Sasha cringed. She did not want to know what her mother thought wile was a euphemism for.
“Do you need some motherly advice? On the wiles?”
“No! Mother, I do not want tips on using my wiles from you. Thank you.”
Jay’s lips twitched. Sasha wished she still had the poker so she could thump him with it.
“If you’re sure, sweetie…”
“I’m extremely sure.”
The last manacle didn’t crack open like the others had, but Jay managed to warp the metal enough to squeeze his hand out, leaving a chunk of his skin behind. As if that was their cue, the minions went into a frenzy, scuttling forward and darting into the light only to retreat again, snarling and hissing.
“Gotta go, Mom.” Hell’s attacking. “Merry Christmas.”
She hit End before she heard her mother’s reply and pocketed the cell phone. She handed Jay her Walther semi-automatic and an extra clip. He grinned, chambering a round like a pro. “Your wiles are great, by the way.”
“Shut up, you.” With a Desert Eagle in her left hand and a throwing knife in her right, she was as ready for Hell’s fury as she would ever be.
A minion came into range and Jay fired first, earning a squeal and a hasty retreat, but others were circling closer, coming at them from all sides. “Back to back.” Before she could turn her back on him, Jay caught her arm with his free hand and pulled her in for a fast, hard kiss.
He released her, firing a round over her shoulder and gaining another high-pitched shriek before putting his back to her. She spun and put her shoulder blades against his, her lips still tingling.
“What was that? For luck?”
His hand brushed her thigh below the holster. “Your mouth has been distracting me since you walked in. Can’t afford any distractions right now.”
Sasha pursed her lips, trying not to smile, but she could feel the corners curling upward. Smooth bastard. Who the hell was this guy?
Then minions rushed them and she stopped smiling.
Chapter Eight
When the Hordes of Hell Attack
Sasha flung the knife at the first black-shelled insect thing that scuttled into the light. The blade bounced off with a metallic plink and clattered to the ground. “Shit.” She squeezed the trigger. The bug erupted into a violet fireball. “Holy mother,” Sasha swore, staggering away from the blast. The Desert Eagle had virtually no kick, but the minion exploded like she’d tagged it with a rocket launcher.
“Angel fire,” Jay explained, his voice as steady as the metronome repetition of the Walther’s report.
Demonic screams made her ears ache, but before their fallen comrade had even stopped burning more minions were crawling over the ashy remains to get to her. Sasha fired twice in quick succession and two more explosions of violet fire lit the shadows—shadows that were roiling with black figures.
I don’t have that many bullets.
“Jay, we need an exit.” She fired two more times. Two more incinerated demons, two fewer rounds in the clip. “Now.”
“Get to a wall.” His voice was perfectly calm, like they were discussing which movie to see on a regular Friday night. “We’ll make an exit.”
Sasha wasn’t sure she liked that plan—blasting your way out tended to have the nasty side effect of bringing the building down on top of you. She began inching toward the nearest wall anyway, trusting he knew his way around Hell.
They’d only made it a few feet when Jay staggered against her, swearing.
“Are you hit?”
“No, but I think they’ve figured out the regular bullets won’t kill them.”
Oh, that is definitely not good. That limited their effective ammo to the freakish angel-rounds.
Sasha ducked beneath Jay’s arm and pivoted in front of him, firing three quick bursts at compass points to send the minions scurrying back. “My right hip. Take the other Desert Eagle.”
Jay loosed the other gun from the holster and took aim, but the trigger just clicked repeatedly.
She could have sworn she’d checked the clip. “Empty?” Goddamn angel gave me an empty gun.
“It won’t let me fire it. I don’t have the right blood. Here.” Jay shoved the Desert Eagle at her and slid the katana from her spine-sheath.
The sword gleamed, reflecting the bursts of angel fire. Jay bent over it, whispering guttural words over the metal. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him nick his finger on the blade. His blood bubbled up for a moment, then the blade flashed and absorbed the dark red demon’s blood, drinking it down. Catching her eye, Jay grinned ferally and swung the katana in a sweeping arc, slicing through three demons in a single strike. They fell and didn’t move again.
