“Don’t say it.” His voice was clipped. “Don’t finish that sentence.”
I swallowed as I lifted my head, meeting his bright gaze. “But it is true. How will we be together when I’m ninety and you look eighteen? How—?”
“I don’t know how we’ll make it work, but we will make it work. Somehow. And who knows if you will continue to age? I get that you’ve aged so far, but maybe that will stop. Layla, you’re part demon. Demons don’t age. Maybe the Warden blood has watered down some aspects, but look what’s happened when you’ve shifted recently. You’re changing and you don’t—we don’t—know all of what that means.”
“You make it sound so easy,” I said after a moment. “Like me looking like your grandmother one day isn’t a big deal.”
“It’s not.” He cupped my cheek. “I don’t think you understand what it means when a demon falls in love, Layla. It doesn’t go away. It doesn’t fade, even if we want it to. We love until death. That’s not just something we say. We love and we love once and it’s forever. No matter what. And that’s a bit twisted if you think about it, but luckily you feel the same way, so this isn’t awkward. You feel me?”
Paimon, the Upper Level demon who’d loved Lilith and who’d kick-started all of this when he tried to free her, had said something similar, but coming from Roth, it was like the first taste of chocolate. It didn’t wash away all my concerns, but it made me feel better about them, gave me hope that we could face them together, even if I needed a walker when we were facing the problem.
“God, Roth, sometimes...sometimes you’re just perfect.”
I expected a snarky response, like he would normally give me, but his hand traveled up to my cheek, and then slid around the nape of my neck. He guided me so I was nestled against him, my head tucked under his chin and one of his legs curled around mine. “Can I tell you something?”
“Of course.”
Roth’s thumb moved idly along the base of my scalp. “It’s moments like these that I need, too.”
twelve
STANDING IN FRONT of the chair, I felt like I’d drunk a case of highly caffeinated drinks. Nervous energy consumed me, and I shifted from one foot to the other, not unlike I’d seen Thumper do at Stacey’s house.
“Can this wait?” I asked, wiping my damp palms along my hips. “I mean, I really think this can wait.”
Grinning like a cat that just cornered a herd of mice, Roth knew better than to get too close to me at the moment, because there was a good chance I might punch him. “Now is as good a time as any, Shortie.”
I wrinkled my nose as I folded my arms across my chest and glanced over to where Cayman was fiddling with a massive contraption that looked like a power tool, but I knew it wasn’t. “Can he really do this?”
Lifting his gaze to me, Cayman smiled. “I can do just about everything, teacup.”
“Not everything,” Roth reminded him.
Cayman shrugged, and then he hit something on the tool he held and a droning hum filled the office in the back of the club. My eyes widened as my muscles stiffened. “Is it...supposed to be that loud?”
Cayman laughed.
“Shortie, you’ve faced down Nightcrawlers and Raver demons, you cannot be that scared of getting a tattoo.”
I whipped around toward Roth. “You’re not the one getting the tattoo, so maybe you should just shut up.”
Behind me, Cayman snorted, and I whirled toward him, shooting him my best death glare. “You, too. Shut it.”
He shut it.
“I have five tats, Shortie, I know what it feels like,” Roth cajoled, his hands raised at his sides. “It’ll sting, but you’re strong. You’ll deal.”
I didn’t want to deal.
I also didn’t want to be acting like such a baby, but I couldn’t look forward to sitting down and allowing someone to dig ink into my body. Why had I thought this was a good idea?
Cayman rose. “Are we going to do this or not? Because I’m sure all of us have stuff to do. Like you all have a Lilin to find and I have deals to broker.”
“It’s up to you, Layla,” Roth said. “If you don’t want to do this, we don’t have to.”
A huge part of me wanted to jump on the out he offered, but getting a familiar tattooed on my skin was the smart thing to do. It would make me stronger and I’d have my own built-in backup system if things got out of hand. So I needed to woman up. “I want to do this.”
Roth smiled at me while Cayman came around the desk. “Then hop up on the chair,” the demon ordered. “And we’ll get this show on the road.”
I sat as instructed and nearly squealed when Cayman hit something on the side and unexpectedly set the chair to a reclining position. I gripped the arms of the chair, glaring at him. “A warning would’ve been nice.”
“And what fun would that have been?” he replied. “You know what you’re getting?”
Glancing at Roth, I nodded slowly. We’d talked about it last night, and it had been harder than I imagined when it came to picking a familiar. Most of my ideas were lame. At one point, I’d suggested a llama, which was about when Roth had announced that it was time for bed since my brain clearly needed to recharge.
“A fox,” I told Cayman. “Because they are fast and clever.”
“Like me,” added Roth.
I rolled my eyes. “Not because it’s like Roth.”
