F*ck Me (Modern Cliches, #2)

The Visit to Hell

Where Maz and I go to Hell. No, literally. I go to Hell with Maz.

Its not as bad as you might have thought. Certainly not the most pleasant, far too warm, but not the fire pits and brimstone I had been expecting.

~~~

It took me about three days to rag on Maz enough to finally get him to prep for our trip to hell. After our date he had been especially attentive with me. He made me food, massaged me from top to bottom, gave me the jewels and wardrobe he had promised. He had looked utterly pleased with himself when I had nearly cried and told him I loved it all.

But during that time he had steadfastly ignored any and all discussions about needing to go to hell. It was a bother because I didn't want to be stuck with someone who truly didn't want to be with me. No matter how he was acting now, I knew that he had a life to get on with. There were times when his gaze would drift away and he would become lost in thought.

I had just been thankful when Sibby had apparently given him a talking to. I had walked into them both shouting. Well her yowling angrily and him shouting back at her in Latin. They had both ignored me as I had put the take out on the counter. It wasn't until I had held up a short rope I had snagged and stuffed into my purse that Maz had fallen silent. He had shuddered, his gaze on the rope, his pupils dilated as he moved towards me in a trance.

His strange rope fetish really worked well in my favour. All I had to do was show him some and he was following me around like a lost little puppy. A puppy that would try to tie me up with said rope but still.

After he had been fully fed he had grumpily stated he would work on getting us both to Hell safely so he could talk to his Elite about my marking. It hurt to think about but what was that saying? If you love something, let it go? I had to let him go. I wanted to keep him, I did, but I knew he needed to be where he belonged and, as much as I hated it, that wasn't with me.

That is what lead us to now. Maz had drawn a rather elaborate marking type thing in the middle of my living room in chalk and we were both staring at it. Me in curiosity, and him in rather resigned worry.

"Well?" I gestured to it and he gave a small shudder. "Should we go?" He was avoiding the outer lines and was shifting on his feet. He was silent for a few moments before I sighed. "We need to get this done." As much as I wanted to clean the mess up and never speak of it again so I could keep him to myself for the rest of my life, I knew that wasn't fair.

Maz looked at me, I could feel his gaze on my skin and I returned his look. "Don't be scared of me, my mellilla." His voice was pleading as he looked at me with a wary and worried type of panic and I shook my head. I was pretty sure I would be okay with him turning into a demon. I was getting used to him so I knew it would be okay.

I watched him swallow, looking me up and down as if he were memorizing my form before he stepped over the large outer line. A shimmering and burning light sprung up along the outer line and I watched in fascination as his form seemed to turn to ash as it burned away. I blinked as he stood tall, nearly eight feet, large black horns curled around his head from above his ears. His gaze was still dark, his red skin still held those black runes. I let my eyes trail downwards and I fought back an amused smile as my eyes landed on his junk. Still the same old Maz.

I was surprisingly okay with it. He was still Maz. It didn't matter that he had black claws on his fingers and he was nearly twice the size. He was still Maz, still my husband. I tucked some hair behind my ear. "Can I come in?" I watched as he gave a shuddering breath and gave a curt nod. I closed my eyes as I stepped through the wall of strange light and shivered as its heat passed along my body. I scrunched my nose up, taking several shuffling steps until large hands grasped me gently. "That better be you, Maz." I muttered it out before I cracked an eye open and glanced upwards.