Grave Consequences (Hellgate Guardians Book 2)

by Ivy Asher

  “I know that!” Taz snaps, even as he doubles back, going the other direction.

  As soon as my inconsiderate sperm donor is gone, I look up at Echo. “Help. I’ve fallen off the toilet and I can’t get up.”

  He chuckles as he comes forward, but his shadows beat him. They come off his skin and slither over my wing, helping to unwedge it from being half around, half behind me. Echo grips my arms while his shadows wrap around the other wing, and then he manages to pluck me out like I’m a difficult wine cork, placing me on my feet with my pants around my ankles.

  I would be embarrassed, but I didn’t pee myself, which means I’m counting this as a win.

  “Okay, I need a little privacy, otherwise I’m gonna squirt in a way you guys don’t want,” I say, reminding Crux of the delicious things he and Echo taught my body how to do.

  Crux and Echo smirk, while Jerif cocks his head. “Wait. She can squirt in a way we do want?”

  Crux grabs the lava demon by the shoulder and spins him around, pushing him on the back so the three of them can walk out. “Yep. Echo and I will tell you all about it,” Crux says with amusement before shooting me a wink and closing the bathroom door behind them.

  I sigh and sit down on the porcelain throne again, quickly finishing my business. I’m able to empty my bladder and wipe this time before any more demons interrupt. I quickly wash my hands but take a minute to look in the mirror and digest Taz’s announcement.

  My mother.

  He knows a way to find out who my biological mother is.

  I’m filled with trepidation, but also with burning curiosity. The other Abdicated made it seem like I’m this strange purple creature with mysterious unexplainable origins. And the scythe...no one seems to know what the scythe is all about other than to toss out the Grim Gatekeeper theory.

  But maybe now I’ll finally find out exactly what I am and where I come from. I just hope this truth isn’t going to be a bomb that blows up my new life more than the demon bomb did. I’ve only been living the Hellgate Guardian life for less than a day, but I’m already loving it.

  I make my way back to the dining room where the guys are congregated once more. Tazreel not only has a full glass of demon spirits that Strut poured for him, but the Pride Abdicated is also eating my Chinese chicken salad.

  My stomach growls angrily at the sight, but Iceman cocks his head to the side, showing me a new place he set aside for me. With a grateful smile, I walk over and take a seat beside him and Echo before quickly shoveling food into my mouth. I know that when Taz tells us what he came here to say, I might not get another chance to eat or might not even want to.

  “So…” I say nervously, trying to broach the subject and make it past that humiliating moment in the bathroom. “Are you going to tell me about how you can find my mother?”

  He sniffs loftily as he picks at my food with his fork, shoving some of it aside on the plate like it’s not good enough to grace his Abdicated mouth. “I’ll tell you when I’m good and ready,” he says. “You were very rude upstairs. I’m not sure if you deserve to know.”

  I’m unable to stop myself from rolling my eyes. Now he’s going to sulk and withhold his discovery because things didn’t go his way. He probably wants me to beg for information now. Fucking Pride.

  The guys eat calmly, drinking some demon spirits themselves as we wait out the Abdicated asshole. “Don’t you have any regular old human wine?” I plead to Iceman. Because I could really use some Moscato to help all this sulking sperm donor crap just slide right off my back. My nerves are suddenly feeling fucking shot, I wouldn’t even scoff at a red or a cringe-worthy chardonnay at this point.

  “Apologies, we don’t stock human liquors here,” Iceman tells me.

  “Try the demon spirits again,” Crux offers, leaning his tanned, muscled arm forward to push an empty glass in my direction.

  I grimace. “No way. I’ve tried that stuff twice, and it was awful both times.”

  “Yeah, but we think your demon side was still a little blocked before you went to Nihil. Try it. We have a bet going about whether you’ll like it now,” he urges with a wink.

  I bite my lip, hesitating for a second, eyeing Grumpy Lurch as he comes around and fills my glass all the way to the brim, like he’s very excited at the thought of me having to choke down this glass full of ashy ammonia shit.

  “Thanks,” I say dryly as he finishes topping me off.

  “I aim to serve, mistress Delta.”

