Grave Decisions (Hellgate Guardians Book 3)

by Ivy Asher

  “Where are we supposed to go?” I ask, my voice suddenly small.

  Where on earth is safe from Hell?

  “Our place,” Flint and Alder say at the same time.

  My mouth drops open in surprise at their offer. Mama claps with glee, like she just got invited to a sleepover by the cool kids in school. Daddy just sort of glares at the demons. My vagina does a cheer of her own while the rest of me gives a resoundin’ well, crap.

  It seems back to the Hellgate we go.

  17

  It’s been two weeks since my parents and I moved in with Alder and Flint, and the days have been flyin’ by.

  Their bartender, Mickey, never did show back up, so I took them up on their offer to come work for them. I figured it would be good practice to see how the three of us work together.

  Even though I’ve never tended a bar before, I find that I kind of like it. It keeps me on my toes, and I’ve heard all kinds of intriguin’ stories from the demons that pass through, and I’ve learned not to stare at the weird lookin’ ones. Well, not get caught starin’, at least.

  Some of them are scarier than others, but I’ve learned that for the most part, they’re not any worse than humans when it comes to the moral scale. They’re just doin’ their jobs. Testin’ people to see what they’re made of, to see what choices they’ll go with, and workin’ to maintain a balance of good and bad.

  That job can be somethin’ as simple as droppin’ a suggestion to lie to someone, or it can be bigger, scarier things that test a human’s soul. Sometimes, the demons don’t even have to do any temptin’, they’re just assigned to watch over souls who lean too much toward the dark. They track them and their deeds and pass the information along.

  I’m obviously not the most impartial person at this point, but I think demons really get the short end of the religious stick. They’re made out to be villains, when really, they’re workin’ to make people stronger. To force souls to either learn from their mistakes and choose to do better or...not. Demons really should get more credit.

  But the most important job of all in my biased eyes? Guardin’ the Hellgate. Since we’ve moved in, I’ve seen firsthand how serious Flint and Alder are when it comes to their duty. They constantly ensure that their portal is secure and that the Hellgate has enough juice from them to be stable. They’re always in danger of a horde of unauthorized demons tryin’ to break through and wreak havoc on the balance, but that doesn’t faze them one bit. They’re ready and willin’ to do whatever needs to be done, and I respect the hell out of them for that.

  I’ve been learnin’ a lot about demons and how it all works. I’ve also realized I’m more resilient and open than I really ever knew, and that my parents’ unconditional love knows no bounds.

  “Ready to go?”

  I look up from where I’m wipin’ down the bar top and see Alder leanin’ against the stool. A slow, appreciative smile spreads across his full lips, and I have to work to control the blush that tries to creep into my cheeks.

  The three of us have been dancin’ around each other these past couple weeks. Maybe it’s because my parents are livin’ with us and we don’t get a lot of alone time, but I can tell we’re in a pressure cooker. Somethin’ is bubblin’ up in the pot, and I’m not sure what’s gonna burst out, but I know somethin’ is gonna overflow soon.

  I turn back to the task at hand, ready for the long day to be over. It’s just after two a.m., so the bar is closin’, the last of the demons filterin’ out.

  Flint was playin’ his banjo tonight, and I have to admit, it’s more charmin’ than ear gougin’ like I thought it might be. But what ain’t so charmin’ are the female demons that flock down to the bar to watch him play. My eyes cut over to the door, where he’s tryin’ to extricate himself from his adorin’ fans. My hand wrings the rag tighter than I need to.

  Alder follows my gaze and chuckles. “We better go rescue Flint before they try to sink their claws into him.”

  I really shouldn’t be jealous that he has four demons fawnin’ all over him. I mean, if desperate and cloyin’ is Flint’s thing, that’s his cross to bear. I just wish it didn’t bother me so much.

  Flint and Alder are still flirty. Innuendo drops so much in our conversations that I feel the need to yell bombs away to warn people, and yet, they haven’t made a single move.