“Much better,” he growled, taking a professional stance and slashing into the writhing horde.
Sasha got out of his way and edged toward the wall again, picking her targets carefully and going for twofers whenever possible to conserve ammo. But all too soon, the first Desert Eagle clicked empty. She holstered it and braced both hands around her remaining weapon—which fired three more shots and then clicked dreadfully hollow. “I’m out.”
“What? How’s that possible?”
“Guns only fire the number of rounds they can hold, Jay. That’s how these things work.”
“It’s an angelic gun.”
“It still needs bullets,” Sasha snapped, retreating quickly and losing all the ground she’d gained toward the wall when the demons surged forward.
Jay cursed. “Give it to me.” Still wielding the katana one-handed, he extended a hand to her for the gun.
Sasha slapped it into his palm, taking her attention off the demonic minions for a fraction too long. They charged forward, knocking her legs out from under her.
“Sasha!” Jay shouted and she saw another dozen rush him as she disappeared beneath a black tide.
The first thing any stunt performer learns is how to fall without hurting herself—but that lesson’s effectiveness depended on the hordes of Hell not following her onto the ground and trying to slash her open with their claws.
She rolled to the ground, half a dozen demons swarming over her.
Her years of martial arts training would have been put to very good use—except martial arts were built around human physiology. These demonic creatures weren’t humanoid in their movements or their reactions. Minions apparently came in all different shapes and sizes, but they all moved like insects. Sasha had no idea where to punch or kick insects to disable them. Squashing had always been her preferred method of debilitation.
Karma’s a bitch.
Sasha shielded her face with her arms and tucked her knees to her chest as the demons slashed at her. Thick black claws dug parallel gashes in her forearms. She screamed as the skin and flesh ripped, blood splattering out.
A sizzling sound and black smoke rose up where her blood touched the minions, burning them like acid. They screamed and snarled, retreating from her in a wave.
Great, my superpower is bleeding on people. ’ Cuz that’s not inconvenient.
Jay was at her side in an instant, pulling her to her feet and slapping the grip of the Desert Eagle against her palm. “It’s reloaded. How bad?”
“I’m fine. It’s nothing. Where did you get the ammo?”
“Magic.” He kept one arm around her as he swung the katana in a poetic arc. With the blood dripping from her forearm keeping the minions back on one side and Jay’s sword on the other, they made it to the stone wall. He nudged the hand holding the reloaded Desert Eagle. “Fire at the wall.”
And bring the room down around our ears. Check.
Sasha hesitated a moment before squeezing the trigger. Fifteen minutes ago she’d wondered if she could ever trust another word out of Jay’s mouth and now she was about to fire into a stone wall in Hell on nothing more than his say so. Sending a blast of angel fire into the wall was somehow so much easier than breaching the walls around her heart.
The wall burst inwar
d with a whoosh, the edges peeling back like a warp drive engaging. Jay hauled her through the opening before she had a chance to question the wisdom of jumping into a black hole in Hell. With a squeal and a clatter of claws, the minions scrambled after them. Jay decapitated—or at least chopped off large, headlike appendages from—the ones stupid or determined enough to follow them through.
She raised the Desert Eagle to fire into the opening, but Jay shook his head sharply. “Let it heal.”
She blinked, realizing what he meant. The hole in the wall—or wound, apparently—knit behind them, sealing off the last snarls of the minions.
Sasha rested the Desert Eagle against her thigh, cradling her other arm to keep the blood from dripping down onto her hand and slicking her grip. Her breathing sounded unnaturally loud in the sudden hush of the new chamber. She was panting like she’d run ten miles, but Jay was icy calm, coolly controlled.
His bare chest was filthy and covered with blood, but the strength on display there was enough to make her mouth water. The face she’d always thought of as mild and inoffensive was cut in harsh, intense lines of concentration. He exuded strength and control—which was sexy as all hell.
Gotta love a man who can go through Hell looking that good.
Sasha threw up a mental stop sign. She did not have to love that man—or rather, that demon. He’d lied to her for months. Sure, she’d never been as turned on by him as she was right now, but how could she trust him?