  Oh, it’s mistress Delta now instead of the help, huh? I give him a knowing smirk, because this bastard is good in front of the others, I’ll give him that.

  “Thanks, GL,” I tell him with a wink.

  I slide the cup toward me, noticing that it’s so damn full I won’t even be able to pick it up, not without spilling it. Which, of course, was Grumpy’s MO. He wants to make this as difficult on me as he can so he has another reason to be pissed at my messiness. But he has a huge error in his way of thinking. He thinks because an Abdicated is here, I won’t slurp this stuff like a toddler learning to eat chicken noodle soup for the first time, and he’s wrong. So wrong.

  As soon as the cup is at the edge of the table, I lean down, press my lips against the edge, and sluuuuuuuuurp!

  Taz and GL look like they’re going to have a heart attack.

  Echo smirks, Crux snorts, and Jerif looks at me with his arms crossed in front of his chest like he loves how antagonistic I’m being. Iceman winces a little, but I shoot him a wink, silently reminding him that Taz won’t do shit to me.

  Distracted, I’m all ready with my fork, poised to shovel chicken salad in my mouth to get the taste of the drink out as fast as possible, but then the taste actually hits me.

  “Oh my Hellgate,” I groan before leaning forward and slurping more.

  It’s fucking delicious.

  It tastes like butterscotch and fresh bread rolls, and it...tickles as it slides smoothly down my throat. As quickly as I can, I lift it up and down the whole thing like I’m a baseball player downing a bottle of Gatorade.

  “Ha!” Crux claps a hand down onto the table. “I knew it!” he says victoriously.

  I wipe my lips with the back of my hand and hold my glass up. “Fill ’er up, Grumpy, and keep ’em coming,” I say brightly.

  With a glower, he refills my glass, and I bask in the taste and hum a little in happiness as warm, soothing spirits hit my system. “Fuck, this is good. I can’t believe how good this is!” I say excitedly to Echo. “Here, try some!”

  His grin stretches wide. “I already have some, remember?”

  I look around the table and remember that, yes, they do already have some. “Oh, right. Well, let’s make a toast!”

  I raise my glass in the air, waiting pointedly until they all do the same. Jerif and Taz don’t do it though, because they’re stubborn, prideful jerks, and I expect nothing less. “To demon spirits tasting fucking epic!” I say before clinking my glass against the others as they chuckle, humoring me.

  I drink the delicious liquid down and shake my glass in the air for GL. His heavy brow pulls down into a deeper frown as he comes forward, tipping the bottle over and emptying the last of its contents. “That’s all there is,” he tells me, then turns on his heel and leaves the room, probably to prevent me from asking him to open another bottle.

  I sip the last of it, trying to savor the taste. “Mmm. I can’t believe how awful this stuff tasted before, but let me tell you, this is good shit,” I say appreciatively. “I wish we’d had this stuff at the bar I worked at. I would’ve made amazing tips, and then that fucker, Sean the Shithole, wouldn’t have closed the place and fired my ass after calling me a bitch.”

  “Who called you a bitch?”

  My eyes fly up to Jerif’s angry tone, and I blink, his words filtering in like my ears and my brain are on some sort of delay. “Oh, my old boss. He was a douche.”

  “He’ll be dealt with,” my lava demon says suddenly, looking perfectly serious and le
thal as he leans back in his chair, the fire in his eyes matching the tones of his hair. I notice Taz out of the corner of my eye giving Jerif an approving nod and then catching himself doing it and taking a big gulp of his drink to try and cover it up.

  I snicker and give Taz a knowing look when his gray eyes snap to mine. “Ooohhhh,” I announce, suddenly excited. “Can we go full Paranormal Activity on Sean the Shithole’s ass?” I ask Jerif. I can’t stop staring at his eyes and hair, like some drunk staring at the campfire as if it has the meaning of life in its flames. Or maybe the meaning of life is just hidden in his pants.

  With that thought, I drop my gaze and stare drunkenly at his crotch. “Oh man, I’m drunk!” I slur, my tone both perky and shocked, and for some reason, that makes me laugh. Damn, I’m adorable.

  “What does Paranormal Activity have to do with your former boss’s ass?” Jerif asks, not joining the others in their chuckles at my drunk revelation.

