by Julia Mills
(Yeah, eternity in Hell is gonna be…well, Hell…)
Chapter Two
“That’s better, Heidi. You’re getting the hang of it.” Luci’s shrill voice and claps of joy echoed through my torture chamber as she instructed me on the proper way to use a whip to flay the skin from my victims as opposed to taking chunks out of them because and I quote, “You don’t want them to bleed out too fast or lose consciousness too soon, that’ll just ruin all the fun for you.”
“Yeah, okay, whatever you say Pretty Pink Princess of Hell.” Lola was not a Luci fan.
“Don’t forget to flick your wrist at the very end. It adds that extra special turn of the popper and makes such a wonderful cracking noise that really gets your victim hopping.”
I was on day four of training with the happiest, peppiest person in the Underworld, whose southern draw made even torture seem like she was reading from a children’s book. I was coming to terms with my new surroundings, understanding that Hell sucked and realizing that this gig was forever…like eternity…no bail, no early release, no appeals.
About an hour into our session, Hunter appeared and as usual Luci made a big production out of kissing his cheek and holding onto his arm. I knew it was all for show but had yet to work up the nerve to ask what exactly was going on with Bert and why she was marrying my Hunky Hellhound when it was obvious neither one of them were into it.
And it wasn’t all my imagination or wishful thinking…really, it wasn’t. Every time Hunter showed up, and it had escalated to three or four times a day since our first meeting, (Which Luci continually commented on and thought it was because of her and his excitement over their wedding…as if,) he would lean his head down and shine those baby blues through his impossibly long, thick lashes right at me. It took every bit of my restraint not to fall at his feet and proclaim myself his love slave. He was my kryptonite. It was as simple as that.
Walking to the far side of the room, I practiced my skills on the rack with the miscellaneous body parts Luci had had someone less fortunate than myself fashion into a torture dummy for me. I would like to tell you that I did not listen to Luci and Hunter’s conversation, but the one thing I never do is lie. No seriously, even when I was an attorney, I was known for my blatant honesty. Which, now that I look back, could’ve been toned down a bit, but that’s the past and right now I’m trying to maneuver Hell and keep myself from ending up in someone else’s little shop of horrors.
“But darlin’, we’re supposed to have dinner with daddy tonight.” Luci whined.
“Yes, I know, but this cannot wait. My father needs me to head the hunting party for a band of ne'er-do-well ghouls. He has spoken to Lucifer and all is well. We’ve rescheduled for next week.” Hunter said, making my knees weak when the word ‘rescheduled’ came out as ‘resheduled’. (What is it about a man with a British accent that makes us Yank girls go nuts? Come on, you know what I mean?)
I could hear the pout in her voice and had to look to make sure I was right. Sure as shit, Hell’s Princess had her bottom lip thrust out so far I was afraid she might trip over it. Her already grating voice was at least an octave higher and she was batting her eyes, pretending to keep the tears away as she faux sobbed, “But that means I have to wait until next week to get my present.”
Rolling his eyes, Hunter removed her hand from his arm, took a step to the side and sighed, “I’m sure your father will give you your present if you ask for it?”
Immediately resorting to what I was now calling the ‘Luci Happy Dance’, the Princess began to hop up and down on her yellow (Yes, I said yellow because of course, they matched her shocking yellow capris with matching daisy print *shudder* blouse. No, Cosmo does not deliver to Hell, hence the fashion don’ts I am subjected to on a daily basis.) wedge-heeled sandals, clap her hands and squeal, “Yay!” at the top of her lungs.
Now, I have to admit that I had already concluded that Luci was bat-shit crazy but I figured it was a by-product of the whole daughter of the Devil gig, so I had excused it. HOWEVER, now, she was dissing my man. Yes, I said, MY MAN. (No, I haven’t told him, so keep that judgy look on your face to yourself.) How in the seven circles of Hell did this chick think not getting a present from her daddy was worse than missing a date with my Hunky Hellhound? Had she lost her last black marble? But wait, there’s more…
Without further ado or even a finger wave goodbye, Luci was running out of my dungeon mumbling something about ‘Daddy and a Lamborghini’. To which I replied, “If that freaking car is pink, I swear I will set it on fire,” under my breath.
