by Ivy Asher
I look down at my sludge breakfast and move the piles around on my plate. “I slept like a girl who just survived a demon attack,” I respond dryly. I scoop up another bite of mush, but spot a hint of green and immediately dump it out on the do not touch portion of my plate.
“For fuck’s sake,” Crux grumbles, and then he reaches across the table and tries to trade my plate with his.
My hands snap out and grip the offending breakfast plate for dear life. “Excuse you!”
“You know you don’t want to eat that,” Crux argues as he tries to muscle the plate out of my grip.
“This is mine. It was prepared for me, and you don’t get to have it,” I growl between clenched teeth. It’s nice of him to try and give me something edible for breakfast, but I just know Grumpy Lurch is around the corner. I’ll take my punishment this morning and only revolt if he pulls this shit at lunch.
As Crux strongarms the plate, I’m lifted to my feet, because I am not letting this fucker go.
“Let. Go.” I strain, my body bending over the table as I grip the plate with two hands.
“You let go,” he says, not even straining as he pulls.
I try to plant my feet and dig my heels in, using my entire body strength to keep the plate to myself. Crux is barely even trying, with just a lazy, one-handed grip on the thing, which really pisses me off.
The others just continue eating, watching our tug-of-war with detached amusement. As if this couldn’t get any more awkward, my pants suddenly drop down my ass, ensuring that everyone is getting an eyeful of cheeks and crack because of the whole commando thing, but I can’t risk letting go of the plate and pissing off Grumpy Lurch even more than I already have, so I hang on like my life depends on it.
“She makes breakfast much more entertaining, doesn’t she?” Echo muses with a smirk.
“Shut up,” Iceman says. “Crux, let go.”
“No,” the blond demon argues.
“Stop being a dick. I can’t swap plates!” I grit out.
Crux huffs out in frustration and then lets go, causing me to squeal as I fall back into my chair and juggle the plate to keep it from flying backward. It takes great concentration and quick balance to ensure that the nasty contents don’t spill everywhere. As the sludge settles, I slam my plate back down on the table and glare over at Crux.
“Suit yourself,” he tells me with a bright smile. I can just make out pointed canines amidst all the straight white teeth.
I automatically run the tip of my tongue over my normal human-like canines and wonder what it would feel like to have those pointy teeth skimming across my shoulder. I shake my head slightly to clear it of that thought and continue to give him a dirty look. His eyes light up with even more amusement.
“Delta doesn’t share food,” I announce, doing my best to channel Joey from Friends. “Especially when it’s my punishment food, because I know that bastard will just serve me shit again if I don’t eat this,” I add with a whisper, hoping GL doesn’t hear.
None of them argue that point.
“Fair enough, Maverick,” Iceman concedes, pulling my attention over to him. “Let’s move on to a more pressing issue. After you’re done with your…um...breakfast,” he says, shooting my plate an offended look, “we will go to the Gate.”
Well, shit. And here I was hoping we could skip the drag me to Hell and back part of today’s activities.
10
I let his words float about the room for a bit. “You know, normally I would be up for an adventure that could potentially get me killed or sucked into the bowels of Hell, but today is not a good day for me. Rain check?”
I push my chair back from the table and try to figure out how I can stand up and storm out without mooning everyone again.
Eh, fuck it. Give ’em something to remember me by.
I stand up, and all the hot demons do the same. I get the distinct impression that if I make a break for it again, they may put up a fight this time. I pause for a moment, intrigued, and then make a dash for the exit just to see what they’ll do. My pants are fucking huge, and I have to hike them up so that I don’t get tripped up. My waddle-run comes to a screeching halt when I slam into a tall, bony body. I bounce back from the impact, but this time, there are no strong arms to stop my fall.
I land on my ass, one half exposed cheek making a slapping noise as it hits the shiny—probably freshly polished—wood floor. I look up to find Grumpy Lurch staring down at me with satisfaction.
“Oww!” I grumble.
He tilts his head in mock sympathy. “My deepest apologies, miss.”