Now that she could breathe again, she wasn’t even sure she wanted to get him out of Hell.
To get her eyes off his abs, Sasha surveyed this new quarter of the Underworld.
The room they’d stumbled into resembled a Turkish palace more than anything else. Fabrics with geometric patterns in a symphony of vibrant colors draped the walls and columns around the room. Curving stairs led down to a pool at the center of the room, beneath a domed ceiling tiled with a breathtaking mosaic. There were no light fixtures, but sunlight seemed to seep through the walls, making the room as bright as a desert at midday. The overall effect was beautiful, lush and decadent. More paradise than purgatory.
“Wow.”
Jay grunted and strode to the nearest hanging. He tore a strip from the cloth a little more viciously than was strictly necessary, and returned to her side, briefly examining the cuts in her arm before binding it tightly in the turquoise fabric.
“What is this place?”
“No place we want to stay,” he said sharply.
“I’m still deciding if I want to go anywhere with you,” she warned him, flexing her arm to test the mobility of the bandage. It was perfect—tight enough to be firm, but loose enough to allow movement. This new Jay obviously had triage experience. Wasn’t he just full of surprises tonight?
“You can decide to hate me when we’re out of this room.”
“This seems like a perfectly good place to decide whether or not I want to hate you.”
He grimaced. “Looks can be deceiving. Especially here. Let’s go.”
Sasha was tempted to slip her hand out of his grasp when he tried to pull her toward a fabric-covered arch at the opposite end of the room, but she wasn’t feeling quite that stupid. Liar or not, Jay knew Hell and while she might not trust him to be honest with her, he’d proven he could protect her. Until they were topside, protection was valued at a premium.
She hustled in his wake, though she spared a longing glance at the clean fresh water in the pool. Being covered in sticky gore—particularly her own—had never really been a favorite pastime, and she didn’t trust minion claws not to be infected with something nasty. But apparently washing her arm was a delay they couldn’t afford. The tension in Jay’s shoulders told her wherever they were, it wasn’t where they wanted to be.
“Leaving so soon, darling? And here I was hoping you would introduce me to your little friend.”
The voice was purring, sweet and high—sugar coating every word—and it still made chills shoot down Sasha’s spine.
Jay slammed on the brakes. “Fuck. Don’t say anything,” he hissed hurriedly before he turned toward the voice. Sasha could see each muscle in his body lock down Fort Knox-tight. “Jezebeth.” The word was a curse and did nothing to quiet Sasha’s deafening unease.
“Jevroth. For shame. Is that any way to greet your mother?”
Sasha’s vague sense of dread solidified. Lovely. The in-laws.
Chapter Nine
Hell Hath No Fury Like Satan’s Mistress
The demoness Jezebeth didn’t look like anyone’s mother, but if ever a woman was sultry enough to tempt Lucifer himself, she’d just walked into the room.
Petite and feminine, her lush curves were accentuated rather than concealed by the crimson bikini-mini-skirt-and-straps concoction she was almost wearing. Sasha had seen exotic dancers in more modest clothing. Jezebeth’s unbound hair swirled like a midnight cloud around her hips as she oozed toward them, a sexy little pout on her lips. She didn’t look like she had a maternal bone in her body.
Jay put a hand on Sasha’s hip and guided her behind him so his broad shoulders partially blocked her view. His chest seemed to expand as he loomed protectively between her and his mother. His petite, utterly harmless-looking mother.
Looks are deceiving. Especially here.
“You weren’t going to leave without seeing me, were you, Jevroth? After all the trouble I’ve gone to bringing you home?” She almost sang the words, kitten-soft and petulant like a child, but Sasha heard the threat in them.
The Bettie Page demoness who looked about twenty years too young to be Jay’s mommy began circling them, kitten heels clacking on the Turkish marble tiles. Jay shifted slowly as she circled, keeping his body between them.
“No, my son wouldn’t do that. Not when he knows how it would reflect on me.” Jezebeth caught the trailing edge of one of the gauzy hangings, running it through her fingers. “And not when he knows how I’ve been longing to meet his girlfriend.”
