by Ivy Asher
“What’ll it be tonight?” she asks, paper poised in her hand to take our order. “We got blood of the damned on tap, and some fresh brewed demon spirits.”
“Demon spirits will be fine, thank you,” Iceman says with a polite smile stretching across his blue face.
“Coming right up,” she says with a grin that I think is aiming for sultry. Iceman ignores her completely though, which for some reason, pleases me immensely.
Once she walks away, I can’t help but let my eyes drag over to the banjo player on top of the table. His face looks exactly like the white and light gray marble countertops I added to my Dream Kitchen Pinterest board. His skin is completely smooth, the veins of light gray running all along the visible parts of him, and it makes me want to trail my fingers down his body to see what he feels like. I never thought I’d be attracted to a marbleized demon, but damn, he’s hot. Jet black hair, faded jeans, and he’s playing that banjo with bunching muscles. The sound makes me want to shove screwdrivers in my ears, but the sight is almost worth the tune.
“You’re staring.”
Embarrassed at getting caught, I look over at Crux who has his green eyes narrowed on me. “What?” I ask defensively. “He just looks different.”
“You were checking him out.”
“I was not,” I argue, looking around at the others. Jerif is scowling at me—that’s nothing new—but so are Echo and Iceman. “Geez, lighten up. I was just curious, that’s all.”
“It would be best if you didn’t let your eyes linger,” Iceman tells me. “Everyone in here is very dangerous, and you don’t want to give them a reason to become curious about you.”
Swallowing, I nod. “Okay, warning received loud and clear...over,” I add, because I don’t love the feeling of Iceman scowling at me. Luckily, our radio humor gets the reaction from him that I was hoping for. His lips twitch slightly, the scowl gone as he shakes his head and looks around, trying not to break into a full smile. I grin into my lap.
The barmaid stops by again, dropping off a wooden pitcher and five cups shaped like hourglasses. The guys pour themselves a drink, and when Iceman offers one to me, I shrug and try to drink it again, only to nearly spit it out on the table. “Fucking hell, it’s worse than before,” I cringe, wishing there was something I could shove into my mouth to take the taste of paint thinner and rotten chicken away. “That is awful stuff. How can you drink that?”
“Tastes good,” Echo says before setting the cup down in front of him and leaning forward. “But I bet something else would taste much, much better.”
I frown at him. “Like...hot wings?” I ask, wondering if this place has bar food.
All three of them chuckle, and I even get a snort from Jerif.
“Not hot wings,” Echo answers, and then his eyes are trailing over me in that way that guys only ever look at you when they’re picturing you naked and bent over in front of them.
“Oh,” I say, suddenly feeling nearly as hot as I did when we were outside.
Echo’s black eyes glitter in amusement, and I squirm in my seat, because now I’m thinking about being bent over in front of him, and honestly, I bet he could blow my mind.
What is going on? Was my previous horniness contagious or something?
“Oh come on, Jeter,” Crux says, tossing an arm over my shoulders. “Don’t fall for a line like that. Echo might talk a big game, but I guarantee you, I can give you more orgasms.”
My brain stutters, like my mental tongue is getting stuck on the word orgasms, unable to get the damn thing out. “What?”
“I’m just throwing my hat in the Hell Ring,” Crux replies easily. “You don’t have to settle for Echo.”
Instead of getting pissed, Echo snorts. “Don’t listen to him, Delta. Crux has a short attention span. He gets distracted halfway through and tends to fall asleep after just one round.”
“Fuck off,” Crux grumbles, and I suddenly feel like I’m in some weird sex tug-of-war.
“Hold up,” I say, shrugging Crux’s arm off me. “Who said I wanted to fuck either of you?” I demand.
“You did,” Echo and Crux both answer at the same time.
My mouth drops. “I most definitely did not!” I mean, not out loud, anyway.
“We can sense arousal,” Echo says smoothly before taking another drink.
I narrow my eyes. “You’re lying.”
“Nope,” he says, a smirk crawling up the side of his lips.
