Page 8 of Bad Demon

“Tonight,” War said, still frowning.

Jagger, Warrick’s lieutenant, leaned against the wall. “I’ll make sure everyone’s here and spread the word that the clubhouse is off-limits to everyone else.”

I grabbed my phone when it vibrated in my pocket. A text from Zinnia. The witch was a good friend and family since she was cousin to Warrick’s mate, Willow.

Zinny:Hey, so I need to swing by the demon part of town and wondered if you wanted to tag along.

No fucking way would I let her go to Seventh Circle on her own. It wasn’t safe for any female, especially a witch.

Relic:When?

Zinny:Now, if you’re free?

Relic:I’ll text when I’m there.

Zinny:Awesome, thanks.

I shoved my phone back into my pocket, striding out of the clubhouse and to the line of bikes parked just outside.

We’d been living in Linville, just out of Roxburgh, New York, for long enough that the locals had gotten used to us. The people here thought we were a human motorcycle club, and that suited us just fine. They mainly gave us a wide berth, and we were free to live the way we wanted.

Swinging my leg over my bike, I kicked up the stand and started the engine. It roared to life, vibrating through my chest and echoing around the parking lot. Riding was nowhere near as good as going hound and running free, but it was a pretty close fucking second. I quickly tied my hair out of the way, walked my bike back, and opened her up, speeding out onto the street.

It took thirty minutes to reach the city. I parked and fired off a text to Zinnia, telling her where I was. Humans naturally avoided Seventh Circle. It was swarming with demons, and their flight instincts tended to keep them away without any extra help.

Ten minutes later, Zinny was striding down the street. The witch was beautiful, tough, loyal, and currently dealing with some seriously fucked-up shit. So, if she needed me, I was there.

Hounds had limited emotions, yes—some of us more than others—but when it came to females, we all had the same endless protective streak, probably because all hellhounds were male.

“Just couldn’t stay away from me?” I said to her when she stopped in front of me.

Her familiar—a tiny rat named Hemlock—poked his head out of her bag, and I gave him a scratch.

Zinny snorted. “You wish.”

“You have no idea. But since sex is off the table, I’m happy to display my superior fighting abilities and protect a damsel in distress.”

“I’m not a damsel.”

No, she wasn’t. She’d proven herself a warrior time and again.

Instead of agreeing though, I planted a hand on top of her head and mussed her hair. “Whatever you say, princess.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’ve been going to Willow’s movie nights, huh?”

I laughed. She was perceptive. “Of course. Can’t you see how evolved I’ve become? My emotional education is coming along nicely. I’m almost like areal boy.”

Humor came more naturally to me than my brothers, but they’d been learning since we’d left Hell. Lucifer gave us the ability to understand emotions, but having them ourselves wasn’t necessary. Tender emotions were considered a hindrance. And because most hounds were created full-grown, we didn’t have the same familial connections as some beings.

“So, what are we doing here?”

“I need some ingredients for a job I’m doing today.” She quickly looked away, avoiding making eye contact.

Yeah, she was full of shit and up to something. I could literally smell the lies.

Still, it fucking pleased me that she recognized my strength and that I was her first choice when she required protection, even if she wasn’t ready to share what this was really about. Lucifer had given us a deeper knowledge of loyalty—along with anger and lust—and I was glad she not only saw that loyalty, but also accepted it from me.

I scanned our surroundings while we walked and talked. The demons on the street looked our way as we passed, but as soon as they got an eyeful of me, they quickly turned away.

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