Chapter 3

Chapter Three

FERN

Zipping up my sweatshirt, I lifted the hood, checked the coast was clear, slipped out, and locked up behind me. After my run-in with that hound, I didn’t want to hang around the store. I hated that he’d scared me so badly, but I hated more that I’d let him.

It didn’t help that my fear response was to go on the offensive, no matter how afraid I was. It’d served me well in the past. In my experience, showing fear or weakness to a predator only excited them. When you showed fear, when you cried or cowered, they got off on it, and the pain that followed was even worse.

I yanked on the door to check it was locked— one, two, three, four hard yanks . That hound had thrown me off completely because the more shit I’d given him, the more he’d seemed to enjoy it.

I shook my head. I needed to learn when to shut my damn mouth, but it was no use because fear was a trigger. When given the choice of fight or flight, most chose the former. But for most of my life, flight hadn’t been an option, so as soon as my fear spiked, it was muscle memory, and I automatically switched into fight mode.

Cursing under my breath at my stupidity, I glanced over my shoulder to make sure I wasn’t being followed by the pricks who’d been hanging around or a giant meathead of a hellhound. Dipping my head, I started along the street.

Fuck. Did I lock the door?

Yes, you locked the fucking door.

But what if I hadn’t?

Cursing, I jogged back, gripped the door handle, and yanked it again— one, two, three, four. Definitely locked.

I headed back down the street. Agatheena had said she’d have information for me when I went back to her cottage, but it wouldn’t hurt to do some research of my own. The more I knew about what I was, the better.

There was only one place I could go that might have the information I needed. It took me twenty minutes to reach my destination, but finally, the massive building loomed up ahead. Back in the 1800s, it’d been known as the Sunnydale Insane Asylum but had been decommissioned in the early 1980s. Nothing about the monstrosity looked like it belonged here. It was as if it’d been transported here from another country and plonked in the middle of the city two hundred years ago.

It was massive, with dark, slick stone walls and arched windows, like a medieval cathedral. Its name implied warmth and light, but this place was the complete opposite.

I walked through the gateway, which opened out to a large garden area out front. Pulling my hood lower, I glanced over my shoulder again and jogged across the lawn. I rushed up the steps and banged on the heavy, wooden double doors.

The chilly wind blew around me, and I rubbed my arms as ice slid down my spine and goose bumps prickled the back of my neck. The feeling that I was being watched sent frozen tendrils through my veins, and I scanned the area around me again.

The door opened, and I turned back as the demon standing there gave me a once-over, then grinned.

“Hey, gorgeous. What’s up?”

“Hey, Berkley. How’s your sister?”

“Yeah, good, honey. Behaving herself, for now.”

I laughed. Berkley came in to my store with her from time to time.

“So, I was hoping I could use the library this afternoon.”

“Let me check with Rune. Should be okay though.”

Rune, the demon in charge of all of us here in Seventh Circle, had been selected by Lucifer to run things. He was scary as hell, but if you toed the line and followed the rules, he let you be. If he ever found out what I had done with that demon a few nights ago, he wouldn’t be happy with me, not at all.

Berkley put his phone to his ear and opened the door wider for me. My boots thudded against the old, stained, and cracked linoleum as I strode in, goose bumps lifting all over my body.

Breathe. You can leave at any time.

I curled my fingers into tight fists. I’d been here several times, but I’d never get used to that goddamn smell. The scent of hospital still lingered, along with a few other unpleasant things that caused a visceral reaction and made every cell in my body fucking contract in terror. Forcing myself to breathe slow and easy, I stood in the cold and stark hall and waited while Berkley muttered down the line.

Finally, he hung up and gave me a chin lift. “You can head on up.”

“Awesome, thanks.”

I headed along the hall, passing door after door. I didn’t know what they used the rooms down here for, but the upper floors had been converted into accommodations for Rune’s brethren. They followed orders and were a pretty tight-knit group. Rune had the very top floor to himself. The other floors were used for various things—things I wasn’t privy to but had heard rumors.

I rounded the corner and onto the ancient-looking elevator.

Gripping the strap of my bag—and still thankfully managing to keep it together—I hit the button for the fifth floor. The elevator moved slowly, and when the doors finally slid open, I rushed out and down the hall to the library. It wasn’t a huge room—not as big as, say, the witches council’s library. I’d never been, of course, but I’d heard about it. A lot of our demon texts had been taken from us, mainly by witches, and were locked up out of our reach. I wasn’t sure what this room had been used for in the past—maybe an office of some kind. At least it smelled better and the old radiators still worked and kept most of the rooms warm. It had started to rain outside, and surprisingly, it felt kind of cozy in here.