Grumpy Lurch promptly spins on his heel and leaves, not even offering me a hand up. I turn around and notice that the hot demons are still just standing around the table. I glare at them all. “Why the hell do you guys keep letting me run?”
Echo cocks a brow. “Was that what you were attempting to do just then? Run?” he asks mockingly. I wish I still had my sludge plate, because I’d chuck it at his frustratingly attractive albino head.
“If I’m so special, shouldn’t you guys at least try to keep me here?” I gripe as I rub my ass with one hand and fist my too big pants with the other as I stand back up.
Iceman snorts. “We’re not kidnappers. We won’t keep you here against your will. What kind of demons do you think we are?”
“Uh, I don’t know, demonic ones? Thieving, murdering, kidnapping...all of that should be your forte, right?”
“We’re Inner Ring demons,” Jerif says, as if that explains everything.
“So? That tells me nothing.”
“Inner Ring demons don’t live off of petty actions like theft and murder,” he scoffs. “We’re much more advanced than that. We maintain the balance, and there’s nothing more important to us than that.”
I stare at him incredulously. “Did you just say that murder is petty?”
“Okay, we’re getting ahead of ourselves,” Iceman interrupts, and he walks forward, leading the way for the others. “Let’s go to the Gate, and then we’ll explain the ins and outs of Hell once we figure out what kind of demon you are.”
“I don’t want to go to the Hellgate!” I argue, barely stopping myself from stomping my foot like a kid.
Some girls get taken to the movies by the hot dudes. Or dinner. Or at least the back seat of a car. Why is it that I get taken to a Hellgate? It’s like sophomore year all over again. They don’t even give a girl time to come to terms with her demons—and the fact that she just so happens to be one—before trying to drag her off to Hell.
It’s total bullshit.
“Nothing will happen to you,” Crux says, coming to my side and tossing his muscled arm around my shoulders. “We’ll protect you.”
I shrug him off even though his arm feels really warm and my skin does this tingly thing when he touches me. “Excuse me while I stay over here on Doubt Boulevard where I remember a horde of little green men attacking me and you guys were nowhere to be found,” I say dryly.
“Again, not kidnappers or stalkers,” Iceman puts in unhelpfully before turning and striding out of the room. Like good little school children, the others follow behind him in a line. Crux reaches down and grabs my hand this time, tugging me forward. His grip is firm, not letting me squirm out of it, but let’s be real, I don’t try that hard, because feeling him hold my hand like this is kind of nice, and where the fuck am I going to go otherwise?
I’m not eager to admit it, and if asked I would deny it vehemently, but I’m kind of curious too. As much as I’ve been trying to ignore it, there is a part of me that questions whether this is all legit. Not that they’re demons, for some reason I have no issue accepting that now, but the fact that I might be one too—that’s what’s really fucking with me.
If they’re right, where does that leave me? And if they’re wrong...that option feels overwhelmingly scary too. No matter how I debate it in my mind, I can’t seem to decide where I want to land in this whole Hellgate cluster fuck, so it’s p
robably time to just know one way or the other.
We follow behind as Iceman leads us to the very back of the house and through a door onto the patio. I let the guys’ presence distract me from the fact that we’re heading straight for a Hellgate. I gotta say, the view is really good from back here.
“Stop checking out Jerif’s ass while I hold your hand,” Crux chides.
My eyes fly up from where they were indeed checking out Jerif’s ass, my face immediately blooming with a blush. “I wasn’t!” I hiss.
But Jerif spins around to face us, his face stony as he walks backward. “You can check my ass out all you want. Seems only fair, since we all saw your naked ass over breakfast. Let me know when you’re ready for me to drop my pants.”
“You’re flirting with me?” I ask him incredulously. “What happened to you being a pissed off Hot Lava demon who hates my guts?”
“Hot Lava,” Crux snickers beside me.
“I don’t hate your guts, and I’m not flirting with you,” Jerif tells me. “I just don’t think you can handle being a Gate Guardian with us. Even with your demon blood, you might as well be a boring human because you don’t know shit. And for the record, you can’t handle the Gate or my ass.”