I blink, feeling a flush spread up my chest. I have no idea if they’re fucking with me or not, but the thought that they can sense when I’ve been clit-conscious is a little horrifying...and intriguing. Can I do that too?
I try to take another swig of my drink, just because I suddenly feel the need to get a little looser and a lot more exploratory, but no. God no. The taste just keeps getting worse. “Ugh,” I grimace, shoving the cup away.
“So you don’t deny it,” Crux says, eyes glittering. “You do want to fuck us.”
I open my mouth, only for Echo to cut me off. “Don’t lie. We’re demons. We can sense that too.”
Well, fuck. Is this the demon spirits talking? Are they lightweights? They each had a couple sips, but I wouldn’t think it was enough to encourage randy, blunt, sex talk. I look at each of them in turn not quite sure what to make of this conversation. Has my agreeing to talk to someone about the Hellgate opened up this can of worms? Do I really care?
I swallow hard, noting that all four demons are hyper-focused on me. Part of me wants to flip them the finger and tell them to fuck off, but what the hell? I’m not shy about sex.
“Fine, I’m attracted to you,” I admit, thankful that my voice is steady and that I don’t sound like a nervous teenager. “But I don’t fuck anyone with strings,” I tell them honestly.
Echo tilts his head. “What does that mean?”
I shrug and fidget with the crack in the wooden table top. “I’m not good at relationships or messy hookups. I’m a have sex and X kind of girl. We have sex, I X you off the list.”
Crux’s hand slaps on the table. “I volunteer to be the first one X’ed off.”
A surprised bubble of laughter emits from my throat. “You’re ridiculous.”
He shrugs, not at all concerned. “I still volunteer.”
I shake my head at him, but I can’t help the part of me that’s intrigued. I’m not going to lie, I’m dying to know what sex would be like with a demon. If the pictures I saw at Perdition Estate are anything to go by, then I’m in for a serious ride.
But as much as my interest is piqued, I might be better off playing with someone like banjo boy over there instead of someone I could potentially be working with. I know I can keep things light and easy after getting all carnal, but Crux still has those excited puppy vibes, and I’m just not sure if he can.
Well, damn, Delta. You agree to consider guarding one Hellgate and suddenly you want to let your demon freak flag fly. I side-eye myself for a second. Maybe I’m the lightweight. I mean, I stand by what I’m saying, but I just can’t figure out why I’m confessing to it now.
Crux looks across at Echo with a satisfied grin as he leans back in his chair. “She’s definitely going to pick me over you.”
Echo rolls his eyes. “Yeah, we’ll see.”
My heart stumbles over itself, and I look between the two demons, noting that they just started some sort of sex contest in regards to me and feeling oddly excited about it.
“She’s barely agreed to think about the Gate. We don’t need you two fiddle dicks making things more complicated,” Jerif says with a sigh, tipping his cup back to drain the last of his drink. “Stop thinking with your cocks, will you?”
“Impossible,” Crux replies. “My cock always has the best ideas.”
I choke out a laugh while Echo nods. “Sadly, that’s probably true.”
Iceman shakes his head, but I don’t miss the amusement in his blue eyes. “Focus. Flint seems to be finishing up.”
“Who’s
Flint?” I ask.
“The demon you were ogling,” Echo replies.
My eyes fly over to the marble-faced banjo player, who does in fact end his song. He gets to his feet and then jumps down, ignoring the smattering of applause he receives as he walks off, passing right through the circle of flames without even flinching.
“He’s the demon who watches the Gate?”
“One of them,” Iceman answers before standing up and tossing down a wad of bills on the table. He helps me out of my seat and tucks my hand in the crook of his arm. “Come on. Time to go meet another Gate Guardian.”
15
Iceman leads us across the bar and through another set of swinging doors like he owns the place. We spill out into a small dingy looking kitchen, which answers my question about whether or not they have food. But when an imp that looks to be made of dirt clods pulls an angry screeching squid thing from a bucket and then throws it directly into a deep fryer, I make firm plans to dine elsewhere.
