Page 70 of Insatiable

“We’re really close to the elevator, which is good, but we’re also close to the demon’s lounge, which, obviously, is really bad. We need to get up to the tower without attracting any attention.”

Tate shakes her head. “I say we go right to the Demon’s lounge.”

“What?” I stop dead, staring at Tate like she’s lost her mind. “You want to walk right into a demon’s lounge? Are you crazy?”

Tate crosses her arms, that infuriating sly smile creeping back onto her face. “Yes. It’s the fastest way, and if we keep sneaking around, we’ll be spotted, eventually. We might as well go in boldly.”

Dade shakes his head. “No. These demons will tear us apart if they catch us.”

“They are going to catch us wherever we go. You think we’ll be able to fit in with whatever the fuck’s going on in thetower. You saw what the inhabitants of Gluttony looked like. We couldn’t pass as human skeletons there and we won’t be able to pass as whatever the hell they have going on in Avarice either.”

Ro sighs dramatically, rubbing her temples like she’s already exhausted by the idea of it. “At least there they might wait five seconds to listen to our side of the story before they rip the heads off our shoulders and eat them.”

“That’s two for holding out until we are upstairs. Juliette. You get the final vote.”

“Tie goes to me,” Tate says before I have time to answer.

“Fine!” Dade grits out.

Three pairs of eyes turn to me. I know Dade is right. Getting our asses upstairs sounds a lot more fun than heading into a pit of infernal murdering assholes, and let’s be honest, there’s probably bacon upstairs too, but when I open my mouth, I can barely believe the words that fall out. “I say we do what Tate says.”

Tate licks her lips and slides her eyes over to Dade in a smug expression, before turning them to me and giving me a discrete wink that sends my tummy into a loop that has nothing to do with bacon.

Dade’s features darken, but he turns and leads us down the corridor, more than likely to our agonizing deaths.

“You literally just called her crazy for wanting to go to the lounge,” Ro whispers in my ear so that Tate and Dade can’t hear.

“Sorry,” I mumble back.

“Just remember, I’m pregnant and probably a very tasty snack right now.”

“You’re not the only tasty snack.” My eyes flicker to Tate’s retreating figure, and I immediately clamp a hand over my mouth, mortified.

Ro just shakes her head, chuckling. "Not interested, huh?"

I groan, utterly embarrassed. I need to get a grip.

“Last chance,” Dade mutters as we approach the elevator to the tower.

No one says a word as we stride silently past our final means of escape. The tension hangs thick in the air.

“That’s the door to the lounge,” Dade says, stopping about twenty feet from it. He glances back at us. “Sure you don’t want to change your minds?”

Tate stands firm. My stomach twists, but I’m not backing down now. I made my choice, and I’m going to stick to it, no matter how much my instincts are screaming to turn back.

Dade unfurls his wings, spreading them wide to shield us from the door. The dark feathers cast shadows over all of us, and I can’t help but feel grateful for the protection. But Tate, calm and unflinching, steps forward and gently presses down on one of his wings. “Dade, I know you like to think of yourself as some kind of dark protector,” she says softly, “but we’re a team. We either go in together, or we don’t go in at all.”

Dade looks like he’s about to argue—to insist that maybe we shouldn’t go in at all—when the door to the demon’s lounge swings open.

My heart plummets, and I brace myself for the inevitable, imagining that any second now, I’m going to be a demon’s next meal. But then, to my shock, a figure steps out into the dim corridor.

A shocked voice echoes down the corridor. “Dade?”

I blink in disbelief at the sight of Twila.

“Twila!” Ro gasps, darting forward and nearly knocking her over as she throws her arms around her.

Twila stands there, looking utterly bewildered as she takes in the sight of us. I can’t blame her—we must look like we’ve been through hell… which we literally have. Dade and Tate are both smeared with dried blood, and the rest of us are so worn downfrom walking for hours that I’m not sure I even have feeling in my feet anymore.

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