“What the hell?” He glared at her, and she was immediately transfixed by those midnight-blue eyes.
“Smoking is gross.”
“I like it.”
“It smells nasty.”
“I can’t smell.”
“It’s addicting.”
“I don’t care.”
“It’s bad for the environment.”
“I don’t care about the environment.”
“You should care! The more you damage the Earth, the less enjoyable it will be for you to live here in the future when all the resources are used up, the air is polluted, there’s garbage in the rivers, and all the forests have been cut down!”
She suddenly realized she was shouting and shut up. Then she realized their argument had nothing to do with smoking or the environment and was really about something else altogether.
Still glaring, he crossed his arms, making his biceps bulge.That hair. Those eyes...
She wanted him. It didn’t matter if that made her a demon consort, devil worshiper, or in need of serious therapy. She still wanted him. And she wasn’t sure what to do with that information.
“You’re right,” she said suddenly, not ready to think about it yet. “We should go.”
She might still want him, but it didn’t change the fact that he’d blatantly told her he was only interested in her for sex. His emotions might say otherwise, but she told herself that he needed to learn how to understand them before she would consider anything more.
She stood. He stood too. They stared at each other for a moment, and then he gestured toward the door. “After you.”
Right, then. She turned and slid the heavy glass door open, slipping back inside. She was too aware of Ash coming in behind her. Too aware, because it felt like she had turned her back on a fire. She could feel heat on her neck and a sort of tingling that made her want to spin around and look again. To stare into the fire in fascination and never look away.
Mishetsumephtai the Hunter ghosted up the side of the concrete building and reformed on the roof. As soon as he took physical form, the sizable hole in his throat began gushing blood, but he ignored it. He was used to suffering.
The persistent hum of multiple air conditioning units filled the air, and the noxious fumes of scented laundry gusted from numerous vents, causing his sensitive nose to wrinkle. What was it about the human world that fascinated others of his kind? Parts of it were hardly an improvement from Hell.
And what was it about human females that made them willingly submit? Humans were soft and seemingly harmless, and yet this was not the first time Mist had witnessed a powerful demon fight his nature to cater to a female’s wellbeing. Nor was it the first time he had witnessed a female’s apparent acceptance of a demon’s true form.
Asmodeus was unaware Mist had been eavesdropping when he had admitted his “feelings,” and Mist felt quite sure he wouldn’t have spoken of them had he known. That a Prince of Hell was capable of “feelings” was... unsettling.
It was true Asmodeus had severely wounded Mist during their fight, but vapor could not bleed, and it had been simple enough to remain in his nonphysical form while he followed the car to this secondary location. Which also appeared to be the hiding place of Belial, Raum, and Mephistopheles. And, though wards prevented him from entering the apartment, thanks to the conversation he’d just overheard, he now knew exactly where they were going.
Mission accomplished.
It was time to return to Hell and report, since reinforcements would be required in order to force Belial’s compliance.
And yet... Mist hesitated. Again.
Indeed he had faltered in his duty once before. He had broken the rules. The remembrance caused his heart to thump and his tail to flick nervously. Rule breakers were punished. The consequences were never worth the infraction.
So why did he persist in this rebellion?
Why did he protect those that owed him nothing? Why was he sitting upon this roof, holding his ruined throat together while his blood spilled over his fingers, pondering Asmodeus’s relationship with a human instead of reporting his whereabouts to Paimon? And why was the Duke of Hell Eligos still safely ensconced in his oceanfront hideout with his human lover? Mist had proclaimed him destroyed rather than revealing his location, and he still wasn’t sure why.
The last time he had checked on Eligos and Natalie, he’d found them sharing a meal upon a blanket at the top of the cliffs, Natalie’s small frame intertwined with Eligos’s hulking, monstrous one.
It was bizarre. It waswrong. A violation of so many rules it was impossible to count. And yet, Mist could not erase the gnawing hunger and emptiness that consumed him when he pictured himself in their shoes.