I’m led past the kitchen, down some dimly lit hallway where we all stop outside a door marked Office. Iceman knocks, and a smooth voice calls out for us to come in. He opens the door and we all file in, and I’m suddenly caught up in a flurry of man hugs and hellos. I scurry to get out of the way of the boisterous reunion and plant myself against a wood paneled wall. I look around, taking in the two desks with stacks of papers on them, the computer that looks like it might be a first edition original model, and absolutely nothing else that could possibly be a Hellgate.
I catch sight of Flint—the black haired, gray-eyed, marble-skin-looking banjo player—as more back slapping and some ball busting starts to go down amongst the group. I also get a hint of another large male demon in the back with dandelion yellow hair and skin the color of faint lavender. I think I spot a flower behind his ear, but Jerif steps in my line of sight, and I immediately question why I would think that. These are big gruff demons; I doubt they’re rocking ear blooms.
I feel awkward standing on the side while they all catch up. I feel like I’m at a party where everyone knows everyone, and my wingman forgot I was here and is just ignoring me while they’re off having the best time. I would pull out my phone and pass the minutes until someone decides to include me, but I forgot to bring it. So instead, I study my scythe and try not to feel left out.
The noise in the small room starts to settle, and Iceman’s voice cuts through. “We really appreciate you meeting with our fifth. I know the adjustment wasn’t easy for you, and we all thought your story might help.”
“Happy to do what I can,” Flint says with a clap before rubbing his palms together. His words are heavily accented like he was born and raised in Georgia. “So where is he? Let’s help your fifth find his balls.”
I’m not sure if I want to glare or laugh at his incorrect assumption, but the look of shock on his face when Iceman and Jerif break apart to reveal little ol’ me leaning against the wall makes up for it. The dude’s mouth literally drops open as he takes me in. I try and fail not to feel a little smug about it.
“Is that a—” he starts to ask when his gray eyes land on my scythe.
“It is,” Jerif confirms.
“But she’s a...she?” Flint states, like I couldn’t possibly be real.
“How jealous are you right now?” Crux teases, and the lavender skin, yellow-haired demon chuckles.
My eyes land on him, and I notice that I was right before—there really is a big lily-type flower tucked behind his ear. But what’s even more captivating is the rainbow-colored patterns running up the middle of his arms and the sides of his neck. They look like multi-colored shadows of flowers. It’s like the flowers themselves are the lavender color of his skin, but the shading around them is a watercolor splash of various hues, creating different shapes and sizes of blossoms that flow up his arms and neck. He also has a big dahlia flower shape on the front of his throat.
It’s such a feminine juxtaposition to his massive muscled size. I’m trying not to stare, but he’s just so pretty. The watercolor bouquet on his skin is completely engrossing, and he tops it all off with pouty lips, butterscotch eyes, and yellow hair that would make a Disney Prince jealous. I’m about to ask him to show me his smolder when Echo clears his throat, which coaxes my eyes back to him. He has a sneaky smile on his face, but also a possessive look in his black eyes.
I quickly realize that everyone is staring at me, and I get the distinct impression that I was probably asked a question, but I was too busy staring at someone’s ear bloom—amongst other things—to hear it. So I wave awkwardly instead and offer a sheepish smile. “Hey.”
Smooth, Delta, really fucking smooth.
“Well, she can clearly see through wards if she’s staring at Alder that way. What Ring is she?” Flint the banjo player asks, and I can’t help but bristle.
“Um…I’m right here, you can just ask me,” I point out, and the shock he’s still wearing on his face morphs into smooth, confident features. I can practically feel the charisma suddenly radiating off of him.
“True, true, darlin’,” he drawls, giving Matthew McConaughey’s twang a run for its money in terms of hotness. I tamp down the shudder that wants to crawl up my spine as I try not to drool. Marble McConaughey is real easy on the eyes and ears.
“So what Ring are ya?” he asks again, but although his question is innocent, his eyes are banked with heat and locked on me intensely.
“No idea,” I admit on a shrug.
My answer seems to snap him out of whatever deviant trance I suspect he was just trying to put me under, and he looks over at Iceman with confusion. “What’s this, now?”
