Iris had been equally exhausted and traumatized after they’d stepped through the gate and landed back in Mist’s bedroom, and as far as Lily knew, she had used Belial’s enormous shower and then fallen asleep on the sofa. Lily also knew there was a danger of Iris and Meph stabbing each other, so she figured it was a good idea to go check on her and make sure everything was okay.
Slipping under Mist’s heavy arm, she dressed quickly and headed to the door, stopping to look back at the big demon sleeping peacefully. Her heart felt like it would burst, and she had to go back and kiss him before she could make herself leave.
After a quick trip to the bathroom to wash, she headed down the hall to find her sister.
Unsurprisingly, Belial was in the kitchen, stirring a big pot of something on the stove. He gave no greeting at her arrival, nor did his expression change in any way.
“Hi.” She was pleased to hear her voice didn’t squeak. Facing off Paimon had strengthened her backbone, apparently. “That smells delicious.”
“Your sister’s still asleep.”
“Oh. Um, thanks.”
He glanced at her sidelong. “You’re lucky Meph has been pulling his disappearing act lately. Don’t think she likes him much.”
“Sorry about that.” She hated that her sister’s acerbic personality might strain things with their hosts. Demons or not, they were gracious ones.
He shrugged. “I don’t blame her. I don’t like him either.”
She smiled to herself but refrained from mentioning the note of affection in his voice that belied his words.
“Oh, wow, it’s later than I thought.” The clock over the stove said it was nearly midnight.
Crossing to and from Hell had messed with her perception of time. She couldn’t even remember what time of day it had been when they’d left in the first place, let alone when she’d fallen asleep.
“Hungry?”
“I am, thank you.”
She perched on one of the barstools across the island, and Belial served her a steaming bowl of soup. It was delicious, and she ate so quickly, her tongue was considerably burnt by the end. He served her a second and had one himself, and neither of them spoke the entire time.
When they finished, she washed their bowls and then set them in the dish drainer.
“Thank you,” she said, turning to face the imposing demon now hunched over a recipe book.
He flicked his hand in a dismissive gesture, not looking away.
“Not just for the soup.”
He pulled out an electric mixer from one cupboard and baking supplies from another. Then he uncovered a bowl of egg whites that appeared to have been sitting out for some time.
“I mean about making that deal with Murmur to get him to help us.”
“Wasn’t just for you.” He started pouring sugar into a measuring cup. “Eva guilted me into it.”
“Well, if it wasn’t for Murmur—for you—there’s no way we would have made it out of there. So thank you.”
The sugar bag was set aside, and finally, he turned to face her. Their gazes met, and it felt like she was being electrocuted by his eyes. “You’re welcome.”
“Do you think we can trust him? Murmur, I mean?”
“Not even a bit.”
She forced a feeble smile. “Good to know.”
His brow lifted. “You might want to wake up your sister now because I’m about to do it myself with the eggbeater.”
“What are you making?”