The masculine chuckle that reached my ear a second before Hunter was spinning me around and slamming his lips to mine, was music to my ears…and his kiss was a symphony to every other parts of me and I do mean Every. Other. Part of me. I swear, my thighs went up in flames.
His hands were immediately on my butt. Mine were instantly tangled in his long silky mane. The tip of his tongue demanded entrance and I was more than happy to oblige. He tasted me like I was the first food he’d had in weeks and baby, let me tell you, I gave as good as I got. (I think it’s worth mentioning that Hunter’s kiss even shocked the shit out of Lola. She only got out one “Oh, God, yes. Get him naked.” Thank the Dark Lord because I was digging my own grave just fine without a cheering section.)
I never wanted ‘our moment’ to end but since we’re in Hell, the land of endless torment, the sound of footsteps approaching my chamber had Hunter jumping away from me and whispering, “Meet me at the Gates at midnight.” Opening my mouth to answer, my words were cut off as Bert came bopping in and my Hunky Hellhound exited with a wink and grin.
Breathing a sigh of relief as the man, who could stomp him to a greasy spot with little or no effort, was leaving the room, Bert clomped over to me, dragging an empty bucket behind him and asked, “Can I talk to you?”
I watched as the imp turned the bucket over, flopped his hiney on the bottom that was now the top and raised his eyebrows, waiting for me to answer. Pushing Lola back into her cage, I sighed and nodded, “Sure. Why not? I guess training is over for tonight.”
Smiling so big I got to see not only his top fangs but some of the bottom ones too, Bert asked, “Did Luci tell you?”
Trying not to roll my eyes, I asked, “Tell me what?”
Looking at his hands and wobbling his head back and forth, he grinned, “About us?”
“Oh! That?” I nodded, wondering if chopping off my own ears would be considered chic in the Underworld. “Not in so many words, but I got the gist when I saw you two together.”
Bouncing up and down on his butt, clapping his hands and banging his heels against the bucket, (Now, I see why they like each other.) the imp chuckled, “Oh yay, I’m so glad. I really need someone to talk to. It’s not like I can just say, hey, so I like the Princess and she likes me, so what do you think I should do about breaking up her wedding, to just anybody. Am I right?”
“I see your point,” I agreed, my libido and Lola finally quieting down enough that I could see where this situation might just work in my favor.
Pulling up the stool Luci had taught me to use as a block when beheading my victims, I sat down, leaned forward and with a conspiratorial whisper said, “What exactly do you want to do?”
“I want to marry her,” he blurted out before slapping his hand over his mouth and looking over his shoulder to be sure no one else had heard. Reiterating, “I want to marry her,” with a whisper this time through his fingers, he added, “And live happily ever after.”
Happily ever after? Did this green-skinned, bulbous-lipped imp with a heart of gold really just say he wanted happily ever after with the Princess of Hell? “Why, yes, Heidi, he did. He really did.” (At this point, I was letting Lola comment because, honestly, I was too flabbergasted to speak.)
Keeping my composure, as I had so many times in court, I tapped my chin with my forefinger like I was thinking and said, “Okay. It’s good to have goals. Does Luci feel the same way?”
Nodding so hard he almost fell off the bucket, Bert quickly answered, “Yes.” Then his smile turned upside-down and he whined, “But her dad says she has to marry Hunter. Something about combining their bloodlines and making the Devil stronger.” (Aha! Now, we’re getting somewhere.)
Holding back my enthusiasm, I asked, “And Cerberus is okay with this ‘blending of power’?”
Leaning forward, his eyes so big I could see every broken capillary and weird little grey spot, Bert whispered, “Oh, heck no. He doesn’t know. He thinks the Dark Lord is showing favor on his family by choosing his first human-born son to wed his daughter.” (And the plot thickens.)
“Human-born?”
“Yeah, Hunter is the first ever human-born son of Cerberus.” I motioned for him to continue when he paused and looked over his shoulder for the tenth time. “See, there are hellhounds – little h, and Hellhounds – capital H. Hellhounds with a little h are the dogs born to the bitches Cerberus knocks up. They are born as hounds and will stay hounds forever.”
