Grave Mistakes (Hellgate Guardians #1)(24)

“What the fuck is going on?” I demand, feeling like I’m about to seriously lose my shit unless someone explains.

Iceman sighs. “I’m—we’re—also demons. Actual demons. As in, not human.”

I blink at him. And blink. And blink some more. My brain hangs up a sign that states left to freak the fuck out, be back in five minutes.

He runs a hand nervously through his blue hair, careful to avoid his horns, and looks to the other guys. “Did she go on pause mode again?” he asks them.

Crux circles around me, lifting one of my arms and letting it slap down against my leather clad thigh like I’m a defective doll. “Huh. Maybe.”

I flinch away from him as the situation suddenly kickstarts my panic. Immediately, I break out into a nervous sweat. It’s like the heat of Hell itself has suddenly enveloped me simply because they admitted to being demons. I start fanning myself as the sweltering temperature takes over my body. “Demons. As in Hell demons?” I clarify.

“Yes,” they all answer at the same time.

I fan harder. “And your costume....”

Iceman clears his throat. “Is, umm, not a costume,” he tells me, looking down at his blue body like he’s trying to see it through my eyes.

I nod quickly, full on sweating now. I touched his spine spikes, for fuck’s sake.

I take a break from fanning my flaming face to pull at the stifling leather encasing my ass. Sweat is pooling below my cheeks and between my breasts as if I wanted a naturally formed pond there. “And you, as demons, are here, as my bosses, to...hang out in a cemetery and fuck with me?” I ask.

“Technically, the mausoleum you found us in is a gateway to get to Hell,” Echo supplies.

God, I’m gonna melt.

“Is there a fan in here? I ask, looking around wildly. “Or some air conditioning? I mean, I saw your kitchen, so I’m guessing no to the A/C, but for fuck’s sake, can someone open a window?” I gasp, feeling like I’m about to combust.

Crux has the audacity to smirk. “I think she’s freaking out.”

“Obviously,” Jerif snaps. He turns to Iceman. “Handle it.”

Before I can be “handled,” I book it toward the huge window and start clawing at it, trying to get the fucker to open. I can’t breathe. My body is like an inferno, and the damn window won’t fucking open. I’m going to die if I don’t cool down.

I start tugging at my outfit, ready to just strip down here and now. I realize that I’m probably having some sort of anxiety attack as my entire existence and reality crashes around me, but I’m too damn hot to act rationally. I pinch the fabric of my shirt, trying to get some air down my chest. I still can’t get the stupid window to budge. The latch is probably made by the devil himself.

With no other options, I raise my scythe, ready to just shatter the fucking glass, but before I can, Jerif catches it in his fist mid-swing.

“Raf,” he snaps as I try to wrangle the scythe away from him.

“Right,” Iceman-Rafferty grunts.

One second, I’m boiling alive and trying to take out a window while wrestling with a demon, and the next second, Iceman’s body is wrapped around mine. His chest and arms surround me. I tense, ready to elbow him in his rock-hard gut, but then his temperature hits me. His skin is blessedly ice-cold. It’s so fucking soothing that I actually let out a whimper as my scorching, panic-heated body melts against him, and I stop struggling completely.

But before I can enjoy it for more than a couple of seconds, his finger reaches up and touches my temple, and I just...stop. One touch from the blue demon, and I’m suddenly, utterly and completely blank.

Like...no panic, no fear, no overheating, no cooling balm, nothing. In fact, I can’t even move. It’s like he actually paused me. I’d be freaked out, but my emotions are paused right along with my body.

Motherfucking demons.





I wake up on a fainting couch in a dark room that—praise the Hellgate—is nice and cool. I run my hands over my body, expecting the stifling leather pants to have disappeared, thus allowing my body to once again regulate its temperature, but I’m surprised—and relieved—to find I’m still fully dressed.

I’m confused for a moment when my hand brushes against something hard and grainy, but I quickly realize it’s my scythe. It’s been left at my side like some comforting stuffed animal. I don’t know what it says about me that I’m actually snuggling it.

Demons.

The word rushes to the forefront of my mind, and I swallow hard as I sit up and take a groggy look at the fainting couch I’m perched on. Of course they have a couch perfectly designed to place a fainter. I wonder how many security guard employees have lain on this thing before me.

The tick of an old grandfather clock is the only sound that fills the room aside from the squeak of my leather as I take stock of myself. Surprisingly, I feel really rested. Like I’ve just woken up from the best sleep ever and I’m spry and ready to go. I stretch a little and look around at the shadow-dipped room, noting that it’s different from where I was before.

I take a second to question if all of this was just some fucked up dream. I mean, who tells some poor, unsuspecting woman that they’re demons, pushes their pause button without permission, and then just leaves them alone in a dark room? I don’t care what species you are, it’s rude.