Page 53 of Grave Mistakes
But as much as my interest is piqued, I might be better off playing with someone like banjo boy over there instead of someone I could potentially be working with. I know I can keep things light and easy after getting all carnal, but Crux still has those excited puppy vibes, and I’m just not sure if he can.
Well, damn, Delta. You agree to consider guarding one Hellgate and suddenly you want to let your demon freak flag fly.I side-eye myself for a second. MaybeI’mthe lightweight. I mean, I stand by what I’m saying, but I just can’t figure out why I’m confessing to it now.
Crux looks across at Echo with a satisfied grin as he leans back in his chair. “She’s definitely going to pick me over you.”
Echo rolls his eyes. “Yeah, we’ll see.”
My heart stumbles over itself, and I look between the two demons, noting that they just started some sort of sex contest in regards to me and feeling oddly excited about it.
“She’s barely agreed to think about the Gate. We don’t need you two fiddle dicks making things more complicated,” Jerif says with a sigh, tipping his cup back to drain the last of his drink. “Stop thinking with your cocks, will you?”
“Impossible,” Crux replies. “My cock always has the best ideas.”
I choke out a laugh while Echo nods. “Sadly, that’s probably true.”
Iceman shakes his head, but I don’t miss the amusement in his blue eyes. “Focus. Flint seems to be finishing up.”
“Who’s Flint?” I ask.
“The demon you were ogling,” Echo replies.
My eyes fly over to the marble-faced banjo player, who does in fact end his song. He gets to his feet and then jumps down, ignoring the smattering of applause he receives as he walks off, passing right through the circle of flames without even flinching.
“He’s the demon who watches the Gate?”
“One of them,” Iceman answers before standing up and tossing down a wad of bills on the table. He helps me out of my seat and tucks my hand in the crook of his arm. “Come on. Time to go meet another Gate Guardian.”
15
Iceman leads us across the bar and through another set of swinging doors like he owns the place. We spill out into a small dingy looking kitchen, which answers my question about whether or not they have food. But when an imp that looks to be made of dirt clods pulls an angry screeching squid thing from a bucket and then throws it directly into a deep fryer, I make firm plans to dine elsewhere.
I’m led past the kitchen, down some dimly lit hallway where we all stop outside a door marked Office. Iceman knocks, and a smooth voice calls out for us to come in. He opens the door and we all file in, and I’m suddenly caught up in a flurry of man hugs and hellos. I scurry to get out of the way of the boisterous reunion and plant myself against a wood paneled wall. I look around, taking in the two desks with stacks of papers on them, the computer that looks like it might be a first edition original model, and absolutely nothing else that could possibly be a Hellgate.
I catch sight of Flint—the black haired, gray-eyed, marble-skin-looking banjo player—as more back slapping and some ball busting starts to go down amongst the group. I also get a hint of another large male demon in the back with dandelion yellow hair and skin the color of faint lavender. I think I spot a flower behind his ear, but Jerif steps in my line of sight, and I immediately question why I would think that. These are big gruff demons; I doubt they’re rocking ear blooms.
I feel awkward standing on the side while they all catch up. I feel like I’m at a party where everyone knows everyone, and my wingman forgot I was here and is just ignoring me while they’re off having the best time. I would pull out my phone and pass the minutes until someone decides to include me, but I forgot to bring it. So instead, I study my scythe and try not to feel left out.
The noise in the small room starts to settle, and Iceman’s voice cuts through. “We really appreciate you meeting with our fifth. I know the adjustment wasn’t easy for you, and we all thought your story might help.”
“Happy to do what I can,” Flint says with a clap before rubbing his palms together. His words are heavily accented like he was born and raised in Georgia. “So where is he? Let’s help your fifth find his balls.”
I’m not sure if I want to glare or laugh at his incorrect assumption, but the look of shock on his face when Iceman and Jerif break apart to reveal little ol’ me leaning against the wall makes up for it. The dude’s mouth literally drops open as he takes me in. I try and fail not to feel a little smug about it.
“Is that a—” he starts to ask when his gray eyes land on my scythe.
“It is,” Jerif confirms.
“But she’s a...she?” Flint states, like I couldn’t possibly be real.
“How jealous are you right now?” Crux teases, and the lavender skin, yellow-haired demon chuckles.
My eyes land on him, and I notice that I was right before—there reallyisa big lily-type flower tucked behind his ear. But what’s even more captivating is the rainbow-colored patterns running up the middle of his arms and the sides of his neck. They look like multi-colored shadows of flowers. It’s like the flowers themselves are the lavender color of his skin, but the shading around them is a watercolor splash of various hues, creating different shapes and sizes of blossoms that flow up his arms and neck. He also has a big dahlia flower shape on the front of his throat.
It’s such a feminine juxtaposition to his massive muscled size. I’m trying not to stare, but he’s just sopretty. The watercolor bouquet on his skin is completely engrossing, and he tops it all off with pouty lips, butterscotch eyes, and yellow hair that would make a Disney Prince jealous. I’m about to ask him to show me his smolder when Echo clears his throat, which coaxes my eyes back to him. He has a sneaky smile on his face, but also a possessive look in his black eyes.
I quickly realize that everyone is staring at me, and I get the distinct impression that I was probably asked a question, but I was too busy staring at someone’s ear bloom—amongst other things—to hear it. So I wave awkwardly instead and offer a sheepish smile. “Hey.”
Smooth, Delta, really fucking smooth.
