Page 72 of Hell Kissed
Loki mewls, transforming before my eyes in a ball of fire that fizzles out into the form of a small gray house cat. The four of us peer down at the little creature now swaying around my ankles
“Why’d he do that?” Aric asks gruffly.
I shrug, but then the tiny creature prowls toward Aric. It sits down promptly and stares up at the man, waiting.
Latham looks hesitantly toward Aric. The dragon shifter cocks his scarred eyebrow, glaring at the pet like it’s a ticking time bomb.
Which I guess he kind of is.
“Why’s he looking at you like that?” Latham asks quietly like any wrong move could have them right back on the cat’s shit list.
Aric tilts his head this way and that. The cat holds the man’s gaze with a poker face I’ve never seen on my sweet kitten.
“Alright, fine!” Aric throws his hands in the air before slipping his hand into his pocket.
He pulls out the bag. Loki’s bag, apparently.
The possessive cat meows as if he’s disappointed at the shifter’s petty theft.
The bag gets laid out on the ground, and Loki swiftly curls up in the center of it.
“I guess he wants to be carried now.” Latham shakes his head at the spoiled brat, while I smile like he’s the cutest little cat in the whole wide world.
“Here.” Latham waves his hand and procures a fine porcelain water bowl as well as a canteen, pouring some water for Loki before passing it to me with a look that says to finish the rest.
I know they’re worried about me. I’m parched, so I don’t hesitate. The cool water is refreshing against my heated, dry throat. All this ash can’t be good for a person’s health.
Then again, when you’re immortal, maybe that’s not a concern.
Aric takes the bowl and squats down to offer it to Loki. Then he pulls out a piece of dried meat from his pocket, and I’m really starting to wonder just what all he has hoarded away in those jeans. He extends the piece of meat to the cat, and watching this monster of a man take to my pet is the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen.
The cat sniffs the meat with a disgusted look before sniffing the contents of the bowl. Loki takes a small pretentious sip, but other than that he gets back to his resting.
Aric shakes his head and pockets the dried meat once more.
“I saw the thing drink fire. I don’t think we have to worry about keeping it hydrated,” Torben grumbles. “The hellcat is useless.” Torben’s clearly not at all appreciating my cat for the badass he apparently is.
“He’s got a damn good bite on him.” Aric winces, rubbing absently at the perfectly healed bite mark on his leg. There’s not even a scar thanks to his advanced healing, but I have a feeling it’s an injury he won’t soon forget.
We let my cat rest for a few minutes while I finish the canteen. When we start off again though, Loki quickly pounces out of his bag that he all but demanded from Aric. He stays close to me, not letting me far from his sights. I smile down at my strange little guardian who might forever be a mystery to me.
All the conversation turns to Loki as we trek up the path that leads to the castle, and I know it’s an easy way for us to move past the heavy moments we’d been in a few minutes earlier. Loki pads along, taking time to occasionally bat at the rustling blades of grass or pounce on weird-looking insects that are so far removed from the mortal realm it’s disconcerting.
When the conversation grows quieter and then stops altogether, I know we’re nearing our destination.
Or worse.
I pick up Loki, pet him between his ears, and quickly pop him back into the bag. “Stay there,” I warn, and he gives me the most sarcastic look, like he can’t believe how our roles have reversed and I’m guarding him.
Either way, I zip the bag shut, leaving just enough space to allow some decent airflow, and move to shoulder the pack before Aric plucks it from my fingers again.
A grateful smile pulls up my lips and then I’m listening to the guys talk strategy, leaving me completely in the dark as to what the hell is going on as they guide me behind a large boulder on the outskirts of the looming castle.
I peer over it as I listen to them talk about a dog or a wolf or something that guards the gate, just making out the shadowy figure of a sleeping creature. The gates to Hell are a huge iron contraption with intricate scenes embossed in the thick, dark metal. A large chain slinks along the ground like a great fiery snake, attaching to a collar full of spikes that protrude outward in every direction from the beast’s enormous neck.
“He looks peaceful,” I murmur, not realizing the soft words will halt the conversation flowing around me to silence.
Aric scoffs and a ghost of a smile graces Latham’s kissable lips. Torben looks to the heavens like they’ll be able to save him, and I prop my hands on my hips.