Sasha couldn’t help it. She snorted out a laugh.
Jezebeth’s smile was arctic, dangerous. “Amused, my dear?”
Jay shot her a dark look over his shoulder. A shut-the-fuck-up look if she’d ever seen one, but something reckless uncoiled in Sasha’s breast and she shot him a go-screw-yourself look and smiled sweetly. “It’s just that I’ve been trying to get Jay to meet my parents for ages. I can totally empathize.”
Jay made a choking noise, turning a little purple as she bonded with his mother.
Jezebeth studied her, eyes narrowed as she judged everything about her. “You’re a lovely thing, aren’t you? But then I suppose I should have expected as much, considering your lineage. You have his look about you. Around the eyes, mostly.”
Whose look? “Wh—”
“I never get to meet Jevroth’s ladyloves.” Jezebeth pouted, cutting off Sasha’s question in favor of the sound of her own voice. “You’d almost think he was ashamed of me.”
“My mother said almost exactly the same thing. I tried to explain that it had nothing to do with her. Jay’s commitment issues are his own problem.”
“Sasha.” Jay’s shut-the-fuck-up look was getting more forceful by the second.
“No, no, Jevroth, she’s only telling the truth. And I know exactly what she means,” Jezebeth said, her black eyes flashing angrily. “Try waiting a couple millennia for your lover to commit to you, flitting off on affairs with succubi whenever he bloody well pleases but unleashing the wrath of Hell if you even look at another demon lord. Men.”
When she put it that way, Jezebeth did have a teensy bit more grounds for complaint than Sasha did in her measly six-month affair with a lying son-of-a-demon.
“But he’s mine now. Him and all the Dominions of Hell,” Jezebeth purred and Sasha experienced the unsettling sensation of feeling sorry for Lucifer. “And I’m sure you realize, my dear, I won’t be allowing anything to jeopardize that. Especially not some pipsqueak angels’ pawn with a Champion’s contract.”
And here they’d been getting along so well.
“Nothing personal, darling, but if you think you’re going to take Jay out of here tonight and derail the plan I spent four hundred years developing, I’m afraid you’re about to discover what real evil looks like.”
Jay had gotten out of position, letting Jezebeth creep around for a better angle on Sasha, but now he moved to block her entirely, giving her a great view of his muscular back and nothing else.
“Out of the way, Jevroth.”
“Touch her over my dead body,” Jay growled, raising the katana.
“Do you dare threaten your own mother?”
“You threaten Sasha.”
“You would challenge the Queen of Hell for a mortal girl you haven’t even known a year?” Jezebeth laughed sharply. “I raised you to be smarter than that.”
“You raised me to pick my battles. I pick this one.”
A deep voice rippled across the chamber, rich with power. “You aren’t having a battle without me, are you?”
“Luc.” Sasha couldn’t see Jezebeth, but she could clearly hear her voice raise to a wheedling baby-talk pitch. “Jevroth won’t let me kill the angels’ little pawn.”
“That is quite cruel of him,” the voice of Luc—which Sasha really hoped wasn’t short for Lucifer—replied.
She heard footsteps and then a tall, blond man with crystal-blue eyes came into view. For a moment, Sasha stopped breathing and just stared. He made Uriel’s heart-stopping angelic beauty pale in comparison. Charisma and a sense of power poured off him. A white dress shirt and tailored pants were hardly demonic attire, but Sasha knew instantly that this was the most famous fallen angel to ever exist. The Morning Star, Light Bringer and ruler of the Underworld. Lucifer, the Prince of Darkness himself.
“Jay,” Satan said casually, nodding to her lover. “Good to see you.”
“Sir.” Jay lowered the katana slightly, bowing his head.
My boyfriend is on a first-name basis with the Devil. Sasha’s brain shut down in protest.
“Your mother seems set on killing someone,” the Root of All Evil said conversationally. He studied Sasha from head to foot, as if searching for the source of his bride’s irritation. “I do hate to disappoint her.”
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