Chapter 11

RYKER

There are no lights on when I roll up to the asshole's house, the street just as barren as it was earlier. This time, however, I came on foot, leaving my Jeep in the underground car park at the apartment. It took me a little longer, but where we're going after this, a car is of no use.

Letting the smoke consume me, I shift into my demon form just outside his house, my hellhound side burning through my skin. It sounds painful, but after the first few times, it's not too bad. The pain only lasts a few seconds, a minute at most, intense heat spreading across every inch of skin as it tears.

The idiot left his door unlocked, too inebriated to remember any form of personal safety, it seems. Fine by me. A piece of wood would never stop a hellhound, but it sure as shit is quieter when we can merely open the door and walk in. I can only sense one being in here, no animals or other people. One set of emotions, albeit reasonably blank thanks to the alcohol he consumed tonight, comes from the back of the house. Taking no mind of my surroundings at all, I walk down there, the taste of her skin still lingering on my tongue.

The way her flesh feels between my teeth almost broke me, mere seconds away from doing something I could never come back from. Knowing my luck, any control I had over her state would disappear the moment my tongue tasted her pussy in real life. Not the worst way for her to wake up, I guess, but I am well aware of her lack of intimacy since escaping the hellhole we called home. She has yet to let anyone close, keeping contact to a bare minimum unless the conversation is one-sided and with Void.

A loud snore from beside me distracts my thoughts of her, guiding my focus back to the man whose life is about to end. On my way here, I did some digging, demons having access to multiple servers that not even the authorities have access to. When people die, especially at the hands of another, they can add it to the database. This collates information for us to then use when reaping and doing deals for humans. Would probably be handy for the authorities to know, but demons rarely give two shits about humans once they die, seeking revenge over law-abiding justice.

Turns out, Mr. Heartthrob here has an extensive history of extortion and assault, mainly of women considerably younger than him. No close family, no partner, no puppies who will miss being fed if the filth is taken out. The perfect present to take downstairs; I should have bought him a bow.

His mouth gapes open as he rips another loud snore, sounding more animal than man. He doesn't wake even though I throw his door open, the timber slamming into the plaster wall with enough force to punch a hole.

Climbing onto the bed, I stand above him in my hellhound form, my teeth the first thing he sees as his eyes flash open. My paw on his chest restricts his ability to breathe, the flailing of his limbs falling short of hitting me at all. What a pathetic waste of fucking space.

Without the chase, his death is quite boring. No hunt, little fear, all numbed by his fun last night. It's a shame, really; I could have done with the release. A little chase, even through his house, could be fun, but this bastard would fall as soon as his feet hit the carpeted floor. In one swift movement, my maw opens, his throat clamped between rows of razor-sharp teeth. One small bite down, and he is gone, the blood blooming across my tongue. The metallic tang overpowers the taste of her that still lingers, pissing me the fuck off.

His limp body lays on the bed with his neck extended to one side, a pool of blood seeping into the sheets. I wait a moment, his soul slowly rising from the body, confused as hell. I love this part.

"Welcome back, asshole. Glad you could join me. Come, let me take you on the trip of a fucking lifetime."

I approach the gates with my soul in toe, the man scared of himself and pissing all over the place the moment his eyes locked with mine. Didn't know souls had the ability to urinate all over themselves, but here we are, learning something new every day.

Two massive hellhounds are standing just to the left of the imposing structure, gates surrounded by flaming skulls. My paws flex on the loose stones beneath my feet, claws raking through the dirt. Taking a deep breath, I inhale the smokey air surrounding me. It's thick and rich, seeping from between the bars of the iron gate.

It's not like I spend all that much time down here, my time usually consumed by the little human searching for me back home or doing small jobs for my reaper. I collect local souls and bring them back here to pass through the gates, but I rarely go any further. Regardless of Void being there with Lyra, I still feel the need to be close; otherwise, my demon side gets restless. It aches to be near her, to inhale her scent. If left without a regular hit of her, I would likely need to be chained to the spot down here, a rabid animal with one thing on my mind.

