Grave Mistakes (Hellgate Guardians #1)(59)
The noise in the small room starts to settle, and Iceman’s voice cuts through. “We really appreciate you meeting with our fifth. I know the adjustment wasn’t easy for you, and we all thought your story might help.”
“Happy to do what I can,” Flint says with a clap before rubbing his palms together. His words are heavily accented like he was born and raised in Georgia. “So where is he? Let’s help your fifth find his balls.”
I’m not sure if I want to glare or laugh at his incorrect assumption, but the look of shock on his face when Iceman and Jerif break apart to reveal little ol’ me leaning against the wall makes up for it. The dude’s mouth literally drops open as he takes me in. I try and fail not to feel a little smug about it.
“Is that a—” he starts to ask when his gray eyes land on my scythe.
“It is,” Jerif confirms.
“But she’s a...she?” Flint states, like I couldn’t possibly be real.
“How jealous are you right now?” Crux teases, and the lavender skin, yellow-haired demon chuckles.
My eyes land on him, and I notice that I was right before—there really is a big lily-type flower tucked behind his ear. But what’s even more captivating is the rainbow-colored patterns running up the middle of his arms and the sides of his neck. They look like multi-colored shadows of flowers. It’s like the flowers themselves are the lavender color of his skin, but the shading around them is a watercolor splash of various hues, creating different shapes and sizes of blossoms that flow up his arms and neck. He also has a big dahlia flower shape on the front of his throat.
It’s such a feminine juxtaposition to his massive muscled size. I’m trying not to stare, but he’s just so pretty. The watercolor bouquet on his skin is completely engrossing, and he tops it all off with pouty lips, butterscotch eyes, and yellow hair that would make a Disney Prince jealous. I’m about to ask him to show me his smolder when Echo clears his throat, which coaxes my eyes back to him. He has a sneaky smile on his face, but also a possessive look in his black eyes.
I quickly realize that everyone is staring at me, and I get the distinct impression that I was probably asked a question, but I was too busy staring at someone’s ear bloom—amongst other things—to hear it. So I wave awkwardly instead and offer a sheepish smile. “Hey.”
Smooth, Delta, really fucking smooth.
“Well, she can clearly see through wards if she’s staring at Alder that way. What Ring is she?” Flint the banjo player asks, and I can’t help but bristle.
“Um…I’m right here, you can just ask me,” I point out, and the shock he’s still wearing on his face morphs into smooth, confident features. I can practically feel the charisma suddenly radiating off of him.
“True, true, darlin’,” he drawls, giving Matthew McConaughey’s twang a run for its money in terms of hotness. I tamp down the shudder that wants to crawl up my spine as I try not to drool. Marble McConaughey is real easy on the eyes and ears.
“So what Ring are ya?” he asks again, but although his question is innocent, his eyes are banked with heat and locked on me intensely.
“No idea,” I admit on a shrug.
My answer seems to snap him out of whatever deviant trance I suspect he was just trying to put me under, and he looks over at Iceman with confusion. “What’s this, now?”
“That’s been part of our issue, Flint,” Iceman starts. “She didn’t know she was a demon. We sprung that on her in addition to trying to appoint her as a new Gate Guardian.”
Flint whistles and his eyebrows shoot up.
“But how did she not know?” the flower dude, who’s apparently named Alder, asks. His voice is rich and smooth like it’s a thousand-year-old bottle of priceless wine that’s pouring from his lips.
“We aren’t sure. There was some sort of block on her. We think it has something to do with the scythe. It showed up the first night she worked, and since then, she was able to see through wards and detect demons. None of us know how,” Jerif offers.
All eyes turn to the weapon clutched in my suddenly sweaty palm, and I try not to fidget at the intense attention.
“You know what this could mean right?” Alder states.
“Yeah, we’re all on the same page, but there’s no way to know for sure unless we take her to the Vestibule and test her at the doors,” Crux explains.
“So what are you waiting for?” Flint demands, equal parts excitement and irritation. “Someone tried to hide her, and yet here she is...and with that,” he announces gesturing to the scythe. “This could be the answer that all of us have been waiting for!”
“Hold up,” Echo juts in, his shadows shifting over his pale arms. “She’s ours. She came to our Gate, and that’s that.”
“If she’s a true Gatekeeper, then you might not have a say in the matter,” Flint replies, his marbleized face growing stony in expression. “She could be all of ours. All the Gates need to be fixed. Not just yours.”
I’m suddenly looking at two sides of demons who look like they’re about to face off with each other—my four Hellgate guards against Flint and Alder. The aggression in the room hikes up to uncomfortable levels, and there’s not a drop of bromance to be found in the room anymore. Meanwhile, I’m still trying to figure out what a Vespa-tool is, or whatever it is that Crux just said.