. "Just when I thought we were having a conversation, you act like a pig. I can't even talk to you."

He caught my hand in his. "Don't say that. You can always talk to me."

I pulled free of his grasp. "About what? You think everything's a joke."

His breath stirred the fine hairs on my neck. "I don't think you're a joke." He crossed his arms around my waist, trapping me. "I take you very seriously."

I sighed. "What are we? I mean, do demons even go on dates? Don't they just corrupt girls or tempt them or whatever?"

Samael laughed. "We do what people do – some look for quick fucks, others get married. Look at Beelzebub, he's tied to the whipping post. There's a widely varied spectrum."

I turned to face him. "But what do you want from me?"

"To see you smile." He tweaked my nose.

I batted his hand away. "Don't do that. It's annoying. Everything you do is annoying."

"Mmm." He kissed my brow. "Your soul tastes like absinthe. It's intoxicating."

"You lied. You are trying to seduce me."

"Father taught me to never lie. Too bad I never listened to Him."

He trailed his mouth down my jaw, to my lips. I breathed in his scent, like autumn spice. Heat sprang from my solar plexus. I knitted my arms behind his shoulders and leaned into him.

His fingers skimmed my outer thighs. I brushed hair from his face and sucked at the hollow under his throat. He dug his fingers into my skin. Samael sought my lips with urgency.

"Say something seductive then, if you're going to be a lothario," I teased.

"I want you like Hell's fires want water," he said.

I nipped his ear. "Eternal damnation. What a turn on."

"Shannon," he exhaled. He eased me onto my back and set to unbuttoning my sweater. He paused at the sight of my coral bra. "I hate pink," he said.

I ran my hands down the muscles of his back. "It's my favorite color."

"Then clearly I have bad taste in women." He cupped my ass and ran his tongue down the rise of breast exposed by my bra. I reacted as expected.

"You're predatory even during hookups," I said.

"I could eat your soul. You're delectable."

"Great. I'm in bed with a cannibal."

He gave a purr of laughter.

Samael unhooked my bra and guided it off my shoulders. His mouth circled my breast's peak. He breathed lightly on my nipple then rolled it with his tongue.

I dug my hands into his back, electric zings shooting through my nerves. A pulse of pleasure built in my core and I ached in places that were not very polite to ache in. He lowered me onto my back and kissed a trail to my navel, then pinned my hands behind my head with his wings. It felt like I was holding feather dusters the wrong way.

He focused on the jut of my hip bone while cupping my breasts. Samael moaned, which was almost as sexy as his grunts. He hadn't grunted lately. Maybe he was less exasperated with me?

He looked up, and his pupils had swallowed his eyes, sucking in light. Well that wasn't Satanic…

His smile was crooked. "I didn't have dinner," he teased, unzipping my jeans.

"Then go get some pasta or something. I'm sure skeletons need carbs."

He zeroed in on my panties.

"That kind of meal?"

Samael slid off my pants and tossed them onto the floor. Gently, he spread my legs, then pressed his lips to my inner thigh. He nipped me.

I knotted my hands in his wings. "You're corny as hell."

He nestled his head between my legs. "I've been called worse."

He smoothed his hands over my knees and began kissing me, working his way up to my groin. Pressure built in my stomach as he mouthed my nether lips, running his tongue over the wetness flowing from my core.

"Fuck," I gasped.

He groaned, then ripped off my underwear. "You taste almost as good as absinthe."

I jabbed him with my foot. "You're such an alcoholic."

"Relax," he grunted. Finally, he grunted again.

He slid a finger in, then flicked his tongue over my clit. Heat seemed to run from his mouth to my skin.

I drew in a sharp breath. "Oh God," I said, digging my fingers into the joint of his wings.

He stopped. "You just had to say my Father's name, didn't you? What a turn-off."

"I'll tell you where you can take your daddy complex and shove it."

He grinned, then began anew.

Samael's tongue was serpentine, a testament to his demonic nature. The friction built and built. I shuddered as time stretched on. Aching, aching – too much. I arched my back, leaning into him.

"Shit!" I cried out, on the verge of orgasm. He plunged his tongue into me and brought me over the edge. It was like a supernova across my vision. Like a good kind of supernova. Not one that incinerates you or whatever.

My orgasm cleared, and I found myself spooned by Samael. He stroked my hair. "This would be so much better with my scythe," he whispered.

My eyes bulged. "Only if you want me to castrate you!"

"I was joking. Jesus Christ bleeding on a cross, you're no fun."

I rolled over, facing him. "Is Jesus Christ real? Like, is he the Son of God, or was he just a carpenter who heard voices?"

"We're all children of the gods. I can't tell you everything, Shannon. That would violate your free will…"

He then went into a lengthy explanation of the mechanisms of free will that I tuned out of. Samael's erection pressed into me, hinting at further possibilities. Mostly just possibilities of getting him to shut up.

He moaned as I reached under his robe and teased his shaft. "Are you sure? Aren't you tired?" he asked, his eyes hooded.

I untied his typical black robe. Why did the stupid thing have so many knots? "You're a skeleton half the time. Jumping your bones seems like the natural next step."

He snorted. "You think you're clever with your insults. I think you're just ashamed to admit you like me."

I smiled. "Shut up, Sam. That was a good pun."

"No, it really wasn't."

"At least my joke repertoire doesn't consist of gallows humor."

He was about to issue a retort when I mouthed the head of his cock, mostly to get him to shut up.

Samael sucked in air. I licked its head, and he razed his wings up my back. Creepy feather duster sensation again. I tried to ignore it.

"Shannon," he moaned, running his hands through my hair.

I worked his shaft, licking the precum from its tip. I kneaded his ass with my hands. His breaths came hard and heavy. Finally, he grunted. Like a sexy grunt, not a caveman grunt. Was it weird to find a dude's grunts attractive?

"Do you have a condom?" I asked.

His eyes simmered. "Getting pregnant by a demon is more complicated than that."

"Oh," I said. "Well then."

He sat up, stroking my back. "Shannon, I don't want you to feel pressured."

"I don't."

Samael cupped my breasts and rolled his thumbs over their peaks. "In that case, it would be my pleasure."

He guided me onto my back and devoured my neck with kisses. Gently parting my legs, he teased my clit with the head of his cock, creating delicious friction. I gasped as he grinded against me.

He worked himself into my core. I moaned.

Samael pumped into me at an agonizingly slow pace. I raked my nails down his back. He cursed, picking up speed until he was going mercilessly fast, rubbing against my clit and sending electricity through my limbs. Time ground to a halt in the Cave of Souls. The candles flared, bathing us in light. I wondered if having sex in front of all these souls was exhibitionism?

He scooped me up with his wings so that I was on his lap. My hips met his thrusts, and my guts flared. He buried his head in the crook of my neck and breathed deeply, murmuring in an old, old language. Maybe it was like Enochian?

Tension built until it spilled out between us like pearls from a broken necklace. I shuddered, spent.

Samael nestled me against his chest. Light snoring came from him.

I looked down to see his eyes closed. He was firmly asleep.

"Sam?" I said, prodding him.

He refused to budge. "This is perfect." He went back to snoring.

I looked up at the roots suspended above us. "I'm not tired."

He placed two fingers on my brow and slipped sleep into my mind. I was knocked out within seconds.

His words drifted across my sinking hearing:

"I love you, maggot."