Oh, I did not like the sound of that. “What is it?” I asked through gritted teeth.
“Joriel.” She crossed her arms over her chest and frowned at me.
I could feel my temper straining against my control. I was usually a patient person, but I’d also never been afraid to be ruthless when the situation called for it. It was how I had no problem killing demons with my hands and teeth.
But Laila wasn’t an enemy, and no good would come from blowing up at her.
“Fine,” I said. “I promise.” Every muscle in my body still felt coiled and ready to spring.
“It’s a claiming tattoo,” Laila said.
“Awhat?”
“It’s like a signature. It marks an… arrangement between Roth and me.”
“What kind of arrangement?”
“It means demons can only make deals with me through him. He said since I never agreed to come here, the laws of Hell protect me physically. No one can touch me without my permission, but I can still make deals. The tattoo means I can’t be tricked into agreeing to something without realizing it. Anyone who wants to make a deal with me has to go to Roth.”
“You called it a claiming.”
“It’s just a name, Jor. It doesn’t mean anything, and the tattoo will fade eventually. Once we get out of Hell, my skin will reject the ink and heal the mark.”
I hated the idea of the man who was responsible for her being in Hell offering her his protection and laying any kind of claim, but if it kept Laila safer, I could live with it.
I reached for her hand and slowly raised it to my lips, pressing a kiss over her knuckles. “As long as it keeps you safe and Astaroth keeps his hands off you, it won’t be a problem for me.”
“Just to be clear, I have no interest in Roth touching me, but whose hands are or are not on me is not up to you.”
“I know.” I had no claim on her no matter how much I wanted to make her mine and no one else’s, to hold on to her and never let go.
* * *
Mammon’s mansionwas on a stretch of road that cut through the middle of a peninsula. Three mansions sat on either side of the road, and it ended at Lucifer’s palace.
Much like Astaroth’s place, Mammon had a huge entry hall that could easily host a gala without anyone ever needing to venture farther into the house. I’d never in my life seen a room dripping with quite so much opulence. The Prince of Greed clearly lived by the “more is better” motto. Chandeliers dripping with jewels hung over our heads, and the walls were crammed with artwork and other decorations. It was well past the line of too much, in my opinion.
“Whoa,” Laila whispered at my side.
I had to agree. The room was a lot to take in. The space was filled with demons, all dressed in formal wear in varying levels of revealing. I was wearing a suit that Carter had found for me somewhere. I’d chosen not to ask.
“Mammon likes to collect things, sometimes beautiful, sometimes not,” Astaroth said on Laila’s other side.
“And where is our host?” she asked.
“Over by the staircase. He’s the one surrounded by the women in glittery bikinis.”
Physically, Mammon and I looked about the same age. Now that I was looking at him, he was impossible to miss. Not just because of his flashy clothes and multiple necklaces. He gave off an aura of power. It was subtle, but it was very much there.
“I’d recommend avoiding him,” Astaroth murmured. “He’s a selfish asshole.”
“And the rest of you aren’t?” I asked.
“We all have our sins,” he replied. “The key is understanding how to navigate each of those sins. And then there are a few of us who are just miserable to be around ninety percent of the time.”
“And you’re telling us this now?”
“Jor,” Laila hissed before turning her attention back to Astaroth. “Who do you recommend we avoid?”
