Grave Mistakes (Hellgate Guardians #1)(57)

This one is definitely an imp too, but her sins must not have been too terrible, because she’s not as grotesque looking as our boat driver. She has four eyes, sure, but she also is still rocking some pretty nice cleavage, which is probably how she nabbed this job.

“What’ll it be tonight?” she asks, paper poised in her hand to take our order. “We got blood of the damned on tap, and some fresh brewed demon spirits.”

“Demon spirits will be fine, thank you,” Iceman says with a polite smile stretching across his blue face.

“Coming right up,” she says with a grin that I think is aiming for sultry. Iceman ignores her completely though, which for some reason, pleases me immensely.

Once she walks away, I can’t help but let my eyes drag over to the banjo player on top of the table. His face looks exactly like the white and light gray marble countertops I added to my Dream Kitchen Pinterest board. His skin is completely smooth, the veins of light gray running all along the visible parts of him, and it makes me want to trail my fingers down his body to see what he feels like. I never thought I’d be attracted to a marbleized demon, but damn, he’s hot. Jet black hair, faded jeans, and he’s playing that banjo with bunching muscles. The sound makes me want to shove screwdrivers in my ears, but the sight is almost worth the tune.

“You’re staring.”

Embarrassed at getting caught, I look over at Crux who has his green eyes narrowed on me. “What?” I ask defensively. “He just looks different.”

“You were checking him out.”

“I was not,” I argue, looking around at the others. Jerif is scowling at me—that’s nothing new—but so are Echo and Iceman. “Geez, lighten up. I was just curious, that’s all.”

“It would be best if you didn’t let your eyes linger,” Iceman tells me. “Everyone in here is very dangerous, and you don’t want to give them a reason to become curious about you.”

Swallowing, I nod. “Okay, warning received loud and clear...over,” I add, because I don’t love the feeling of Iceman scowling at me. Luckily, our radio humor gets the reaction from him that I was hoping for. His lips twitch slightly, the scowl gone as he shakes his head and looks around, trying not to break into a full smile. I grin into my lap.

The barmaid stops by again, dropping off a wooden pitcher and five cups shaped like hourglasses. The guys pour themselves a drink, and when Iceman offers one to me, I shrug and try to drink it again, only to nearly spit it out on the table. “Fucking hell, it’s worse than before,” I cringe, wishing there was something I could shove into my mouth to take the taste of paint thinner and rotten chicken away. “That is awful stuff. How can you drink that?”

“Tastes good,” Echo says before setting the cup down in front of him and leaning forward. “But I bet something else would taste much, much better.”

I frown at him. “Like...hot wings?” I ask, wondering if this place has bar food.

All three of them chuckle, and I even get a snort from Jerif.

“Not hot wings,” Echo answers, and then his eyes are trailing over me in that way that guys only ever look at you when they’re picturing you naked and bent over in front of them.

“Oh,” I say, suddenly feeling nearly as hot as I did when we were outside.

Echo’s black eyes glitter in amusement, and I squirm in my seat, because now I’m thinking about being bent over in front of him, and honestly, I bet he could blow my mind.

What is going on? Was my previous horniness contagious or something?

“Oh come on, Jeter,” Crux says, tossing an arm over my shoulders. “Don’t fall for a line like that. Echo might talk a big game, but I guarantee you, I can give you more orgasms.”

My brain stutters, like my mental tongue is getting stuck on the word orgasms, unable to get the damn thing out. “What?”

“I’m just throwing my hat in the Hell Ring,” Crux replies easily. “You don’t have to settle for Echo.”

Instead of getting pissed, Echo snorts. “Don’t listen to him, Delta. Crux has a short attention span. He gets distracted halfway through and tends to fall asleep after just one round.”

“Fuck off,” Crux grumbles, and I suddenly feel like I’m in some weird sex tug-of-war.

“Hold up,” I say, shrugging Crux’s arm off me. “Who said I wanted to fuck either of you?” I demand.

“You did,” Echo and Crux both answer at the same time.

My mouth drops. “I most definitely did not!” I mean, not out loud, anyway.

“We can sense arousal,” Echo says smoothly before taking another drink.

I narrow my eyes. “You’re lying.”

“Nope,” he says, a smirk crawling up the side of his lips.

I blink, feeling a flush spread up my chest. I have no idea if they’re fucking with me or not, but the thought that they can sense when I’ve been clit-conscious is a little horrifying...and intriguing. Can I do that too?

I try to take another swig of my drink, just because I suddenly feel the need to get a little looser and a lot more exploratory, but no. God no. The taste just keeps getting worse. “Ugh,” I grimace, shoving the cup away.

“So you don’t deny it,” Crux says, eyes glittering. “You do want to fuck us.”