Page 56 of Guardian Demon


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“Naiamah, a Queen of Hell. A royal pain in the ass and a crazy-ass bitch.”

“That’s not very nice to say.”

He snorted. “Just wait until you meet her.”

* * *

Naiamah wasone of the most powerful succubi in Hell. One didn’t earn the title of King or Queen of Hell without having serious cred. Raum didn’t know her personally, but he knew enough to know they needed to tread carefully.

A long time ago, she and Bel had had some on-again, off-again sexcapade-type relationship that was the height of dysfunction. Bel had been nearly mindless with rage back then, blowing up at the slightest provocation, and Raum remembered Ash telling him that he suspected Naiamah deliberately tried to rile him up.

All that had been before the four of them teamed up and became brothers, before Raum’s three-hundred-year memory gap even, and he didn’t know the dirty details. All he knew was that Bel hated her now, and hellfire would flicker in his eyes—the first sign of an oncoming temper tantrum—if anyone mentioned her name. So no one ever did.

And now here Raum was, waltzing right into her lair to do business.

To clarify: he was waltzing into a succubus’s lair, which was basically just a giant orgy, with anangelat his side, to buy a forbidden substance from someone who couldn’t recognize him or he’d be dead.

He was feeling really great about his life choices right about now.

Behind him, Sunshine sucked in a breath as they stepped into the dark structure and their eyes adjusted to the shadows.

It was set up like a club, with a dance floor and a stage and a bar at the back of the room. But it was more than that. The stage currently featured a train of a least a dozen people fucking, circling around another foursome in the center. On either side of the stage, bird-like cages hung from the ceiling, full of still more people fucking. The audience was either dancing to the throbbing music—which sounded more like disembodied war drums than club beats—watching the spectacle on the stage, or trying to imitate it themselves.

Around them, in every dark corner available, more people engaged in various sexual acts. Here, gender and sexual orientation were mostly irrelevant. Everyone fucked everyone. Sex was sex, and the potent energy coming from the queen of the establishment ensured all were equally enthralled.

Even Raum, who wanted to get out of here as soon as possible, felt his body hardening in response. His blood felt hot and his head spun, making it hard to focus.

“You good?” he whispered to Sunshine beside him.

She said nothing, so he leaned down, trying to see her face beneath her hood. He could just make out the shimmer of her dark eyes, wide with astonishment, as she stared at her surroundings. He could just bet she’d never seen anything like this before.

“Sunshine?’

“Mm?” Her gaze snapped to his. “Oh, yes.”

“Try to…focus. I know it’s hard in here.”

If he wasn’t mistaken, she was staring at his mouth. “Yes, very hard.”

Shit. Looked like it was up to him to be the sensible one.

Why do I always have to be the sensible one?From the day he’d met Meph in that tavern so long ago, he’d been filling that role, and it was starting to piss him off.

Tapping into that self-control he suddenly really resented, he tamped down the urges rising in him the longer the stared at her. Bold of him to think Sunshine even wanted him like that anyway. How many times did he need to remind himself that angels didn’t experience sexual desire before it sank in?

Grasping her hand, he pulled her into the crowd.

He pushed through various gyrating bodies, careful to ward off any groping hands that might inadvertently pull down their hoods and expose their faces. His half demon form gave him a height advantage over the shorter demons and put him at equal height with the taller ones. If anyone wondered about the cloaks, they’d probably just assume it was some freaky role-play.

Sunshine stayed pressed against his side, and it was hard not to imagine what sort of role-play she’d be into. Probably ‘we’re both holy, pure angels who hold hands and sing. And practice abstinence.’

What felt like a hundred years later, they reached the back of the club, and Raum steered them toward the double doors he saw guarded by two gargoyles.

“Private access only,” one grunted at him as he approached, just loud enough to be heard over the music.

“I have business with Naiamah,” Raum said.

“The mistress won’t see unscheduled customers. Make an appointment and come back then.”