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Harrowed in Hell
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The Troll Queen's Bride Lilac Wine
“What?” he asks, confused.“Don't think I don't like it, though,” I mutter. “I'm just... frustrated. With the whole marriage thing.”“You're always frustrated, dear. Your temper is legendary. Other demons quake at the mere mention of it.” He smiles slightly. “I remember when you were little, and you would build block towers. You would stack them so tall, taller than your head, and then be furious when they weren't perfectly aligned, or they fell. I would have to rebuild them. You are a perfectionist and demand the best in yourself and others.”“I am, huh?” I echo. “Well, being a perfectionist is a bitch. My expectations are never met. Look at my life, Sam: it's in ruins. A starving artist with an expensive college degree. No one will exhibit my artwork, on Earth anyways, your office be damned. My career as a painter is frozen like the lowest circle of Hell.”“No, Janet,” he says, voice fierce. “Your life has only just begun. Paint what you want. In truth, you are my queen. You belong b
The Troll Queen's Bride Scionwood
An open-air market surrounds us, wedged between the looming buildings of the street. Gray and black stone dominates, and the pale evening sun picks up the rich reds and yellows of the market tents. Fairytale spices scent the air, and everything is for sale: wishes, desires, sex, violence and hearts. Raw sounds echo from fighting rings as onlookers place bets on mythic creatures egged on by matadors. Vendors try and catch my eye, calling out as they offer firebird feathers and golden apples. Goblin fruit glitters under the early stars on the dusky purple horizon.Strange love makings are enacted in alleys and demonic passion plays block intersections. There are sellers of souls, dealers in death, and strange drugs that can bear a man away on the whimsy of dreams. Above all, there is dancing, a chaotic frenzy as the night market comes alive with music from all quarters of the city. It truly is pandemonium. I weave my way in between dancers, keeping my eyes open for restaurants and food s
The Troll Queen's Bride The Ball
Samael shrugs. “One man's Heaven is another one's Gehenna.”I look down at the cobblestones, my eyes weary. “I'll never find peace here. It’s not home…”Samael loops an arm around my shoulders, his cool robe extending to cover me in its comforting darkness like a security blanket from childhood. It is like being enveloped by a bat's wing, all silky sweet and warm.“Find some peace in me?” he says softly, leaning against me. I sigh, yielding to his suggestion. I close my eyes, allowing myself a minute of silence in these bustling streets. But just as soon as I close them, I collect myself, pulling away.“Impossible,” I say, my voice fiery. “I haven’t had dinner yet.”Samael's blue sea glass eyes shimmer like oceans. “I wish you would learn to trust me,” he whispers, regretful. He smooths the hem of his sleeve and sighs.“The only thing I trust you to do is prey upon me,” I say over my shoulder, walking off at a fast pace. “Oh, Janet, your hand in marriage! Oh, Janet, rule with me! Oh, J
The Troll Queen's Bride Enough
“Somehow, you snore like a foghorn. You look like Briar Rose, trapped in a thicket.” “Zzzz… eh?”“How delicate are the farts of a maiden who babbles in her sleep,,” Lussi drawls, naked, morning wood of his double serpent hemipenes crooked up like twin spears to the dawn. His prehensile cocks weep silky gold precum. My beloved husband idly watches me as the Arctic sun shines through the clouds of Vidagol. “Clear blue skies like sailor’s eyes,” he says. My husband’s amaranthine irises glow, his cheeks flushed as he draws the covers closer to my chin, then he tenderly leans into me, tracing the rise and fall of my breasts in fascination. “No lovelier creature has ever been made. I adore you. I worship you. You are all I want.”“Mrph?” I groan. My mouth stinks of sleep, and their is night grit in my eyes.He takes a deep whiff from my mouth. “Morning breath, as usual. Still cute.”I grunt and flip him the godsfinger. “Ten more minutes!” I groan, pulling the covers above my frazzled curls.
The Troll Queen's Bride Porphyry
He helps me up. “I'm carrying you, Jean. Don't struggle.”“No! That's humiliating!” I yell, a loud maudlin. He does so anyways, lifting me up gently. His robes snake around me to stabilize me, and he folds his sooty owl wings to shepherd me away from the public’s eyes. I flail about, too disoriented to put up a united front, and end up with a mouthful of owl feathers.“What did you think would happen, pounding back all those drinks?” Samael says, his voice dry. He carries me out of the bar and further into the dusky hubbub of the streets. “You don't have a demon's temperament for alcohol, and you've never been able to hold your liquor.”“It's called drowning your sorrows, asshat. Alcohol is my crutch. The problem is you. Let me go.”“If I do, you'll fall again.”“I'd rather fall than be carried by you.”Despite my protests, he keeps me aloft, gliding like an omen through the streets. His robes are cold against my cheek, so eternally cold like his skin, just like the grave of his flesh.
The Troll Queen's Bride Swan Down Arms
We reach the end of the hall. Samael utters a word in demonic speech and the great mahogany doors before us open. He enters the spacious personal library that fronts his quarters. Great windows peer out onto the moonlit courtyard that is surrounded by his rooms. The shelves rise dozens of stories into the air, built for winged beings, with narrow decks at each level that run the length of the library. Samael was thoughtful enough to install stairs for my use, seeing as I lack the necessary anatomy to fly between shelves. The library is one of the few treasures I now have, filled with books that span the ages and worlds. Classic human novels and new books line the bottom shelves, within easy reach for me. After human writers die, in Heaven, it’s said they continue writing even greater masterpieces, so books that never tasted mortal tongues are here – there are also a few damned romance novelists to boot. And of course, endless spell books.He's even included mysteries and psychological
The Troll Queen's Bride Tears of Lilit
I choose a Stephen King paperback – Salem’s Lot - from the lower shelves and struggle to decipher the pages, my curvy body sinking into the cushy couch. I’ve always been more size 12 than two, and look like those dumb pictures of Eve – soft sloping stomach like van Eyck’s Ghent altarpiece, pert breasts, and curving hips for days. The words of my chosen book all turn up like mush. The leather smells like the cigars Samael smokes, the spice of his orange and musk cologne, and rain. It smells like him. I close my eyes, inhaling the scent. Memories of him from my childhood haunt me, the man cloaked in shadow, the owner of my soul.The trauma of his words stretch across my mind: “How I will delight in breaking you.”I let out a soft cry, tears forming in my eyes. Here, in solitude, I can give in to the empty ache within me and cry over the childhood I never had, over the life I never will possess. I blot at my tears, cursing them.“Janet?” Samael asks with concern, suddenly materializing at
The Troll Queen's Bride Beasts
A breeze picks up, spreading the cherry blossom petals to the breeze like rice thrown at a wedding. Samael catches a handful idly, crushing them between his fingers. I cringe at his act of destruction. He winces at my reaction and discards the pulp.“I didn't mean...” he trails off.“I know,” I say, too quick. I chew my upper lip, my cheeks burning. I am embarrassed for my show of weakness and even more for lashing out with violence. “I- I shouldn't have hit you.”“It's nothing. I’ve withstood much worse.”Cricket chirps and the gentle buzz of cicadas stretch in the silence between us. Fireflies light the air like will-o'-the-wisps.“I - I wouldn't mind if you told me a story,” I say.Samael looks at me in confusion. “Really?”“Yes, really. Like you did when I was young.”He smiles tentatively. “If you're sure...”“I am.”He rises, coming to sit beside me. He drapes his cloak over my shoulders to keep me warm. “Thank you,” I say.“It's nothing. Shall I - do you want me to begin?”“Y
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