“Yes, I can!” I say vehemently, but then I want to smack myself for that thought flying out of my mouth like a naughty drunken butterfly.
Jerif shoots me a dismissive look before turning to face forward again, like he just won the last word. Gobsmacked, I look up to Crux and watch as he tries and fails to hide a smile. I can’t tell if these fuckers are playing with me or if Crux just finds everything amusing.
“I can handle it. I’ll show you,” I announce as I mentally net all my thought butterflies and scold them for fleeing in my time of need. I mean, if a girl can’t fall back on a steady supply of snarky comments, there’s just no point in carrying on.
“Yeah, I guess we’ll see,” Jerif says over his shoulder.
“What are you waiting for?” I taunt.
Crux gives me a strange look. “Uh, we have to walk there. You know, for someone who just declared that she didn’t want to go to the Hellgate in an epic three-year-old tantrum fashion, you sure are impatient to see it now,” he teases.
“No, not the Gate. Hot Lava’s—I mean, Jerif’s ass. He said I couldn’t handle it. I can.”
Crux unexpectedly stops mid-step while I keep walking, but since he still has hold of my hand, I get snapped backward. He recovers quickly from my body check and homes in on my eyes.
“Pardon?”
“You heard me, Nancy the Nun. He challenged me, so I’m taking him up on it. Why should my moon be the only one to wax and wane up in this bitch? Let’s see it, Jerif!” I call ahead. “Show me whatchya workin’ with.”
I do my best Mystikal impression and start singing “Shake Ya Ass.” I get a little too into it, and I’m halfway through the first verse before I notice that everyone has stopped walking just to stare at me incredulously.
I get sucked into Jerif’s glittering fire-dancing eyes like a moth to a fucking flame as he regards me. “You sure you can handle it, Warrior Princess? ’Cause I got an ass that don’t quit.”
The declaration, and the even, serious delivery of such a ridiculous statement out of Jerif’s cantankerous self forces a snicker to fly right out of my lips. Geez, humble much?
Before I can call him out on it, Jerif turns around, unzips his pants, and pulls them down.
Wow. I didn’t think he’d actually do it.
My drunken butterfly thoughts stay right where they’re supposed to be, and I snag one, ready to make fun of his hairy ass or joke about how asses in general just don’t do it for me. But of course, Jerif has to have the perfect ass. It’s so round and juicy that I want to take a bite out of it, and that’s saying something, because I usually reserve those kinds of thoughts for apples or maybe a steak.
There’s no creepy hair or annoying stretch marks, just smooth onyx skin that for some reason makes me think of satin sheets that smell like sex and feel like heaven. He wags his ass for good measure, and I see a hint of balls, but even that doesn’t freak me out. Balls are not cute, but instead of activating my ick alarm, all I now want to do is coax him into turning around and showing me what he’s got in the front. He may be a total douche, but I know it’s going to be impressive.
Somehow, I blink back into reality and rein in my ogling. I clear my throat and notice that my mouth has gone dry. I guess that’s not too surprising since I’m pretty sure every ounce of moisture in my body just flooded my panties. The fucker really does have an ass that doesn’t quit.
“Told you that you couldn’t handle it,” Jerif snarks as he pulls his pants up and zips them closed.
I try to snort, but it sounds way too forced to be real. “Psh. I mean, if squats aren’t your thing, who am I to judge?” I taunt, going straight from ass worship right into deny deny deny mode. “I’m sure that someday, someone will look past that concave situation and love you for you.”
What the fuck are you saying, Delta? Abort. Abort!
“Excuse me?” Jerif demands, affronted by my casual dismissal of his fine ass.
“So how about that Hellgate?” I ask with mock cheer, as I attempt to close the floodgates to my vagina and simultaneously change the subject. “If it’s anything like his ass, I can definitely handle Hell,” I bluff. “It’s not that impressive.”
