Death Lord

14

8

EIRA

T

he urge to find the Furies, if that’s truly who they were, grew with every moment that passed. By the time I followed Belial outside to his garage, the incessant pull was almost painful, like I was being dragged forward by my ankles, and only sheer willpower stopped me from dropping everything and taking off in a run. Well, maybe sheer willpower plus the other strange attraction I was feeling toward Belial. My pull toward him was equally strong, and at times it felt like I was going to be torn apart between the two conflicting forces.

He swung the keys around his finger as he circled a black Ducati motorcycle in the middle of his garage. He climbed on the bike with ease, and I hated how my eyes followed him, devouring his every movement. Seeing him naked earlier had set something off in me like a ticking time bomb of lust, and now I couldn’t stop drooling over the asshole, even though I definitely was not going to f**k him. Even if he was the hottest guy I’d ever seen.

“Get on,” he said, once he was seated on the bike.

“You have wings and a spectral horse, yet you ride a motorcycle?” I asked, mostly to hide my apprehension at climbing onto the bike behind him. There was not much room there, which meant I would be pressed along that big, hard body for the entire journey. I wanted it and dreaded it all at once.

“You can turn into a wolf, but you don’t run around the city like that, do you?” Belial shot back. “I’ve been alive for thousands of years on Earth because I know how to blend in with humans.”

“Walking around in a hooded cape at night is not exactly ‘blending in,’” I said.

He snorted at that, but eyed me closely. “How old are you, anyway?”

“I just turned forty,” I said, standing a little taller. Among immortal demons, age was measured in centuries, not decades, but I wasn’t ashamed of my youth.

Belial let out a sharp laugh. “You’re not even a century old. Practically still a child.”

“You didn’t think I was a child when you almost kissed me last night, old man,” I snapped.

“And you definitely didn’t think I was an old man when you ogled my naked body this morning. Now hurry up and get on the bike already.”

I huffed and climbed onto the bike behind him. He wore a t-shirt that clung to his muscular chest—which, yes, I’d seen in great detail this morning—and showed off the tattoos that ran all along his arms. I tried not to touch him, but then the bike lurched forward and I found myself clinging to Belial to stay on it as we zoomed out of the garage and onto the street. The second my hands wrapped around those strong arms I felt that annoying spark between us, which only made me want to press my entire body against his. And that spot of his neck in my face was just begging for me to lean forward and set my mouth there.

I closed my eyes and breathed in deeply, trying to get myself under control as we drove out of the French Quarter and onto the highway. Between Belial and the Furies, I was losing my damn mind. Luckily, the ride was shorter than I thought it would be, and before I knew it, Belial was killing the engine on his bike. We were just off the side of a deserted road with dense plants on either side of us, and he gestured for me to hop off, then hid the bike in some shrubbery.

“Is this the place?” I asked, as my gut tried to tug me forward. Keep going, almost there, it seemed to whisper deep inside me.

Belial nodded. “We’ll walk the rest of the way. Stay alert in case we’re attacked.”

“You know what would help with that?” I asked as we started moving through the trees and bushes. “If you took these cuffs off me so I could shift or use magic.”

Belial kept charging through the foliage without looking back. “Not going to happen.”

“I’m not going to run, if that’s what you’re worried about. I’m here to find out what happened to my brothers and the other shifters. I need answers.”

“I’m less worried about you running and more about you trying to kill me again.”

I rolled my eyes. “You’re really hung up on that, aren’t you? Especially for a guy who supposedly can’t be killed.”

“It’s more of an annoyance than a real problem,” Belial growled. “Thanks to you, that shifter got away last night. He’ll probably be out there tonight trying to kill someone else. Which means I’ll have to be out there too to make sure he doesn’t. And if he does kill some innocent person? That’s on you.” “Once again, the only person I saw trying to commit murder was you.” I picked at the silver cuffs on my wrists, wishing I could get them off. “But if you’re so worried, I’ll help you watch over your city tonight. As long as you remove the cuffs, that is.”

“Nope.”

I shrugged. “Well, I had to try.”

“Shut up and stay close,” he said, as we came to the edge of the bushes.

In front of us was a faded, rusty sign that said, “Six Flags New Orleans” and below it, “Closed For Storm,” except the first O was missing. We continued forward and climbed over a fence, while the Louisiana heat washed over me. With my shifter and Winter fae blood, I always preferred a cool, dark night over a sunny day, but if we did run into a group of demons, they’d be weaker at this time. Most imps and shifters would usually be sleeping now. That could give us an advantage.