Page 29 of Raising Hell

“Only if you promise to really be good.” The tiny smile that finds me can’t be helped.

Amon leans down and grasps my chin with his iron grip, tilting my face up so suddenly I gasp. “So good,” he murmurs, nuzzling his nose against mine in a move that has my entire head swimming. “But only for you… only ever for you.”

“I won’t tell,” I whisper on an exhale, so quiet I mouth the words more than speak them, but they hit their target. He pulls back with that same conflict hiding under his intense stare.

“What, uh… what’s going on here, guys?” Cas asks, and Amon’s eyes dart to him, finally releasing their hold on me. Realization hits me that I’m still pinned against him, enjoying the drag of his thumb across my jawline. I push away while anounce of sanity remains in my hazy brain, dusting my hands and straightening my clothes.

Clothes…

I glance up at the two demons, shirtless and in their obscene gray pants—yes, Amon crafted himself a matching pair—and realize what a feat this will be. “Get dressed and we’ll run some errands.” It’s not exactly the most exciting thing in the world, but Cas lights up like I’ve announced we’re headed to Disneyland. Even Amon has an upward tilt to his lips that isn’t full of snark.

“We are dressed,” Amon says, gesturing at his body. At his painted-on pants that leave absolutely nothing to the imagination.

The sigh that escapes me is long and drawn out. “What did we just say about behaving?”

He matches my sigh with his own before the acceptance settles on his face. “Right.” With a momentary close of his eyes, different clothes form over his skin—dark, snug-fitting jeans and a black button-up that strains over his chest. He pushes the sleeves up to his elbows, corded tendons flexing in his forearms with thick veins that web over the top.

Somehow, it’s even more obscene than the sweatpants.

Just, y’know, without the dickprint.

I’m distracted as Cas dresses himself in ripped jeans and a simple red hoodie that’s suspiciously the same shade as my devil undies. Amon’s voice hits me right in my ear and makes me jump. “How’s that for a good boy?”

Oh, sugar.

Chapter 13

Casimir

Okay, so I’ll be the first to admit that our afternoon started off a little… rocky. Yep, that’s a good word for it. Butin my defense, no one explained we would travel in a tiny metal cage that runs with absolutely no magic.

Humans, amiright?

When I asked if we could teleport instead, I got a lecture. Blah, blah, the only magic we’re allowed to use is to hide our horns, blah.

Boring, if you ask me.

Both Amon and I agree to behave, and once I overcome the initial shock of the car moving, I enjoy the ride. Although, I’ll never admit it was me who squealed at the first motion of the wheels.

Breathtaking landscapes roll by, and I’m plastered to the window in awe. “What are those?” I ask for what must be the fifteenth time, and Rory’s chuckle is still as entertained.

He follows my finger to the black and white cluster of animals, their wide bellies and skinny legs seeming to defy gravity. “Cows,” he says, and I repeat the word a few times, letting it roll around in my mouth.

“They do not appear suitable for mounting and riding into battle. Too slow.”

His eyebrow quirks. “Are there many battles in Hell to ride into?”

Amon snorts at the question. “There’s an ongoing battle to be first in line at the market.”

“Don’t… don’t you just… wait your turn?” His confusion is obvious, and Amon and I furrow our brows as we stare at him.

“Of course not,” Amon says, rightly horrified. “Wait?”

“What’s the point of being a superior demon if you can’t even be at the front of the line to pay for your sandwich?”

Rory seems genuinely perplexed, and it only confuses us further. “But…” he starts, then stops and closes his mouth, thinking for a moment before speaking. “How do you determine the order if it’s not based on when you arrived?”

“Duel.” His jaw hangs open at our synchronized response.

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