Echo laughs at Jerif. “She insulted your ass. Literally.” Jerif moves to knock his elbow into him, but Echo somehow dodges the move. “Don’t worry, Jerif. Everyone knows I have the best ass of the group anyway.”
Now Jerif and Crux both frown. “The fuck you say?” Jerif asks.
Echo ignores him and wags his white brows at me. “Ready to see mine to compare?”
Now I’m thinking about his pale ass next to Jerif’s dark one, and it’s doing all sorts of things to me. I bet those asses would look real good positioned between my thighs, but I shake off those thoughts. Sex is my go-to distraction when shit is difficult, but it’s not going to help me now. I need to keep my head out of the gutter and my impulses in check, which is a tough feat for me on a good day. But my whole life is about to change one way or another, and I need to stay focused on that. I can’t just have a distraction-fuck and pretend all the complicated shit is going to go away. It’s not.
“No,” Iceman interrupts gruffly. “No more ass flashing.” He shakes his head in front of us as he continues to walk. “I never thought I’d have to fucking say shit like that.”
The other demons snicker but fall silent like chastised school kids.
When our group gets to the cemetery, Iceman leads us to the large stone mausoleum where I first saw the guys. Inside, the five of us cram together in a tight circle, and I look at him expectantly. “If you are indeed a demon like we all suspect, then you’ll be able to pass into Hell with us without issue,” he tells me.
I swallow hard, sudden hesitation taking root. I feel like someone who’s signed up to go bungee jumping, but now that I’m looking over the edge of a bridge and seeing the drop, I’m second guessing why I’d ever want to do anything so mental. “Do I have to?” I ask, my eyes focusing on the non-existent fall into a canyon below me.
“Yes.”
I breathe out stiffly, expounding on my life choices. “All I did was answer a Help Wanted ad. I wasn’t supposed to have to work for demons and go to Hell.”
Echo leans forward. “But isn’t this more exciting?”
I shove him away with my shoulder and then clamp my eyes shut. “Fine. Just do it. Quick.”
“What?” Iceman asks.
“Quick!” I repeat. “Like a Band-Aid, just let ’er rip before I chicken out.”
He pauses, but I can’t open my eyes, because if I do, I’ll probably try to run again, and that’s not really an option anymore. I need to do this, but I need someone to push me over the edge because I can’t jump on my own.
“Alright,” he finally say
s. “Join hands.”
“Do we need to swap spit and bleed into a chalice too?” I mumble before holding out my sweat-slicked palms.
I feel Crux lean in as he grabs my right hand, while Echo takes my left. “We’ll swap spit with you anyday, Jeter,” Crux says with laughter in his voice.
I open my mouth to say something snarky back, but before I can, Iceman speaks in his demon language. “Ewl uh wiinii.”
Did he just say, Ew, a weenie?
A massive surge like lightning erupts in the air, and I can see it distinctly even through my closed lids. I feel a force push at my front, and I would’ve gone flying back if it weren’t for Echo’s and Crux’s hands holding tightly onto mine. A blast of orange light surrounds me, making me squeeze my eyes shut even tighter, and then I’m pitching forward, like a rollercoaster ride suddenly tipping me on the downward plunge. I scream, and my hands—still holding onto Crux and Echo—try to come straight up like I’m actually riding a rollercoaster or some shit.
Before I can get them even half way up, the sensation of zooming downward suddenly stops, giving me such horrible vertigo that I tip the other way and land hard on my ass. “Motherfucking ow!”
Just like that, we’re in Hell.
I open my eyes and look up at Crux. “Why’d you let go of my hands?” I ask accusingly.
“Sorry, I didn’t realize you’d be so unstable,” he says with some contrition on his face.
I get up and turn my head to yell at Echo next, only to stutter to a stop.
Echo’s pale skin and hair stood out before, but he looks like he’s practically glowing now. That, however, is not what has me gaping like a suffocating fish. It’s the dark black tattoos wrapped around his arms and peeking out of his neck. I watch, fascinated, as the lines shift and slither over his skin like writhing inky shadows.