  “Ewww, don’t say it like that. I don’t want to touch his ass, I want to make him think that his house—no wait— his life is haunted. Like we steal his sheets, and fuck with shit around his house and bar, and make him think scary things live in his attic...or basement. He seems like the kind of creep who’d have a basement,” I mumble, suddenly really interested in the way my hand moves in front of me.

  Damn, that’s trippy.

  “You know,” I announce, fixing Jerif with my best sinister look. But it gets interrupted when I sneeze. Shit, being evil makes my nose feel funny. “You know…” I begin again with a sniff. “We’ll launch a campaign of terror on his ass so badly, he’ll rue the day he ever fucked with me!” I yell, like I’m a coach on game day giving the pep talk of my career.

  When did I stand up?

  Taz shoots out of his seat too and raises his glass. “Here, here!” he agrees.

  I try to high five him, but he’s too far away, so I just high five myself, which for some reason, makes Crux crack the fuck up. All that reminds me of is what we were laughing about before Peegate, and I throw my head back and yell, “Maaaa, you gotta knock!” and then join Crux in laughing my ass off at Jerif’s expense.

  Trust fall!

  I suddenly drop back like I’m about to make the sweetest snow angel on the carpet, but warm arms catch me instead, fucking with my carpet angel plans.

  “Spin me!” I demand of whoever is holding me.

  “Being that you almost hurled your guts up just from flying around, I’m going to go with no to the spinning,” Jerif grumps as he holds me, and I just laugh.

  “Jerif, why don’t you take Delta upstairs to lie down? She should burn the booze off soon, and we’ll show Tazreel around the property and Gate, give him a peek at what we do here,” Iceman directs.

  Jerif doesn’t say a word, but I can tell he complies, as I’m whisked out of the room. I’ve never been whisked before, and I’m debating how I feel about it, when Jerif adjusts his hold on me and his arms rub against my disgusting, but oddly sensitive, wings.

  “Ooohhhhh, do that again,” I command.

  “No.”

  “Ughhhh, why are you a thief of joy?” I demand. “You know you want to touch me.”

  “If by touch, you mean tuck your drunk, hot ass mess into bed, then yes, I do want to touch you.”

  “Knew it,” I declare smugly.

  Jerif knees a massive door open, and I suddenly find myself in a very cozy, modern looking room. The walls are black and as smooth looking as Jerif’s skin. Above the huge platform bed with all black bedding, there’s a massive canvas that looks like a big fluffy ash cloud. At first, I think it’s an enormous picture that almost takes up the whole wall, but as I get closer to the bed, I realize it’s a painting with thick layers that are so well stroked, they look soft as cotton.

  I look down to discover a rich warm wood floor, but it’s not a typical hardwood like I’ve seen in other places in the mansion. It looks like it’s made of long flat pieces of tree trunk, inlaid to become what we’re stepping on.

  “Yassss,” I call out as I’m carried deeper into the beautiful and comforting space. It’s minimalistic and yet very welcoming, which is nothing like the demon who lives in it. I chuckle at that. Well, maybe he is minimalistic, what do I know?

  “Jerif, your lair has tree carcasses,” I observe with awe, still staring at the ground.

  I also notice a sitting area with black couches and chairs facing a beautiful fireplace that’s so big a car could easily park inside of it. If the fireplace weren’t glassed off, that is. I point at the fireplace and the pretty tree flooring in front of it and decide that it’s calling to my ass. I must say that out loud, because Jerif snorts, and then like a good Wee Demon, he redirects us there.

  “What’s with you and your ass these days?” he asks me, as taciturn as ever.

  “What, it’s not a good ass?” I ask, trying and failing to look at it. “It’s totally a good ass,” I decide before he can answer.

  Jerif snags a blanket and a pillow from the bed and spreads them onto the floor before setting me down gently on the black comforter. I immediately sink down on it and realize it’s a down comforter. I want to marry it and have its soft little feather blanket babies.

  “You’re so weird,” Jerif observes after clearly getting the pleasure of hearing another drunken thought come flying right out of my unfiltered mouth.