"You come bearing an actual soul today, Ryker?" one of them growls, prowling closer. There's no reason for them to give me any shit, other than the fact that they are destined for a life of rotating shifts protecting a gate, whereas I get to live on the human plane. "Had enough of slumming it with the humans?"

My lip lifts, a soft snarl sounding through clenched teeth. Today is not the day to test my patience, but they like to try. My kind may live in packs of sorts down here, but they are solitary by nature. Spending time around hellhounds day in and day out sounds like a fate worse than being kicked to the core of Hell, swimming with the damned souls too tainted to even be chew toys to a demon.

"You have no reason not to let me through, so stand the fuck down. Got a present for Grimm."

"By all means, go on through. We will see you in a few hours with your tail between your legs anyway, too used to the pampered life up there to deal with the depths anymore. Barely a fucking hellhound," the one in front mutters under his breath, loud enough for me to hear. They are lucky I have some focus, something that needs me to not rip their jaws apart and feed them their own tongues for breakfast. A demon can only dream.

I walk past them both and through the now-open gates, ignoring the stares from others of my kind and heading straight for the ring of Wrath. Hell is sectioned into seven zones, each with its own leader, named after the seven deadly sins. They are royalty down here, their word final, especially in their particular regions. Hellhounds roam across all seven, some of us bought or traded, some free to live how we see fit. Wrath is where my reaper will be, without a doubt.

"This is the part where I drop the dead weight. Wait here for Grimm to see you with the rest of the lost souls. Enjoy your eternity of darkness. Probably shouldn't have cracked onto my fucking sister. Ahh, well, you die and you learn."

"All this because I made a move on a woman at a bar? What the hell, man?" he responds, gaining the attention of the other hellhounds in this cavernous space. Their firelit eyes take him in, hungry for the emotion he's pulling from me.

"Not just any fucking woman. She's mine and will only ever be mine," I snarl in his face before turning my back. I don't really want to see Grimm if I can avoid it; the demon scares the living shit out of me. All bones under that robe of his, with the ability to end anyone with no more than a touch should he choose. "Have fun with the reaper of all fucking reapers. I hope he takes you to the pits. A little torture would do you some good. Don't stare at his face too long. He doesn't like it when people look."

He cries out, his fear pungent for a soul. Usually, they are a little muted, with hints of emotions but not enough to feed on. This guy, however, he's fucking terrified. Serves him right.

Making my way through the underground tunnels, I breathe a sigh of relief when I see somewhere more familiar. It's where I called home when I first came through the gates, the one place in this pit of misery that brings comfort. Hell isn't how you picture it when you're human, the memory not so distant for me. Not the lava pits and scary creatures, but more a monotone version of the human plane, void of color, covered in a smokey haze at all times.

The overwhelming stench of lust hits me before the club comes into view, sitting along the very edge of Satan's land. The gothic building towers over all the others, with the peaks spiking into the low-lying smoke. Music vibrates through the ground, pulsing up through my paws with every bass drop that hits. Not exactly the establishment I want to be walking into, but the reaper I deal with is friends with the owners.

Two demons man the door, each sporting a scowl as they look me up and down. Interesting that they look down on the lesser demons when they are employed by two vampire siblings who fuck each other, but what would I know? Without a word, they part, opening the doors for me, their lips pulling up into snarls.

The club is dark and moody, reeking of sweat and alcohol. Bodies move with each other, some fucking, others dancing. I can even see a vampire feeding on a demon over by the crimson-colored bar. This has never been my scene, but even less so after having a taste of her . Sweetness and sin wrapped in a curvy little package. Doomed to be mine once the time is right.