Turning slowly, I tried to decide where to start. We didn’t have a system as such, but over the years, someone had taken the time to put the modest collection in some kind of order. Dumping my bag on the table, I ran my finger along the spines.

A slow drip came from the eave outside, and I shivered. I closed my eyes and tried to breathe as an unwanted memory rushed forward.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

The sound came from a small basin in the corner of my room. I stared at it, focusing on that noise, counting in time with it—up to four, then back again, over and over—while I shivered and my skin burned like it had been set alight. It helped; somehow, the counting helped.

The door opened, and my raw nerve endings had me jolting.

“How are we doing this morning, Essie?”

I couldn’t answer; my jaw was clenched too tightly to speak.

The Chemist moved around the bed, staring down at me as he slid on black latex gloves. “The virus has taken hold, I see.” He tilted his head to the side. “This one definitely shows promise. I’d like to know how contagious it is. I have high hopes for it. You are eighteen now, Estelle, old enough for what must be done. I’ve found a suitable demon for you to copulate with so we can test how easily this virus passes via bodily fluids.”

I stared up at him in horror.

“Don’t look so alarmed. Demons are, after all, filthy, rutting, and base, which is why this form of transmission is best. It’s your nature to enjoy such endeavors. I’m sure you’ll take pleasure from it.” He leaned over me. “I’m sure a whorish creature like you will relish the chance to have a male between your thighs.”

My entire body convulsed, rejecting his words. It wasn’t the first time he’d called me a filthy whore, of course, and he’d told me this was coming, but I had hoped it was just a threat.

“But before we get to that, Ghoul needs feeding,” he said, his eyes sparkling with glee. “He’s very hungry, and having you a little weaker during the next phase of my experiment is probably for the best.”

No . The word screamed through my mind as Grady walked in, a smirk on his face.

The Chemist untied me, and his pet demon—the fucker who had murdered my mother—scooped me up and carried me from the room. I wanted to fight, to kick, and bite, but I was far too weak. He shoved open the basement door, and we descended into darkness. The Chemist flicked on the light, and the red bulb did little to illuminate the room. A snarl came from the corner, and the familiar rattle of chains made everything inside me recoil.

Grady dumped me on the ground as The Chemist took the cattle prod from its place on the wall. Sparks and a cracking sound came from the thing as he tested it. It was the only way to make Ghoul stop. The Chemist nodded, and Grady used his foot to nudge me closer.

Ghoul’s chains rattled again before his hand shot out of the darkness. A bony hand grabbed my ankle and dragged me into the shadows. Red eyes flashed, and then sharp, cold fangs sank into my flesh, agony slicing through me as he greedily gulped down my blood.

My jaw unclenched and I opened my mouth and screamed.

“Looking for anything in particular?” A deep voice resonated through the room, startling me from the memory.

I spun around, and Rune stood in the doorway.

He slid his hands into his pockets and tilted his head to the side. “I haven’t seen you in a while, Fern.” His eyes—a yellow-green, so similar to mine—studied me closely.

I dipped my head. “No, I guess not.” My voice came out all trembly—and not just from the memory.

The top few buttons of his dark shirt were undone, revealing his ink and the brands scarring his skin, and power oozed from every single pore, so heavy and thick that just being in his presence had goose bumps breaking out all over me. I needed to pull it together.

If anyone could sniff out bullshit, it was Rune.

“So, what brings you here, little one?” he asked, those eyes penetrating my freaking skull, as if he could see my mind spinning, searching for what to say, how much to reveal.

He wasn’t here as only an enforcer; he was here to protect us as well, but showing weakness around him was definitely not a good idea. Lying outright wouldn’t work either. Whatever I said now, I had to mix in truth if I wanted to get out of here without any trouble.

“I found out more about my family history. I was hoping something here might give me some insight.”

Rune scented the air, then grinned, flashing a set of fangs very much like mine—demon, not vampire. “You’re afraid. Why is that?”

My spine straightened without my say-so. “No, I’m not,” I said with way more attitude than I should have.

His brow arched. “No?” He stepped closer and scented the air again.

He was the second arrogant goddamn male to do that to me today. My fear spiked, and heat flushed through me as reflexive, uncontrollable, irrational, stupid fucking anger hit me. I choked it down.

“I mean, yes, okay, fine. You scare me. But I assume you scare everyone,” I forced myself to admit. Again, it was the truth; I’d just omitted a few of the reasons for my fear.