  I roll my eyes and scan his digs again. “So is this where you bring all the ladies and show ’em your stick-straight pubes?” I tease, immediately trying to get up so I can go raid his bathroom in search of the cabbage patch.

  “Get back here,” he grunts, pulling me into him as he sits down on the rug.

  “No way, man, I want to snoop!” I argue petulantly.

  “Isn’t it only snooping if you do it when I’m not sitting right here?”

  I shrug. “Close your eyes?”

  He shakes his head, but I see the hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth. Excitement shoots through me like I’m hearing lotto numbers that match what I have on a ticket, and I stare at the little baby smile like it’s the cutest fucking thing ever.

  “Omg, you totally almost did it!” I clap.

  “Did what?”

  “Smiled! Like a person who feels shit other than judgment and the desire to punch things.”

  Jerif sighs and then cups my face and pulls my lips to his. I mumble surprise against his soft lips, and he pulls away slightly to let me speak.

  “Um, not that I’m complaining at all, but...what are you doing?”

  “Kissing you so you’ll stop talking,” he replies evenly.

  I pause for a minute and then close my eyes and pucker up.

  Well...okay then.

  16

  Nothing happens.

  I open my eyes and find Jerif just looking at me. So I stare right back, still puckered up like the weirdo he claimed I was. Our lips aren’t even an inch apart, and I’m frozen in place, waiting to see what he’s going to do.

  Should I start talking again? That seemed to kick-start something.

  I debate the best plan of action to start getting some action, but decide I don’t want to move. Maybe I spooked him. I quickly decide that maybe I have to treat Jerif like a wild wolf approaching a human for the first time. Any sudden movements or noises and he could run. Just like his baby smile did when I cooed at it.

  I really want him to kiss me.

  Every time I look at his plush bottom lip, I think about biting down on it. Every time I see the fiery balayage of his hair, I want to sink my fingers through the locks and stroke the flames. We’ve been building up to this moment, constantly charged with sexual aggression, and I don’t want to screw this up. So I stay perfectly still. I don’t even think I’m breathing. But who needs to breathe? I’m a motherfucking Nihil! I’m all immortal and shit now. I probably don’t even need air. Yeah, that’s right. Fuck you, air. I got this.

  He tilts his head slightly as he studies me. “What...what’s happening?
Did you go into that fucking pause mode of yours?”

  My brows draw together in a frown. “Me? What? No! You’re the one who paused,” I say, and then I think, fuck it. He’s not going in for the kill. Time to alpha up and show this beast how to get it done. It’s up to me. But right as I grab the back of his neck and try to pull his face toward mine, someone knocks on the stupid door.

  “Come in!” Jerif barks.

  “Don’t come in!” I try to bark just as loudly.

  Of course, Strut comes in. Judgmental eyes fall on where I’m sitting on the floor as Grumpy Lurch walks over with a covered tray. “Master Rafferty sent this up to help with her...condition.”

  He makes it sound like I’m diseased instead of just a little tipsy.

  “Thanks, Strut.”

  The butler sets the tray down beside us and bows slightly before shooting a look at the bedding beneath my ass, probably irked beyond measure that it’s on the floor, and then leaves the room.

  Jerif reaches over, plucking the lid off the tray. For all that fanciness, there’s just a couple bottles of water and four pieces of toast underneath. The lava demon slides it over. “Here. Eat. Drink,” he orders gruffly.

  “I don’t want to eat or drink,” I say, my tone going for seductive but landing on belligerent.

  “Don’t care.”

  My lips pinch together with unhappiness. “I thought you were going to kiss me,” I say with annoyance as I snatch up a piece of toast and start chomping on it.

  “I was,” he says as he braces himself on his hands behind him, leaning back and stretching out his legs so that his calf settles against my own crossed legs. “But then I realized something.”

  I roll my eyes because I already know what he’s going to say. I’m too drunk. He doesn’t want to do anything while I have a triple serving of demon spirits in me, yadda, yadda, yadda.

  Jerif goes on, despite the silent argument I’m coming up with in my head as I eat the first piece of toast and then chug some of the water. “I realized…” he says slowly, like he’s waiting to make sure he has my full attention, “that I can’t just kiss you right now.”