Page 70 of Hell's Queen

“Hey,” Inarian says, drawing my attention. His jacket is off now, and he’s been escorting others out, being nice to them. I think he likes telling people to leave.

“I have something for you.”

He frowns, moving to me.

I reach between the armrest of the throne and pull out an envelope. I stand and meet him halfway.

“What is this?” he asks, flipping the blank envelope.

“Your inheritance.”

His dark eyes snap to me. “What?”

“Inarian, I don’t want you to be my hellhound, and I don’t want to go through the bond ceremony anymore.”

“Are you… firing me?”

“Yes.”

“Why? What did I do?”

With a smile, I shake my head. “Nothing. You are free from the clutches of being a hellhound. But in your honor, I have talked to the Grim Reaper, and we will meet to discuss the disbandment of the idea that hellhounds must be just protectors. No one needs to go somewhere they don’t want to, just to survive.”

He stares at me, lips parted. “So… I don’t have to go back?”

“None of us do. We are too young to be fighting this war.” My fingers run over his chest where the scar is. “To have all these scars. I love you enough to know this isn’t right. You are free.”

He shakes his head. “You don’t want me anymore? Are we breaking up? I want to stay with you, and I don’t want to lose you.”

I cup his cheek. “If that is what you want… but you no longer work for me.”

Hazen stops at the door, looking in.

“None of you do. Jigsaw, Hazen, and you are fired.”

“What?” Hazen snaps. “What did I do?”

“You aren’t my protectors anymore, and this isn’t a job for you to be around me. You can stay around me as my boyfriends if you want me.”

Hazen’s reaction causes my men to flood the room to listen.

“I didn’t ask you guys to live here because I wanted to have my hellhounds on deck. I asked… because I genuinely love all of you and want you close to me.”

“So, we are fired… But we can stay here as your boyfriends?” Hazen asks.

I nod, sitting back.

Inarian is still so stunned. “You never asked me to live here. What am I supposed to do when I’m not a protector? I don’t know who I am outside of that.”

“First,” I start, “you should probably have therapy for yourself and your trauma. Second, you figure it out. Maybe you’ll like dancing like me.”

He snorts. “I’m surprised there’s no pole here.”

I wink at him. I have my own room off my office for my dancing. “It’s time to live for yourselves.”

“Who will protect you?” Hazen asks.

“Myself. And the multiple boyfriends in our house that will, but never again, have to fight a war. Just the occasional flirt or something.”

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