  I’m not in a rush or anythin’, but they seem interested and yet...nothin’. Maybe I’m readin’ this all wrong. It’s possible that they are just flirty by nature and I keep gettin’ stuck in the crossfire, and it’s not me that they’re actually aimin’ for. But even as I think that, it doesn’t quite ring true. They watch me like I’m their favorite dessert, but I can’t seem to get them to just take a bite. I’m on edge, sexually and emotionally, and I just want them to do somethin’.

  I’m probably feelin’ grumpier about the whole situation because I promised myself I wouldn’t take matters into my own hands when it comes to the flirtin’ until I knew for sure I was lucky number three when it comes to guardin’ this gate. But it’s gettin’ real hard not to just outright ask if these guys are going to put up or shut up. Especially when I have to watch other demons flirt with them every time we’re at the bar.

  And speakin’ of other demons, we’re still waitin’ for word from the other Hellgate Guardians, who apparently suck at returnin’ phone calls. Alder says he thinks they’re tied up, but at this point, I’m startin’ to wonder if he means that literally, because how hard is it to pick up the damn phone?

  I must not wipe the jealous look from my face fast enough as I continue to glare over at the demons talkin’ to Flint, because Alder chuckles as I come out from behind the bar. He takes the rag from me that I didn’t realize I was still wringin’ and sets it on the bar before claspin’ my wrist, tuggin’ me forward. The two of us approach where Flint is cornered near the door. I roll my eyes at a high-pitched giggle that ricochets around my brain and has me feelin’ dumber just from listenin’ to it.

  “Ladies,” Alder says smoothly by way of greetin’.

  Two of them shoot him a welcoming, seductive smile, but the other two don’t take their eyes off Flint. They’re pretty enough, I guess, though three of them have horns and one has a tail. “You wanna come back to our place?” one of them purrs.

  Flint is scowlin’, like this entire thing is makin’ him uncomfortable. “He’s gonna have to pass, but y’all have a nice night,” I say, cuttin’ in.

  All four sets of demon eyes swing over to me. One pair glows like a cat’s. “Who’re you?” she asks, and I don’t like her tone at all.

  “I’m his—” My words cut off abruptly when my mind catches up with my errant mouth. What in the hell do I even think I’m doin’? Maybe Flint wants to go home with them. Maybe my nobody ass shouldn’t be buttin’ in. Because the truth of the matter is, who am I to him and Alder, anyway? “Bartender,” I finish lamely, after too long of a pause.

  The females don’t look impressed or threatened by my presence at all. The ruby-red-skinned one leans in and sniffs me. “What, are you an Ūnus or something? You think you’re better than us just because we’re Tres demons?”

  “No. I don’t give a lick what Ring of Hell you’re from. I’m just very committed to my job, and the bar closed at two. So you ladies gotta take it outside.”

  “Fine,” the green-haired demon says. She wraps a hand around Flint’s wrist and starts to stomp off, but quickly jerks to a stop when Flint doesn’t move. She looks back at him, surprised. “You coming or not?” she demands. I could slice the hunger in her voice with a knife, it’s that thick.

  “It’s like I’m starin’ at a pound cake of neediness. Girl oughta be ashamed of herself,” I mumble under my breath.

  Flint coughs out a chuckle, and the green-haired demon sends a scathin’ look my way before turnin’ back to Flint expectantly.

  I stare at him, my nerves coiled tightly as I wait for his answer. His storm-gray eyes settle on me, and the edge of his scowl
smooths away. “I’m gonna have to decline, darlin’, but thanks for the offer,” he says, layin’ on his learned accent real thick.

  The four females are clearly not happy with that response. They shoot me baleful glares, and I have to stop myself from stickin’ my tongue out at them and wavin’ bye as they take their trollopy asses elsewhere. The red one turns back and, honest to God, hisses at me right before she leaves, slammin’ the door after her.

  Flint’s face breaks out into a grin. “Marking your territory, Peaches?” he asks me.

  “What? No,” I scoff, like that’s ridiculous, even though I might be a little tempted to drop trow and piss a circle ’round him. “I’m just tired, and I wanna go eat and sleep. They were holdin’ me up.”

  “Sure,” he says, the tone of his voice sayin’ that he doesn’t believe me at all.