“A fox? Interesting,” murmured Cayman as he waved his left hand. A low stool appeared out of thin air, and I thought that was rather nifty. “I’m going to need some space to do that. Pull up your shirt.”
Roth’s head swung in his direction. “You might want to rethink that request.”
Cayman snorted as he looked up through a lock of hair. “Please. As pretty as our little strudel cake is, she doesn’t do it for me. You taking off your shirt, however, floats my boat and anchor.”
I pursed my lips as Roth muttered, “Whatever.”
Taking a deep breath, I pulled my shirt up so my stomach was exposed. “I have a feeling this is going to hurt.”
“You’ll be fine.” Roth moved behind the chair, placing his hands on my shoulders. “You got this.”
Cayman handled the instrument like he knew what he was doing as he started to lean over me. I tensed and he shook his head. “You’re lucky, butter butts. This is going to go a lot faster and easier than it does for the humans.”
“Why?”
He glanced up at me. “Because of magic.” He said it like I didn’t have two brain cells to rub together. “And because you will heal a hell of a lot faster than a human will. You won’t even need to cover the tat.”
“Okay.” I was going to have to believe him.
“What are you going to call your fox?” Cayman asked.
I was so tense there was a good chance parts of my body would start breaking. “Robin.”
His brows rose. “Why Robin?”
“My favorite Disney movie is the one where a fox is Robin Hood,” I explained. “So Robin.”
“That’s my girl,” Roth said from behind me. “Through and through.”
Cayman glanced up at Roth, and then he placed his hand along my ribs. I jumped a little at the contact, and then, because I couldn’t look away even though I should, I watched him bring the tattoo gun to my skin.
“Holy shit!” I shrieked, increasing my death grip on the arms of the chair. Sharp stinging pain, like I’d rolled around in a hornet’s nest, lit up my entire stomach. “Just a little bit of pain? Are you kidding me?”
“It’ll get better,” Roth said, rubbing my shoulders.
Without even looking at him, I could hear the smile in his voice, and I wanted to punch him in the face. My stomach burned as Cayman did the tattoo, and only after about an eternity did the pain lessen, and I think that was because my stomach just went numb. But I sat there and I took it like a good little half demon, half Warden, and I fought the urge to shift in order to protect myself.
Roth did his best to distract me b
y preparing me for what it would be like to have my own familiar and not just one we sort of shared joint custody of.
Robin, my foxy-fox familiar, would probably sleep for the first day or so and not move around a lot, and he wouldn’t come off my skin during that time. Roth explained that Robin would bond with me not just physically, but emotionally and mentally. As Robin rested, the familiar would tap into my memories. It would learn me, and yeah, that was kind of freaky, but like with Bambi and Roth, Robin would be able to proactively sense whenever I was in trouble or needed him to take form.
I just hoped he didn’t appear as a giant, mutant fox, because that would also be extremely creepy.
I had no idea how much time passed, but finally Cayman rocked back, turning off the tattoo gun. “Done,” he said, stretching his arms above his back.
Glancing down at my sore stomach, all I could do was stare. There was a huge-ass tattoo there, stretching from under my right rib cage to my navel. Maybe that wasn’t big to some, but to me, it was ginormous.
And it was beautiful.
Since I hadn’t been paying attention to what Cayman had been doing when he stopped and started, what I saw was a complete surprise to me. The reddish-brown coat of the fox was so realistic that I almost expected to be able to feel the fur if I reached down to touch it. The fox’s tail was bushy and streaked with white. It was curled up, its hind legs tucked close to its body and its long snout resting on its front legs. Cayman’s detail was extraordinary, down to the thick lashes, the white tufts of fur around the closed eyes and the black whiskers.
And what was also truly amazing was how quickly the redness was fading around the edges of the tattoo. Cayman hadn’t been joking when he said I was lucky. Within an hour or so, I knew the skin would be completely healed.
Without warning, one of the fox’s whiskers twitched and I jumped in the chair. Grinning, I looked up at Roth. “His whisker moved!”
His smile reached his eyes, lightening the color. “That’s fast. I have a feeling this one is going to be active.”
“I hope he and Bambi get along.” It was kind of like introducing the big sister to the little brother, and hoping she didn’t pitch the interloper in front of a speeding truck.
“They will,” he said, curling his hand around the nape of my neck. “You did good, Shortie. You deserve a reward.”
I arched a brow, knowing I hadn’t really done that good. Frankly, I’d acted like a giant baby. “A reward?”
Roth nodded and then leaned down, kissing me, and not just a quick peck on the lips, either. All my senses refocused solely on him. I didn’t even feel the dull ache along my stomach. His hand slipped to my chin, holding me in place as he deepened the kiss and I got to check out that bolt in his tongue.
