Grave Mistakes (Hellgate Guardians #1)(43)

What the fuck are you saying, Delta? Abort. Abort!

“Excuse me?” Jerif demands, affronted by my casual dismissal of his fine ass.

“So how about that Hellgate?” I ask with mock cheer, as I attempt to close the floodgates to my vagina and simultaneously change the subject. “If it’s anything like his ass, I can definitely handle Hell,” I bluff. “It’s not that impressive.”

Echo laughs at Jerif. “She insulted your ass. Literally.” Jerif moves to knock his elbow into him, but Echo somehow dodges the move. “Don’t worry, Jerif. Everyone knows I have the best ass of the group anyway.”

Now Jerif and Crux both frown. “The fuck you say?” Jerif asks.

Echo ignores him and wags his white brows at me. “Ready to see mine to compare?”

Now I’m thinking about his pale ass next to Jerif’s dark one, and it’s doing all sorts of things to me. I bet those asses would look real good positioned between my thighs, but I shake off those thoughts. Sex is my go-to distraction when shit is difficult, but it’s not going to help me now. I need to keep my head out of the gutter and my impulses in check, which is a tough feat for me on a good day. But my whole life is about to change one way or another, and I need to stay focused on that. I can’t just have a distraction-fuck and pretend all the complicated shit is going to go away. It’s not.

“No,” Iceman interrupts gruffly. “No more ass flashing.” He shakes his head in front of us as he continues to walk. “I never thought I’d have to fucking say shit like that.”

The other demons snicker but fall silent like chastised school kids.

When our group gets to the cemetery, Iceman leads us to the large stone mausoleum where I first saw the guys. Inside, the five of us cram together in a tight circle, and I look at him expectantly. “If you are indeed a demon like we all suspect, then you’ll be able to pass into Hell with us without issue,” he tells me.

I swallow hard, sudden hesitation taking root. I feel like someone who’s signed up to go bungee jumping, but now that I’m looking over the edge of a bridge and seeing the drop, I’m second guessing why I’d ever want to do anything so mental. “Do I have to?” I ask, my eyes focusing on the non-existent fall into a canyon below me.

“Yes.”

I breathe out stiffly, expounding on my life choices. “All I did was answer a Help Wanted ad. I wasn’t supposed to have to work for demons and go to Hell.”

Echo leans forward. “But isn’t this more exciting?”

I shove him away with my shoulder and then clamp my eyes shut. “Fine. Just do it. Quick.”

“What?” Iceman asks.

“Quick!” I repeat. “Like a Band-Aid, just let ’er rip before I chicken out.”

He pauses, but I can’t open my eyes, because if I do, I’ll probably try to run again, and that’s not really an option anymore. I need to do this, but I need someone to push me over the edge because I can’t jump on my own.

“Alright,” he finally says. “Join hands.”

“Do we need to swap spit and bleed into a chalice too?” I mumble before holding out my sweat-slicked palms.

I feel Crux lean in as he grabs my right hand, while Echo takes my left. “We’ll swap spit with you anyday, Jeter,” Crux says with laughter in his voice.

I open my mouth to say something snarky back, but before I can, Iceman speaks in his demon language. “Ewl uh wiinii.”

Did he just say, Ew, a weenie?

A massive surge like lightning erupts in the air, and I can see it distinctly even through my closed lids. I feel a force push at my front, and I would’ve gone flying back if it weren’t for Echo’s and Crux’s hands holding tightly onto mine. A blast of orange light surrounds me, making me squeeze my eyes shut even tighter, and then I’m pitching forward, like a rollercoaster ride suddenly tipping me on the downward plunge. I scream, and my hands—still holding onto Crux and Echo—try to come straight up like I’m actually riding a rollercoaster or some shit.

Before I can get them even half way up, the sensation of zooming downward suddenly stops, giving me such horrible vertigo that I tip the other way and land hard on my ass. “Motherfucking ow!”

Just like that, we’re in Hell.

I open my eyes and look up at Crux. “Why’d you let go of my hands?” I ask accusingly.

“Sorry, I didn’t realize you’d be so unstable,” he says with some contrition on his face.

I get up and turn my head to yell at Echo next, only to stutter to a stop.

Echo’s pale skin and hair stood out before, but he looks like he’s practically glowing now. That, however, is not what has me gaping like a suffocating fish. It’s the dark black tattoos wrapped around his arms and peeking out of his neck. I watch, fascinated, as the lines shift and slither over his skin like writhing inky shadows.

“Whoa.”

I want to ask if that happens a lot, but then I’m distracted by Iceman. He’s still blue with large horns jutting out of his head, but there’s something so much more captivating about him in the light of Hell. It’s like someone turned on a black light and everything about him came to life in a stunning and completely mesmerizing kind of way.

Looking over at Jerif, I see that he also has the extra Hell hotness about him too. The way his hair and eyes flicker down here is stunning. They looked like fire before, but now I can feel the intense heat coming off of him. He is the epitome of dangerous, kill you in a millisecond, scorching hot lava.