Call of the Siren by Rosalie Lario Page A

painstakingly created those twelve men over the past several months. The incubus Asmodeus had been the last of those twelve. It was only fitting that the men who’d helped take Asmodeus from him would be used to strengthen his replacement.
    And delightfully poetic that Mammon would be that replacement. His new twelfth.
    “What should I do now?” Thorne asked from behind him.
    Belpheg had already waited far longer than he should to center his power. He feared if he didn’t act soon, his body would implode on itself. And the summer solstice would be upon him in just a few weeks. Which meant Mammon would have to gain all twelve of his powers soon if Belpheg were to have any chance of creating the circle by the deadline. Otherwise he’d be forced to wait three more months—three months he wasn’t sure he had.
    Thankfully, being near his clan scrolls and occasionally touching them helped to stabilize his abilities. They pulsed with remnants of power from prior generations of his people. But even this wouldn’t be enough to last him much longer. His clan’s essence grew weaker, and he grew shorter on time.
    “Belpheg?” Thorne’s tentative voice sounded out behind him. “What should I do next?”
    He allowed himself one soft stroke of the vellum scrolls before turning back to the demon. “Did you take care of the mercenary—the one who calls himself Sam?”
    Thorne nodded. “Yes. A few hours ago.”
    “Good.”
    The man had been a good, obedient servant, especially when it had come to implanting the device Belpheg would use to track the blond angel’s movements, but he’d outlived his usefulness.
    “You may leave for now.” He waited until Thorne had turned before calling out to him once again. “Oh, and Thorne…send Mammon in on your way out.”
    Mammon had begun to grow cocky in the months he’d resided here. Soon enough Belpheg would be forced to put him in his place. But for now, he would nurture him. Empower him.
    Use him like the puppet he was.
    …
    Mammon sat in the dining hall of Belpheg’s massive castle, inhaling his fifth meal of the day, when the dark fae’s bastard lackey found him.
    “How’d I know you would be in here?” Thorne smirked and leaned casually against the doorjamb of the wooden double doors.
    Baring his teeth at the inconsequential demon, Mammon didn’t bother to respond. Truthfully, he’d spent much of the two months since Belpheg had rescued him in here, regaining his strength through sustenance. His time rotting in the Council prison had worn him down more than he cared to admit. They’d kept him all but starved, knowing that was the only way they could control him. That, more than anything, spoke to how much they feared him.
    With good reason.
    He would make them pay. Every single one of them.
    Especially you, my prodigal sons.
    They’d dared turn him into the Council, and for that they would forfeit their lives.
    Thorne crossed his arms and made a show of examining Mammon. “I’ve gotta say, you look way better than the last time I saw you. Freedom must be agreeing with you.”
    Despite the fact that Thorne’s smug tone rankled, he had to admit the stupid demon spoke the truth. Between the steady meals Belpheg’s staff provided and the stock of succubi he kept on hand to siphon powers into him, Mammon was feeling stronger than he had in quite a long time. Lucky for him, the Council had recently released a cure to the toxin sex demons naturally secreted during intercourse. That meant Belpheg could transfer powers to him without fear of him dying…and that Mammon had his very own harem of beautiful women to fuck whenever he pleased.
    Yes, this was infinitely better than the Council prison.
    “What do you want?” he growled at Thorne, tiring of the way the hubrin demon stared at him. The demon was far too cocky for his own good. He thought he was better than Mammon, simply because Belpheg had recruited him to do his bidding. He’d learn soon enough just how far