Oh, that kiss... It made me think of other things—things that weren’t entirely appropriate when it came to where we were and the fact that the day yawned wide-open in front of us. Last night, after we talked about the familiar, we’d been too drained to do anything but sleep, and now I was wishing we had used that private time more wisely. We needed to get a move on it, as there was really important stuff that needed to get done, but my body flushed and I reached up, wrapping my hand around the back of his head, threading my fingers through his messy hair.
“Don’t mind me,” Cayman said. “I’m not here. Nope. I’m not the awkward third party, having to witness you two eat each other’s face.”
Lifting his head, Roth cast a dark look in Cayman’s direction while I just sat there, enjoying the aftereffects of the kiss. “You know, you could’ve simply left.”
“Don’t bring logic into this conversation,” he said, standing. When I looked at him, I saw that the tattoo gun was gone. He winked at me as I tugged my shirt down. “Like Roth said, don’t be surprised if your familiar doesn’t move around much at first. He’s basically sleeping, but when he’s ready and he senses you’re in any kind of danger, he’s probably going to come off.”
I nodded and then scooted off the chair, standing. I didn’t feel exactly different now that I had my own familiar, but I was a bit excited to see Robin in the flesh for the first time.
Now it was time to hit the streets. There was a good chance that since the Lilin had shown up yesterday, it would again today, but we would be prepared this time. We had to be.
Cayman backed up to the desk and leaned against it, crossing his arms. “Before you guys leave, can you do me a favor, Roth?”
“Depends,” he drawled.
“You have a book upstairs—the one about lesser demons. Can I borrow that?”
Roth raised a brow. “Yeah. When have you ever asked before?”
“I’m turning over a new leaf.”
Amber eyes narrowed on Cayman. “You can borrow it.”
“Can you grab it for me?”
Roth stared at him.
“I’m le tired,” Cayman said, mimicking a French accent I’d heard on a YouTube video once. “Plus, I don’t want to pop in later and get it if you and Layla are in there, engaged in shenanigans, because then you’d have to hurt me if I saw her lady bits and—”
“Okay,” Roth cut him off, scrubbing his fingers through his hair, irritated. “Just stop talking.”
Cayman smiled.
Muttering under his breath, Roth walked toward the door, and then disappeared. I blinked, hating when they did that. Resisting the urge to pat my now-tattooed belly, I kept my hands at my sides. “That was a strange request.”
“I really don’t want the book. Reading is so boring,” he replied, pushing off the table.
I frowned. “Then why—”
“We don’t have a lot of time. I went into the loft this morning and shoved that book behind a bunch of other dusty books that looked boring as Hell, but he’ll be down here in a few moments,” he explained. “I got word last night that Grim returned early to Hell. He’s there.”
At first, all I could do was stare at Cayman. Grim—the Grim Reaper—was back in Hell, the only being that could release Sam’s soul. Excitement and dread exploded like a rocket inside me. I could finally do something for Sam, but I also knew this wasn’t going to be easy.
“If you’re ready to go down there, I’d suggest you do it soon in case Grim changes his plans,” he went on. “And I hear he’s in a good mood. So now would be a great time to beg and plead. Because that’s all you really have to offer him, right? Your begging?”
I blinked. “That’s all I can think of. He’s the Grim, and if he spends part of his time in Heaven, he can’t really be all evil.”
“So you’re hoping you can appeal to his innate sense of goodness and justice?” he asked, and when I nodded, he laughed. “Oh, Loopy Layla, you are so cute.”
Folding my arms, I exhaled loudly. “What else do I have to offer him? If you have a suggestion, it would be helpful.”
“I don’t.” He flicked a blond lock out of his face as he shrugged. “Truth is, I don’t even know what Grim could want in return or if he’d want anything at all. You’ll just have to find out. Are you still wanting to do this?”
In the back of my head, I fully recognized what a horrible idea this was turning out to be. Who was I to waltz into Hell and demand that what was virtually the angel of death do something, but what other choice did I have? I couldn’t risk Roth doing it, knowing that if he went into Hell right now, he might not come back out, and I couldn’t leave Sam in there. I couldn’t be complacent and I had to try something.
“I’m in,” I said, and my nerves stretched tight.
He inclined his head and the typical playfulness was gone from his expression. “When?”
My heart was pounding as I glanced at the door. Being in Hell was going to be as dangerous as walking across the beltway during rush hour. So many things could go wrong, and if I left right now, Roth popping out of this room could possibly be the last time I saw him. The texts I had with Stacey could be our last correspondence ever, and when I saw Zayne yesterday, that could be the last
time. Having another couple of hours or days wasn’t going to fix anything with Zayne, but it would give me time to see Stacey and it would give me time with Roth to...
To squeeze a forever into a few short hours.
To experience everything we hadn’t yet explored before we lost the chance.
“Can I have tonight?” I asked.
Every Last Breath Page 15