“That’s been part of our issue, Flint,” Iceman starts. “She didn’t know she was a demon. We sprung that on her in addition to trying to appoint her as a new Gate Guardian.”
Flint whistles and his eyebrows shoot up.
“But how did she not know?” the flower dude, who’s apparently named Alder, asks. His voice is rich and smooth like it’s a thousand-year-old bottle of priceless wine that’s pouring from his lips.
“We aren’t sure. There was some sort of block on her. We think it has something to do with the scythe. It showed up the first night she worked, and since then, she was able to see through wards and detect demons. None of us know how,” Jerif offers.
All eyes turn to the weapon clutched in my suddenly sweaty palm, and I try not to fidget at the intense attention.
“You know what this could mean right?” Alder states.
“Yeah, we’re all on the same page, but there’s no way to know for sure unless we take her to the Vestibule and test her at the doors,” Crux explains.
“So what are you waiting for?” Flint demands, equal parts excitement and irritation. “Someone tried to hide her, and yet here she is...and with that,” he announces gesturing to the scythe. “This could be the answer that all of us have been waiting for!”
“Hold up,” Echo juts in, his shadows shifting over his pale arms. “She’s ours. She came to our Gate, and that’s that.”
“If she’s a true Gatekeeper, then you might not have a say in the matter,” Flint replies, his marbleized face growing stony in expression. “She could be all of ours. All the Gates need to be fixed. Not just yours.”
I’m suddenly looking at two sides of demons who look like they’re about to face off with each other—my four Hellgate guards against Flint and Alder. The aggression in the room hikes up to uncomfortable levels, and there’s not a drop of bromance to be found in the room anymore. Meanwhile, I’m still trying to figure out what a Vespa-tool is, or whatever it is that Crux just said.
“What the hell just happened?” I ask, stepping between the two sides and holding my scythe like I mean business as the demons growl at each other.
“If you won’t take her to Hell, then we will,” Flint shouts over me.
“We already did, you poacher. She freaked out,” Jerif yells back.
“Hey!” I interject. “I did not fre
ak out in Hell,” I argue, turning to Jerif. He just rolls his eyes at me. “I kept it together until we were back and then I freaked out,” I clarify, like it makes a difference.
“That’s what got us into this mess in the first place. She wasn’t ready,” Iceman defends, but Alder and Flint still look dubious. I’m a little worried that they might just make a grab for me. If that’s the case, putting myself between my demons and these two probably wasn’t the best plan of action.
I open my mouth to try to talk everyone down from the freak out ledge, but suddenly, an alarm of wrongness chimes in my soul. Instantly, I feel all kinds of weird and icky.
I swallow as I try to work through what the hell just happened, looking at my guys with concern. Flint and Alder both curse and start to push their way out of the office. One minute, everyone was looking like they were ready to brawl, and now, each of them looks like they’re preparing for an attack and ready to fight together.
Everyone rushes out of the office, leaving me behind, a statue of wary confusion. When Iceman notices I’m not with them, he comes rushing back in, just to stare at me like he’s not sure what to do.
“What the hell is going on?” I ask after a beat as more and more worry bubbles up in my chest. I rub at my breast bone, not liking the feel of the alarm crawling up my esophagus.
“Did you feel it?” Iceman asks me, his eyes moving from my hand at my chest up to my eyes. He looks surprised. “Their Gate is being breached. It happens all the time. It’s nothing to worry about,” he tells me.
“Then why the hell do you look so worried?” I challenge.
Iceman hesitates for a moment and then sighs. “Because we’re about to fight whatever it is that’s trying to come through the Gate, and I’m worried about how that will affect you. I would just tell you to wait here, but I don’t trust that some demon from the bar wouldn’t try to pull something while we were distracted.”
I swallow. “Oh.”
“Indeed.”
I debate for a second and then square my shoulders. “If this is part of the gig, then I guess it’s best if I see what it’s all about first hand,” I tell him. “You know, it’s best to make informed decisions and all that.”