He stopped, pulled out a pack of gum, offered me a piece to which I politely declined, (It was chartreuse and slimy. Sorry, that’s where I draw the line.) stuck a piece in his mouth and continued, “The ones with a capital H are like you. Well, they were before Hunter was born and I guess they still are, however, Hunter was born that way not cursed like you. But either way, you guys can be human when you want to be and a hound when you want to be. You’re Shifters.”
He stopped, hopped off his bucket and clomped over to the sink to get a drink of water at which time I wondered, when does the ‘shifting’ portion of my gig kick in? To date, I had only been me - no claws, no fur, no tail and no more snarling than usual – just me. Making a mental note to ask Hunter about the whole shifting thing, when I saw him later, (Come on, you knew I was gonna go. I’m obviously not a saint. I am in Hell, after all.) I waited as Bert made his way back to me, took his seat and began again.
“Only Lucifer knew of the prophecy made by one of the Demon Lords, Vassago. The one that said ‘the Hellhound born to shift will find his mate in the one that cannot and once together, they will wield a power even greater than that of the Devil himself. As you can imagine, Lucifer was a little freaked. He was in no way ready to give up his throne, so he came up with a plan. He brought Luci here from where she was running the show in Limbo and made sure she and Hunter became friends. Then when they got older, the Devil practically forced them to date and finally offered Cerberus unlimited reign over the Gates of Hell if the Head Hound would convince his son to marry Luci.”
Bert’s oversized head dropped into his pudgy hands and he mumbled, “But Luci doesn’t love him. She never did. She loves me.” His mutter turned into a whine, “And I love her.” Raising his head, he pleaded, “You have to help me, Heidi. You just have to.” Whining turned to pleading, “Pleeeaaaaassseeee. You’re my last hope. You’re new here and you were a lawyer. You have to know a way out of this mess. One that doesn’t end with me losing my head and Luci marrying Hunter anyway.”
Still freaking out at the pleading, crying imp who was now on his knees before me, pulling on my hands and blubbering, I opened my mouth to say how sorry I was but that I had no idea how to help when Lola high jacked my mouth. Instead of getting myself out of a lose- lose situation, my nasty ass hooker of an alter-ego said…out loud, “Don’t worry your lumpy little head about it, Bert. I’ve got a plan.”
(Well, shit, now what am I gonna do?)
Chapter Three
Talking to yourself is considered cause for a visit from the men with the straightjacket topside but in Hell it’s pretty much commonplace. So, the fact that I was bitching at Lola all the way to meet Hunter went completely unnoticed by my fellow Hellians.
“But you want to get all up close and personal, so do it. Since when are you such a wimp?” Lola sassed.
“Since I can go from what you now see to a pile of ash in two seconds flat.” I left out the ‘Bitch’ I wanted to put at the end forgetting that if I thought it, Lola heard it anyway.
“Bitch, is it? Well, I’d rather be a bitch than a wuss. Damn girl, grown men used to shake in their Brooks Brothers loafers when you entered the courtroom and now you’re gonna let a little thing like your Hunky Hellhound being engaged to Hell’s Princess stop you from getting what you want? Woman up, sassy britches! It’s time to grab this one by the ba...” She actually had the nerve to chuckled before purring, “Well, you can do that later. Right now, just grab him and take what you want.”
“No, I’m not going to…” My argument was cut short when massive hands shot through the burning bushes that serve as a natural barrier between Limbo and the Gates of Guinee, - The place where all of us bad little people in North America enter the Underworld. Think a creepy cemetery in New Orleans at midnight where every night is All Hallow’s Eve – pulled me through the fire, and right into Hunter’s massive chest.
His hands sent tingles all over my body as they traveled across my bare shoulders, (Oh, did I forget to mention I’d changed into a black leather bustier, short skirt and thigh-high boots for my trip to the Gates. I always change before going out at night. It’s just the proper thing to do. It had nothing at all to do with Hunter. No. Really. Well, crap, stop rolling your eyes at me. I’m trying to be serious here.), down my arms, around my waist, finally landing on my butt and pulling me closer still to his heavenly (oops, scratch that) devilish body.
