Page 70 of Sweet Violence
"Why do you think I was stopped and sent here in the first place?" I asked, an eyebrow raised.
"You tried," Melle guessed, excitement in her eyes.
"Yup."
"And it didn't work," Reaven drawled.
"Eh." I shrugged. "It was worth a shot. I'd have been a hero if I managed to kill the bastard."
Melle nodded fiercely, her eyes sharp. "He needs to go. He's gone soft in his old age. We need to go back to battles for status, instead of handing shit outfairly."
She saidfairlythe way I saidraisins.
"Melle," Reaven said in a fond warning. "You're ranting again."
Melle ducked her head, tucking golden hair behind her pointed ears.
She brought up a valid point, though.
"How oldisthe devil?" I asked, a furrow between my brows.
It was hard to tell with all the red skin, giant form, and monstrous features.
"Older than any of us that's for sure," Lou answered, shrugging her grey shoulders. "No one knows an exact number. Two hundred or so."
Oh, shit.Seriousdaddy vibes.1
"Damn. No wonder the bastard wouldn't go down and stay down." I snorted, shaking my head.2"It'd take a damn army to kill him."
Melle grinned widely. "Yes, it would."
I met her smile with a smirk, feeling like a cat about to pounce on an unsuspecting bird. She was acting mightily sketchy when it came to the devil. She didn't like him, that was for sure. But did that mean she was one of Eidolon's lackeys, or just opposed to Dev running Hell?
Ugh, this was politics and intrigue wasn't it? This mission was supposed to be slicing and dicing and murder. I'd been tricked.
A horn blared before I could say something else to Melle and her surly girlfriend, and I jumped on the bench, my heart slamming into my ribs. Jesus fucking christ, that was loud.
"Attention!" someone yelled when the horn stopped ringing through the hall—and my ears. Oh, goody. It was Trett, his annoyingly normal face sour with seriousness. "Blow your loads; the show's about to start."
I wrinkled my nose, and saw Joseph smirk. "That guy's got alovelyway with words."
X said something, but I couldn't hear him over the sudden surge of skin slapping, carnal moans, and deep, throaty snarls.
I swallowed, trying so fucking hard not to be affected. My incubus wasn't fooled at all; he gave me a long, heated look, promising to take care of me later. I wanted to sneak a kiss, but I was working. And besides, it felt like we were on show, and my kisses were only for my mates, not for a damn audience.
When everyone had finished,3Trett blew his horn again4and a door off to the side of the hall opened, letting in a parade of naked people.
Oh, yay.Anotherorgy.
But on a second glance, this lot didn't look all monstrous like the majority of demons here. And the closer they came to the stage Trett stood on, the more I suspected they weren't demons at all. They were all wan and sickly but with mottled bruising and swollen faces, like they'd already been beaten. Knobbled fingers were locked around a massive crystal bowl, suspending it between them.
Joseph's hand slid along my back, and the touch took the edge off my wary confusion. What the hell were we about to witness? I had a feeling my mates knew, or at least suspected. I couldn't begin to guess. The crystal bowl was big enough for a pug to take a bath in, but if they planned to get lucky in it, they'd struggle to fit.
"You'll like this," Neville told me with a grin. "A woman as bloodthirsty as you … this'll be right up your street."
I faked an excited smile and fixed my eyes back on the scene at the top of the hall, as if I couldn't take my eyes off it. Something queasy sat in my stomach, and I wasn't sure why. I was a serial killer for gods sakes; I didn't come to Hell to grow a conscience.
But maybe it wasn't anything as drastic as that. Maybe I just preferred to be the one doing the killing, than sitting watching it. My hands were definitely itchy for a knife or rope to strangle with.