  The three of us go through the bar, turnin’ lights off and lockin’ up, and by the time we shuffle out the door, my stomach lets out a growl. Both of them look over their shoulders at the sound while Alder wards the bar.

  “You got a bear in there?” Flint teases.

  “It’s not polite to tease a lady about her appetite,” I say with a pointed look.

  Flint snickers and tips his head. “Pardon me, Peaches.”

  “Yeah, don’t tease Medley about how much she constantly eats,” Alder puts in with a grin as he steps off the bar’s porch. I try to stomp on his foot as soon as he’s within range, but the bastard dodges me before I can make contact. Too bad. I’m wearin’ brand new cowboy boots tonight.

  I turn and start to lead the way toward their house. The path has become so familiar to me over the past two weeks that I could make this trek with my eyes closed. Constantly walkin’ up and down the hill has done wonders for my thighs and ass though, a fact that I’m showcasin’ with the black leather skirt I’m wearin’ tonight. I’ve seen Flint’s and Alder’s eyes draw to my legs more than once this shift.

  “I’m not gonna apologize for enjoyin’ a hearty meal,” I toss over my shoulder as I reach up and yank out my hair tie. My long locks come tumblin’ down, and I shake them out strategically like I’m Rapunzel lettin’ down my hair, just hopin’ some demons will crawl up it. I add a little extra sashay to my ass as we walk up the hill, knowin’ their eyes are zeroed in on me.

  I know. Temptin’ demons is probably a terrible, horrible, no good idea. But I’ve been with Flint and Alder constantly for days and days, and it’s as though my lust has been fermentin’ in a tub like moonshine and I’m ready for it to be bottled up and drunk down so we can get on with the bad decisions that feel so good.

  The three of us are playin’ with fire, flirtin’ and snatchin’ our hands back before we can get burned. But I’m inchin’ closer and closer to the flame these days. I chalk it up to bein’ a demon.

  The guys are quiet as we walk to their house, and I enjoy the rare cool breeze that’s blowin’ in the Georgia night air. I thought it was gonna be strange to live with the two of them for the time bein’, but just like everythin’ else that has to do with them, it was as easy as breathin’.

  Oddly, it was a rather natural and smooth transition. Daddy was sour about it at first, and he still goes to check on Todd every day with Flint, but for the most part, Mama and Daddy have settled in nicely. Thankfully, it wasn’t tight quarters or too much of an adjustment, since the guys have plenty of room in their five-bedroom house, and they keep very busy, so really, they’re only home when they sleep.

  We reach the hedges that add to the privacy around their ranch-style house, and my stomach grumbles loudly again.

  Alder and Flint both chuckle behind me. Yep, behind me. They stayed back there the entire walk. I can’t help but feel a bit smug about that. This skirt and boots combo must be workin’ even better than I thought.

  As soon as we walk through the front door, I frown at all the lights that are still on. Normally at this time of night, everythin’ is dark and quiet.

  But tonight, this house is neither of those things.

  Loud clangs are comin’ down the hall, and my mama’s voice can be heard clear as day.

  “What the hell…?” I ask, but the guys look just as surprised as me.

  The three of us walk down the hallway, but the guys run into my back when I stop, hands on either side of the doorframe, as I look inside the kitchen.

  “Mama, what in the world are you doin’?” I ask incredulously.

  The once clear and clean modern kitchen is now overrun. Mama is standin’ between the island and the chef-sized stove, her eyes watchin’ over the four imps that are clearly operatin’ under her direction.

  “Oh, HB, you’re home,” Mama says with a smile. Her bright red hair is even frizzier than usual, which is probably from the steam comin’ from the stovetop where all six burners are currently goin’.

  I step inside the kitchen, my eyes bouncin’ from place to place. Every inch of countertop space is covered in ingredients and kitchen utensils.

  “You keep on stirrin’ those grits,” Mama orders one of the imps, who looks like he has toothpicks for hair, while she checks one of the other pots and nods approvingly before closin’ the lid. “And those chicken legs ain’t gonna dredge themselves. Don’t be shy with the buttermilk and flour. We want that fried chicken nice and crispy,” she tells the imp with four noses.