“Cheers, my sweet. I thought you’d never get here.”
Without another word, his lips were on my neck and the proof of his happiness pushing into my stomach as he moved against me, making it difficult to think, let alone tell him that nothing more could ever happen between us. I was doing good, holding my ground, (Read that as holding on to his shoulders, enjoying every blasted second of being with the man of my undead dreams.) not kissing him back until he sucked my earlobe between his teeth, teased it with his tongue and breathed, “Damn woman, I have to have you,” into my ear.
The switch was flipped, not only was I gone like a cheerleader on Prom night but Lola was calling the shots. Hot sweaty sex was inevitable. Pushing me backward, Hunter’s grip on my butt tightened and just as my back touched the brimstone wall, he lifted me off the ground.
My black leather mini skirt slid up my thighs. I wrapped my legs around his waist and Hunter started to roll his hips. The touch of his erection to the crotch of my already wet, black, lace panties had me speaking in tongues and shoving my hands into his hair.
Pulling his mouth to mine, I went in for the kill. It was all teeth and tongues and so hot I was sure we were about to spontaneously combust. Hunter’s arm slid under my butt as his other hand slipped up my skirt and within seconds my sexiest pair of underwear was nothing but a rag and damned it all if I even cared.
Growling at the denim that separated me from what I wanted most, I ripped my lips from his, grabbed the button at the waist of his jeans and tore at his zipper. Sliding my hand down his happy trail, it was Hunter’s turn to growl when I fisted his erection and ran my thumb through the first drop of his excitement on the tip.
“I’m going to eat you alive,” my Hunky Hellhound rumbled, his teeth on my neck and his cock pumping through my fist as his hips worked faster and faster.
Sliding through my legs, Hunter dropped to his knees and started kissing the inside of my thigh at the same time the shrillest, most nasal voice in all the Underworld sing-songed, “Yooooohooooo. Hunter is that you?”
All motion stopped.
Lola screamed, “What the hell?”
Hunter groaned.
As I hung suspended in mid-air, against a fiery hot wall, with my ‘whoopie-pie’ hanging out and my face turning the color of a well-cooked lobster, my Hunky Hellhound cleared his throat and answered as sweetly as I’d ever heard him speak, “Yes, Auntie Matilda, it’s me.” (Auntie Matilda? Huh? Seriously? Hunter has an aunt who sounds like Fran Drescher with a head cold?)
“What are doing hi
ding in the bushes, boychick? Come on out here and give your old Auntie a hug. It’s been forever since I’ve laid eyes on you.”
Before answering, my Hunky Hellhound rolled his eyes, blew out a long-suffering breath and looked up at me with the most tortured expression that my heart almost broke for him. Then Lola bitched in my head, “What the hell are you feeling bad for the mutt for? It’s me who didn’t get her cookies nibbled. Damn girl, you sure know how to pick ‘em.”
“Shut your filthy hooker mouth,” I whispered through gritted teeth.
“Huh?” Hunter asked, his pained look turning to raised eyebrows.
Hurrying to cover my faux pas, I stammered, “Oh, nothing.” Before raising an eyebrow of my own and whispering, “And could ya’ please put me down before your Auntie gets a look at the goods?”
“Oh shit, yeah, sorry,” he quickly answered, gently lowering my feet to the ground before wrapping his hand around my neck, pulling my head to his and promising, “But I am so far from done with you, my sweet.”
I’m not sure if it was the quick touch of his lips to mine or that damned British accent but either way any anger or frustration I was experiencing from our coitus interruptus melted away as Hunter jumped to his feet, righted his clothes then helped me with mine before holding my hand as we walked through the bushes. Okay, I can guess what you’re thinking…Shouldn’t he be more discreet since I am technically ‘the other woman’?
Well, I was right there with you until Auntie Matilda opened her begonia-colored lipstick-smeared lips and said, “Oh, thank Satan, you exchanged that red-headed yente, Dolly Parton look-alike for this little bubbala.” Then to me, as she stepped forward and hugged me with the strength of a Greco-Roman Wrestler, whispered, “Look, you little shiksa, take care of my Hunter or I take care of you, got it? Now, make like I’m your bubbe and give me a hug.”