“There are a lot of females who enjoy my company very much,” he said, that grin still in place. “You don’t feel that way though?”

“I don’t doubt it’s true,” I said. “But I’m more in the shit-scared than turned-on camp.”

He chuckled, low and, yes, sexy. “Fair enough. Is there anything you’d like to ask me? I know the books in this library well.”

“Blood drinkers—do we have a compendium of all the demon breeds?” I asked. Because what the hell? He was one himself. It wasn’t like it was against the rules if you did it responsibly, left humans alone, and used one of the drinking clubs.

“Finally figured out those cute little fangs aren’t just for show, have you?” he asked, his gaze moving over me.

My face heated again. “Um … yes.”

He studied me, his tongue sliding over one of his own fangs. “Have you fed yet, little one?”

I shook my head, unable to lie to him now, even if I wanted to for some reason, and I was terrified he’d ask me something that would get me into a whole lot of trouble. “No.”

“I sense your hunger. Don’t leave it too long. I wouldn’t want you to lose control and do something you shouldn’t.”

He reached out like he was about to touch my face, and I flinched. I couldn’t help it. He dropped his hand.

“It would be a shame if you let that happen. Take care of it—and soon.” He stopped by one of the shelves on the left, slid a book out an inch, and then walked out, shutting the door behind him.

* * *

RELIC

Lucifer sauntered in, carrying his cat, Mini. He was flanked by two of his handmaids, Ursula and Roxy. Both warriors sauntered in—one carrying an axe, the other a long blade. The king of Hell was well over six feet and covered in tattoos, and if he were human, he would pass for a male in his mid-twenties. He had a twisted sense of humor and liked to fuck with people. He could make a being feel at ease, like you were his best bud, and also fill you with the kind of terror that turned your blood cold. And he, of course, excelled in the art of torture.

Thankfully, we didn’t often piss him off.

Jagger clasped hands with the king of Hell, and they exchanged greetings. Warrick would usually be here to greet Lucifer himself, but his mate and her family had received some bad news tonight, and Wills and their baby, Violet, came first—always.

Lucifer handed Mini to Roxy, ran his fingers through his slicked-back hair, and then aimed his yellow eyes at his audience—a roomful of curious hellhounds.

“Brothers,” he said, his eyes glinting. He was pissed off—no, he was fucking furious. “I come bearing seriously fucked-up news. You know how I feel about betrayal.” He bared his teeth. “It makes me stabby. And before you freak out, it’s not Diemos. My son is where I put him, and he’s not going anywhere.” He cracked his neck. “One of my lords, Faron, has up and fucked off. He didn’t ask for permission, and he’s not answering my summons.”

Menace transformed his features and saturated the room. Unlike us, the lords couldn’t be summoned by force, a show of loyalty Lucifer had offered a very long time ago—something I could see he regretted giving now.

“Faron might look fucking stupid and more interested in spending his days being a gluttonous sex pest, but there is more to him. Not much, but enough to make him dangerous. I want him found and his ass dragged back to Hell. This is top priority. His disappearance—his blatant defiance—can mean only one thing. He wants to take what’s mine, and he’s got a bead on the means to do it. Faron is in this realm, but he’s concealed himself. Brothers, I want him found ASAP.”

“We’ll find them,” Jag said.

“I know you will,” Lucifer said, then looked at another of our brothers, Lothar. “But right now, I need a fucking drink.” He held out his hand. “Hit me.”

Loth tossed him a beer as the music was turned up, and Brick, one of our young hounds, rushed to throw open the clubhouse doors, which didn’t surprise me. His sire, Dirk, and his mate had several pups, but Brick was our oldest. He was nineteen, and all about fucking and fighting, and there were always females hanging around outside. A group of them sauntered in. There was only one reason they came here, and the group that just walked in was no different. I could smell it.

Lothar strode over and handed me a beer. “You think Faron is really that fucking stupid?”

“Faron doesn’t strike me as the kind of demon to attempt a takeover. He’s powerful, yes, but weak of character. He’s always been lazy and ignorant. He enjoys his comforts and the respect he gets as a lord, but if he’s gone, then perhaps I read the male wrong.”

Lothar nodded, scratching his beard. “If Lucifer said Asmodeus or that fucking dick Beelzebub were planning a takeover, I wouldn’t even question it, but I agree; Faron isn’t who I was expecting.”

Loth was four hundred years my senior and my sire, but we’d never had the kind of relationship War or Dirk had with their pups.

