He couldn’t help it. He grinned back.
The meathead punched him in the arm. Hard. “About time, bro.”
Ash rolled his eyes. “Yeah.”
“You deserve it. Who gives a fuck what the female thinks after.”
He realized that unless Bel had told him, Meph didn’t know that Eva could see through his curse. He opened his mouth to tell him but shut it again. Strangely, he didn’t feel like talking about Eva with anyone. He figured it was probably because it had been so long since he’d had enjoyable sex, he wanted to avoid the inevitable cross-examination he was going to get when he told his brothers about it.
Meph was still grinning that lopsided smile. “I never understood why you don’t just blindfold them. Or do them from behind. No face, just ass. Problem solved.”
Ash mentally reaffirmed his decision not to talk about Eva. “Maybe I have higher standards than you. Now get out of here because I actually want to shower before all the hot water’s gone.”
“What are we going to do about the Hunter?”
“I don’t know, but we can start by getting Raum back here.”
“I’ll call him again. He slunk out somewhere last night and probably got lucky so he’s taking his time coming back. Like someone else I know, hey, champ?” Meph punched his shoulder again. “How’s it feel to do the walk of shame?”
“It feels like I want to shower without my annoying brother in the room with me.”
“Spoilsport.”
“Get out of here and find Raum.”
“What do we do if Bel loses it again?”
“Same thing as before. Throw water on him. Walk on eggshells.”
“I get seriously sick of his shit sometimes.”
“At least we’re not in Hell. It could be so much worse.”
They exchanged knowing looks, remembering how bad Belial’s rage attacks could get when his powers weren’t dampened as they were on Earth.
“Ain’t that the truth,” Meph said.
10
HeadHunter
Maybe their luck was turning, because when Ash got out of the shower, Raum had returned, and the worst of Belial’s rage seemed to have passed. Ash found everyone in the dining room, eating risotto. Food always had a way of chilling Belial out—a damned miracle.
He remembered the days before Bel had cooking as an outlet for his infamous temper. Nothing and no one could stop it from blowing or calm the storm until it had reached its natural conclusion. It had made him a legend in Hell. He had fan clubs and groupies and even an underworld pub named after him.
But now, he had food. And thanks to food, their apartment building had not burned down. It was a good day.
Ash took the fourth chair and watched his brothers digging in. Raum, the jackass, just shoveled it down and gave no explanations for where he’d been. He sprawled in his chair, the hood of his oversized sweatshirt over his head, the scowl on his face daring them to challenge him.
“You want some?” Bel asked Ash. He was back to his usual self, and no one was going to say a word about it. That was always how they rolled—they’d figured out long ago that if they mentioned the rage, they were flirting with another disaster.
“I’m good.”
Flames sparked in Bel’s eyes.
“Sure, I’ll have some,” Ash quickly amended.
“Great.” Belial rose to his towering height and went to the kitchen. He returned with a bowl for Ash, and they ate in silence. Bel never expected him to make any comments on the taste of the food—they all knew he didn’t taste a thing—but he still expected him to eat.
