Page 60 of Immortal Throne

“What the fuck, Chupey,” I snapped. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

Chupey shrugged. “I am on your side. Blood helps release magic.”

“I don’t think blood will help her. It’s a mental game she’s playing right now, and she’s currently losing,” Zane said.

“Did you just call me dumb?”

He raised the tortilla shell and slapped me across the face again. “What are you going to do about it, Sloane? Does it make you angry? Huh? Does it? Does it?”

Smack.

I growled and clenched my fists together. Cursing at Zane might make me feel better, but it wouldn’t help me end torture by tortilla nor figure out a way to access my magic. Squeezing my eyes shut, I focused on the hum of power and reached for it.

Smack.

Zane’s voice rose with his frustration. “Come on! You’re a Dazamon! Unleash all that power onto me!”

“I’m a Daza-what-now?”

Chupey and Zane exchanged a look.

“A Dazamon. It’s arguably one of the most powerful demon types in the Underworld,” Chupey explained matter-of-factly. “That was what your father was, and that’s what you are.”

“But—” Zane interjected, “her human side must be hindering her demon. Making it too hard for her to tap into.”

“That just means we have to work harder,” Chupey answered.

Ah, shit. I didn’t like the sound of that.

Nodding, Zane lifted the tortilla again. I never thought I’d get PTSD from food, but I was really starting to think Mexican food would be a big no-go for me after this.

I paused.

Who was I kidding?

Tacos would never make the no go list.

“Do I even want to know what you three stooges are up to?” Ryker’s unexpected voice jolted me out of my head.

I cursed as the magic once again slipped from my grasp. I whirled around to find Ryker standing a few steps inside the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest. He wore a fitted shirt along with leather pants that showed off his muscular thighs. Somehow he made it work and the sight of him made my mouth water.

Which was ridiculous, because obviously I hated him.

Slightly behind him, Slade leaned on the door frame, with his hands shoved in his jeans’ pockets and one leg crossed lazily over the other. Amusement dancing in his gaze. He’d paired his fitted jeans with a collared shirt and looked more like he should be walking the streets of Braton instead of sauntering into Hell’s kitchen.

My hindsight didn’t react to either of them. Interesting.

“Well?” Ryker raised a dark brow.

“Zane’s helping me,” I said. Really, none of this was his business. He didn’t need to know a thing.

“By slapping you with carbs?” Confusion wrinkled his brow. “I know humans think carbs are the enemy, but this is kind of ridiculous, don’t you think?”

Slade snorted.

“All it seems to be doing is irritating the fuck out of me,” I admitted. “But I guess he can stop now, because you’re here and you’re way better at it.”

Ryker straightened and unfolded his arms. With a few steps, he closed the distance between us. Instead of anger flashing in his gaze, he appeared amused. His lips turned up in the corners as he leaned down, impossibly close. “I’m better at a lot of things, princess.”

---