Page 3 of Prince Of Sloth

Gaap

If I had known Sitri was having a meltdown, I wouldn’t have come to him for help. The Hunter who’d cornered me in Japan, of all places, had been following me for sixteen months. The trace he had put on me was stunted for the moment, but it would wear off soon.

I needed a prince for this kind of magic. But I owed Ipos a debt I wasn’t ready to take on yet. Stolas was too preoccupied with his new plaything, and after the last run-in with Seere, it was more likely that Heaven and Hell would be reunited than him helping me.

No. It had to be Sitri.

He would just have to shake himself out of his tantrum and help me.

In his office, his Watcher lapdog stood behind his desk with a woman under his arm. She wasn’t human, but she wasn’t a demon either. She was a Reaper. Another grey being, like Watcher Angels, she wasn’t welcome among the angels in Heaven but didn’t truly belong in Hell. Her sole purpose was to usher mortals to their final destination. Whatever she was doing with Sitri and Ezequiel, it was a mess I didn’t want to get involved with.

“It’s been a long time, Gaap.” Sitri sat with his fingers steepled, his chin resting on top. He watched me closely. “Or have you become too accustomed to Ezra St. Croix?”

He had a right to distrust me after what I’d done the last time I had breezed into Los Angeles, but I wasn’t here to hash out my past mistakes with my brothers. I was running from a more pressing problem. “Scoff all you want, but I haven’t had to hear my true name in decades. You can appreciate how any name moaned just right can feel more powerful than your gifts, can’t you, Prince of Lust?”

“What do you want, Gaap?” Ezequiel chimed in harshly.

Cutting him a warning glance, I cleared my throat and spoke to Sitri. “A Hunter has been tracking me. I need your help, brother.”

“Brother?” Ezequiel interjected once again. “You abandon your duties, leave every one of us behind to clean up your mess, and now that you need him, he is your brother?”

“Do you really want to start comparing abdications of duty, Watcher?” I snapped back.

“Enough.” Sitri got to his feet, becoming a wall between Ezequiel and me. “Gaap, where is the Hunter?”

“Here. In Los Angeles.” I was unable to look either Sitri or Ezequiel in the eye.

Sitri’s head sank as he let out a curse. He pounded his fist on the desk, breaking a glass of liquor, which cut into his flesh. Dark blood gushed, and the Reaper bolted to Sitri and to tend to his wound. She took off her black T-shirt and wrapped his hand tight. He didn’t bat her away. Instead, he looked at her in surprise that she would come to his side so easily.

Their silent exchange held more complication than I had brought to Sitri’s doorstep.

He lifted his uninjured hand to her cheek and brought her temple to his lips, a rare show of intimate affection from the prince of meaningless, impassioned sex.

“I’m fine,” he said, bringing her eyes to meet his.

She tied off the blood-damp shirt and stepped back to Ezequiel, who was waiting with one of The Deacon’s sweatshirts. He held it up and assisted it over her head and down her body before wrapping his arm around her once again.

“Sitri, I didn’t know where else to go,” I explained.

“Have you completely lost grip on reality? You lured the Hunter here to Los Angeles?” Ezequiel’s anger was present, but his volume had dimmed—probably for the sake of the Reaper currently watching her prince from her Watcher’s arms.

“I knew the club would be the safest place to be for now.” I bounced between him and Sitri.

“Just kill him,” the Reaper said.

The three of us gawked at her. Sitri dropped his head with a forceful sigh at her ignorance.

“If it were that simple, I would have when he cornered me in Yokohama,” I answered.

“Killing him would be seen as an act of war. Every Hunter and lesser angel would be up our asses,” Ezequiel explained and pulled her into his side. “No, it’s best to influence or spell him away. Not raise any flags or cause any closer inspection.”

I’d never expected Ezequiel and Sitri to share a lover for longer than a night. I was more surprised that she was a Reaper. I looked her over. She was attractive, but other than that, I didn’t see the appeal. Neutral beings could not be corrupted or bent to my will. Sitri and Ezequiel were bound to be wrapped around her scythe until she was forced to take her position in the grand design.

“He has warded his skin. Not just ink, but scarred with hellfire.” I’d seen the marks myself and had felt their repellent power when I’d tried to fend him off in the catacombs of Rome months before our last encounter.

The Reaper scoffed. “That’s a little overkill.”

Ezequiel gave her a sideways glance.

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