Roxy headed over. The handmaid was cute and sweet—and fucking deadly.

“Hey, Relic.” She gave me a quick hug. Then she turned to Lothar and actually fucking blushed. “Loth, it’s been a while.” Her smile turned shy.

Lothar frowned down at her. “Rox.” His gaze sliced down her body and then back up, and his nostrils flared. “How you doing, sweetheart?”

“Um … yeah, really good, excited. It’s been a while since we’ve been above ground, you know? Lucifer said he’d take us shopping tomorrow before we go home, and I’d literally slaughter everyone in this room for some In-N-Out Burger, so hopefully, that’ll happen as well.”

Lothar flashed her a grin, and I didn’t know if it was because she was flashing her pearly whites at him and he’d worked out that was what was expected or if he was genuinely feeling it. Like all of us, his emotions were extremely limited, but with War’s mate, Willow, determined to help us feel more, things had slowly been changing. I knew they had for me.

Yes, I still had massive holes in my emotional range, and that wouldn’t change—couldn’t change—until certain things happened. But pleasure—not just the physical—was something I’d been feeling more, and I’d seen it in my brothers more often as well. I guessed it wasn’t surprising that pleasure was an easier emotion for us to truly understand since we’d always enjoyed the physical side of it, whether it be fucking or just a simple touch. All I knew was there were a lot more smiles and even laughter around the clubhouse now than there ever had been.

“Yeah? You’d even slaughter me, Rox?” Loth said.

There was a light in Lothar’s eyes that made me think that smile had definitely been genuine.

She blushed harder and laughed, a light musical sound. “Fine, maybe not you.”

“What about me?” I said because Rox was too fucking sweet for her own good, and we all loved making her blush and squirm whenever we had the chance.

She shook her head. “Oh, no, definitely not you.”

“Why definitely not me?”

Her smile grew softer. “Because you’re my favorite.” She patted me on the chest. “My little Scrappy. My favorite snuggle pup.” The look in her eyes could only be described as warm. “You used to curl up in bed with me when you were tiny and shove your furry nose into my neck to sleep.” She shook her head. “I’d never hurt my sweet little Relic.”

Lothar kind of stilled beside me. We didn’t talk about that time. Honestly, I didn’t know all the details surrounding my birth, and I had no recollection of my mother. All I knew was that Lucifer had decided to try something new. I was the result, and he decided not to do it again, probably because the handmaids had been the ones to take care of me—at least until I was big enough and strong enough to train—and Lucifer did not like sharing them with anyone.

I looked down at the little handmaid, who had somehow hung on to all that sweetness despite how old she was and what she did for Lucifer, and grinned. “Haven’t been called Scrappy in a while, Rox.”

She smiled. “You’ll always be my Scrappy.”

I leaned in. “Don’t tell Urs, but you’re my favorite as well.”

She wrapped her arms around me and gave me a tight hug; she knew how much hounds craved contact, and she gave me what I needed—affection without expectation.

I planted a kiss on top of her head. “Don’t ever change, Rox.”

She looked up at me. “Promise.”

Then she looked at Loth, and bit her lip. She had a thing for him—had for a really fucking long time—but as far as I could tell, nothing had ever come of it.

“Do you wanna hang out tonight, Loth?” she asked, sounding breathless.

Lothar pulled her from my arms and took his own hug, and I knew it was to cushion his rejection. “Would love to, sweetheart, but I already got plans. You have fun though, yeah?”

He kind of screwed up his face, gave her a quick pat on the back, then walked away. Rox watched him go, her smile slipping when she saw the she-wolf standing just inside the door waiting for him. Loth and Asher, an alpha female from the Silver Claw Pack, were friends. He’d helped her build her bike, and they hung out a lot, but I didn’t think it was more than that.

Rox turned back to me when they disappeared through the clubhouse doors. “Did you know Lothar named you?” she said, surprising me.

“He did?”

Lothar had never told me that.

She nodded. “He argued with Lucifer and everything. Said he sired you, that he should get a say.” She grinned up at me. “He said he chose Relic because, one day, others would look back on your creation with reverence, that you would be of historical significance as the first hound born, not made.”

“I never knew. We don’t talk about that time.”

Her gaze slid back to the doors he’d walked through. “He used to come and check on you when you were a tiny pup. He’d watch you sleep with this … look on his face. I’d never seen it on him before, and I’ve never seen it since.” She looked back at me, her smile soft. “And when you got a little bigger, he’d wrestle with you on the floor and bring you meat he’d caught himself. I think he was feeling things he never had before.” She chewed her lip. “It was a confusing time for him.”