As if sensing me, my reaper looks over the banister, his eyes pinned to mine. He looks pissed, and that's from down here. The demon had waited at the gates for my soul to arrive, pleading his case to Grimm as soon as my feet hit his lineup. Everything you imagine the Grim Reaper to be, he is: tall and imposing, cloaked in black, his body made of bones, with eyes as white as snow.

He decides what each soul is destined for, whether he sees enough strength and control to be a hellhound or the assertiveness and leadership to be a higher-level demon. Then, there is the scum, the ones who deserve nothing more than to be pawns to play with, thrown into the depths for demons to buy and trade, using however they see fit.

Making my way through the crowd, my ears are pinned to my scalp at the sheer energy my reaper, Markus, is giving off, his arms crossed over his chest. His lip is pulled up into a snarl, showcasing a row of bright, sharp teeth. This isn't going to go down well.

"What the fuck have you done, Ryker?" he snaps, pulling the hood of his cloak further down. Their faces are haunting in demon form, black marks around their eyes and mouth, giving the impression of a skull on pink flesh.

"Nothing you wouldn't have wanted me to do. The girl is alive and reasonably unharmed. You should be thanking me, not scolding me."

"You think the two bastards you slaughtered wouldn't tell someone what the fuck happened to them when their souls were brought here?" he snaps, his fists clenching beside him. "They blabbed to Grimm when they went through their allocation, how the big wolf with molten eyes slaughtered them and chased their girl through the woods. You can't let her see you, Ryker. It was a condition of allowing you up there in the first place."

Walking around him, I sit at his side, looking out into the crowd below. A literal playground for my kind, and yet I want no part of it. Every bit of me wants to be back there, watching her, close to her. My limbs twitch with the need to run, to burn off some of this frustration bubbling under the surface. Apparently, though, I need to get my ass reamed first.

"They were going to rape her. I could feel the excitement, the lust, their hands all over her skin while she shook in their grip. What would you have wanted me to do? You know who she is, what she is to me."

"Watch your fucking tone with me, Ryker. You are to remain here until I say you can leave. Your home has been untouched since you were here last, so use it. Blow off some steam, torture a few souls. Whatever you need to do to get your head back in the game." His hand wraps tightly around the banister, wringing the black metal before he speaks again.

"She cannot see you or your demon form again until it's time. Let nature take its course, for the love of Lucifer. Now, get yourself a drink and head home. If I hear you have even tried to pass the gates without my permission, you will be permanently banned from passing."

With that, he descends the stairs, the crowd parting to let him through. Reapers are respected, revered, feared by most demons. They are a vital part of the hierarchy down here that very few are willing to fuck with, necessary for the smooth running of Hell.

"Aww, don't look so sad, little puppy," a voice coos from the shadows behind me. Alexis is all vampire, one of the oldest still living. She makes her way over to me, her black dress dragging behind her on the floor. Her cool hand reaches out, stroking the fur on my back as a laugh breaks through her blood-stained lips.

"Fuck off, Alexis. I'm not in the mood for your shit today. Don't you have a brother to fuck or something?" I snarl back, moving away from her touch. It's well known that Alexis and her twin Alexander are together, the twincest kind of accepted down here in a strange way. According to them, they are mates and not afraid to hide it.

"Ohh, that's funny coming from the dog boy obsessed with his sweet, innocent little sister," she laughs, taking a sip of crimson liquid as she looks across the crowd with a grin. "Look, all I'm saying is your relationship with Lyra is a little on the sketchy side, just like ours. She would be accepted down here. We would take her under our wing too."

"We are not blood related, much less twins. Fuck off."

The vampire and my reaper are old friends, but she's pushing it if she thinks she can talk about Lyra with me. Her twin starts to approach, his jaw set in a harsh line. The aristocratic-looking asshole has an air about him, one that reeks of death. Looks like my time here is about up for tonight.

"Listen here and listen close. My relationship is none of your fucking business and never will be. Drop it or don't, but not even your brother could save you from what will fucking happen if her name falls from your lips again."