  I watch as the imp starts slatherin’ the chicken in the mixture before poppin’ them in a fryer. I didn’t even know Flint and Alder had a fryer. Then again, they probably didn’t. Mama clearly has influenced this kitchen more than I realized.

  “You need to cut more potatoes than that. Can’t be potato salad if it ain’t got any potatoes in it,” she tells the shorter imp who’s currently standin’ on a stool at the island, while another one is busy hunched over what looks to be a pie mixture.

  “Mama.”

  She finally deigns to look up longer than two seconds. “What?” she asks, wipin’ her hands on her bright yellow apron.

  “It’s two in the mornin’. What are you doin’ up?”

  “Well, these poor things tried to serve us cold cuts for dinner, Medley,” she says, as if that’s reason enough why she’s completely taken over the kitchen and is barkin’ orders at the imps like a drill sergeant. It smells divine in here, but that’s beside the point.

  I rub a hand down my face. “Mama, you can’t just take over their kitchen or boss around the imps. They serve Flint and Alder.”

  “They don’t know how to cook a proper Southern meal,” she argues.

  “What’s this?” Alder says, walkin’ over to the end of the island and pointin’ to a covered pot.

  “Chicken and dumplin’s,” Mama answers proudly. “By the time I’m done, these four will know how to whip up a proper meal, mark my words. You two are growin’ boys. Need to feed all those muscles you’re sportin’,” she says, and Alder grins at her while Flint shoots her a wink that makes her blush.

  “Swat my hind on a melon rind,” I mumble with a shake of my head. “Mama, I think it’s time to call it a night,” I tell her.

  “Oh wow, this is delicious,” Alder suddenly says as he takes a bite, and then Flint is pushin’ his way forward to snag food for himself.

  “Hot damn,” he says, his mouth stuffed full. “This is the best cornbread I’ve ever tasted.”

  Mama practically preens like a peacock. “Well, thank you. It’s an old family recipe.”

  Flint shoves another piece of cornbread in his mouth. “You can take over our kitchen anytime, ma’am. Food like this hasn’t ever been served at the table.”

  If there was any doubt before that she liked these demons, Mama’s done for now. A wink and a compliment to her cookin’? I’d be surprised if she doesn’t try to drag me to a bridal shop before the week is through.

  Mama fans her face, but I know it has nothin’ to do with the hot temperature in the room and everythin’ to do with all the satisfied groans comin’ from the two demons.

  “Alri
ght, that’s enough of that now,” Mama says in a false lecture before she walks over to snatch the cornbread tin from Flint. I swear, his bottom lip pops out in a pout.

  “Y’all must be starvin’ after your long night of work. Go sit in the dinin’ room, and I’ll bring you some food. Can’t have you standin’ up eatin’ like a cow in a barn.”

  Flint immediately perks up. “Yes, ma’am,” he says, already turnin’ on his heel and walkin’ off.

  I roll my eyes before walkin’ over to Mama. I press a kiss to her flushed cheek. “Don’t stay up too much later,” I tell her. “You need your rest, and I’m sure you’ve been runnin’ these imps ragged.”

  She waves a hand at me. “We’re nearly done,” she says dismissively.

  “Mm-hmm,” I say, unconvinced, as I turn to follow Alder out.

  The dinin’ room is a separate room right down the hall, and instead of bein’ ostentatious and overly large, it’s cozy, with a round glass table and a bay window that looks out to a fountain outside. Right now, it’s lit up with soft lantern lights that only turn on when the sun goes down.

  I choose a spot between Alder and Flint, takin’ my boots off under the table. New boots are always good, but they’re a bitch to break in.

  “Here, let me.”

  I go stock-still when Alder reaches over and picks up my legs. He gently places both on his lap, successfully turnin’ me to the left so that I’m facin’ him. I bite my lip as his strong hands begin to knead my sore feet, only barely able to suppress a moan. Never mind. I couldn’t suppress it. Out it goes, like I’m fluent in ogre.

  “Damn, that feels nice,” I say, my head restin’ against the tall back of the chair.

  “You’ve been on your feet all night, every night since you started working at the bar,” Alder says, his thumbs pressin’ into my arches just right.