I didn’t know what to say. I had no idea. None.

Then Fender was there, our brother grabbing her hand and getting his own hug. She waved to me as she was led away.

I sipped my beer, scanning the room. Lucifer was already surrounded by females while a scowling Ursula stood beside him, Mini in her arms. I lifted a hand, and the handmaid gave me a chin lift.

I should stay. Lucifer was here, and it’d be rude to leave, but the beast was restless—that dominant part of me wasn’t enjoying the confines of this room right now. There was this feeling in my chest, so tight and persistent, that I couldn’t keep my feet planted to the spot even if I wanted to. So, I left the clubhouse and headed for my bike, the destination cemented firmly in my brain.

This was a mistake. I should stay the fuck away, but the call to go back—the driving need of the beast to seek out that little demon—was far too intense to resist. A hound never ignored their instincts. Ever.

It seemed to take forever to reach Roxburgh, especially with the beast rumbling in my chest the entire way.

Finally, I parked my bike, kicked down the stand, and swung off.

I stared down the street at the closed door to Malicious Brew.

Zinnia would be pissed if she knew I’d come back here, but I couldn’t get the witch’s words out of my fucking head—that I’d scared the little demon, harassed her, that I’d almost made her cry. That shit did not sit right with me, not at all, but I also didn’t want to terrify her even more.

Which meant I was standing in the middle of the street with my dick in my hand like a fucking moron, not sure what to do.

Fucking move.

Growling at myself, I headed down the street toward the store we’d visited earlier that day. It was late on Saturday night, but the bars and clubs were a couple of streets over, which meant this street was dead. She probably wouldn’t even be here.

Still, I ran through the list of movies Willow had played for us, desperate for help, for the words that would make what I had done right, but nothing came to me. How did you apologize for terrifying someone—someone who wanted you to keep the fuck away from them—without freaking them out even more?

The door to the store opened ahead of me—

I stopped in my tracks as she walked out, locked the door, popped in earbuds, then started down the street. I was fighting my urge to follow when she stopped, muttered something, walked back to the door, unlocked it, locked it again, tested it with several hard pulls, then turned and marched back the way she’d come. She got no farther than last time when she stopped once more, turned back, and did the whole thing again. Then, finally, apparently satisfied, she strode away, fingers tapping against her thigh as she walked—the same way she had when we were in the store earlier.

I had no idea what that was all about, and I should absolutely turn around and leave, but instead, I couldn’t stop myself from following. She was on her own at night in an area swarming with demons. Yes, she was a demon as well, but still, I didn’t fucking like it, especially since she couldn’t even hear if someone was approaching her.

Scanning her from head to feet, I growled low. She was wearing tight jeans that hugged her round ass and thick thighs and made my mouth water. Her blood-red hair was tied back high on her head, and my fingers twitched to feel those silky strands wrapped around my fist.

I shook my head, trying to shake off the haze of lust pulsing through me. Hounds were always ready to fuck, but I’d never felt like this before—an uncontrollable drive to rut like a fucking animal. Christ, my palms itched with the need to touch. To lift her up, toss her over my shoulder, and take her back to my den with me. To swat that round ass when she wriggled to get away. To tear off those jeans and grip that soft flesh in my hands …

I shook my muddled head again, swallowing hard. Why was my mouth so fucking dry?

She passed two demons leaning against a shop front, and they watched her walk by. One of them grinned and pushed away from the wall, following, and the other chuckled and jogged to catch up.

Nope.

Scooping up an empty soda can from the pavement, I crushed it into a ball and fired it at the grinning demon’s head. It found its mark, connecting hard enough to make a dent in the fucker’s skull. The demon went down, hitting the ground. His friend spun around, teeth bared. I flashed my fangs and shook my head, and the demon quickly averted his gaze, grabbed his unconscious friend by the arm, and dragged him around the closest corner.

And my little demon saw none of it. She hadn’t even looked behind her once. No, her ponytail swished as she walked with a bounce in her step to whatever music she was listening to.

How the fuck had she survived this long? She couldn’t be trusted to be left alone.

She turned off the main street and into a motherfucking dark, dank alleyway. I rounded the corner in time to see her jog across the street and then turn another corner.

Her scent hung in the air, and I drew it deep into my lungs, then exhaled on a low rumble. Fuck, I wanted to lick her all over. Would she taste as good as she smelled? I really fucking wanted to find out.