Grace and Glory (The Harbinger #3) - Jennifer L. Armentrout Page 0,114

winter, minty scent of his, and then pulled away. It was time to be mature and responsible or whatever. “I guess we should call Cayman.”

The screen of my phone flared to life as Zayne called the demon. I looked out into the rapidly darkening field. It was pretty open minus a few giant oaks. The only sound other than the ringing phone was the hum of katydids or locusts or cicadas. They all were holy crap, huge flying bug to me, so I could never tell them apart.

“We’re here,” Zayne said when Cayman answered the phone.

“Took you guys long enough,” came the response through the speakerphone.

Flushing, I glanced at Zayne. With nothing but the encroaching moonlight, his features were barely visible to me, but I detected a hint of a grin. “I took the scenic route,” he said, and my face burned even hotter. “We’re here, and unless they’re suddenly invisible, I don’t see Roth or Layla.”

“They should be here any minute now. They’ll come through a portal somewhere in the field.”

I arched a brow as I carefully stepped off the asphalt and walked through the calf-high grass. “I hope they don’t take long, because I’m pretty sure I’ll be covered with ticks by the end of this night.”

“I’ll help you check later,” Zayne offered from a few steps behind me.

I grinned as Cayman said, “I’m sure that’s exactly what you’ll be helping her do later.”

“You sound jealous,” Zayne said as he caught up to me, finding my hand and threading his fingers through mine. My grin increased exponentially.

“I kinda am,” Cayman replied, and I could practically see his pout.

“Does anyone own this land?” I asked, scanning the shadowy field and surrounding trees. “If so, just give us a warning in case someone comes out with a shotgun.”

“Roth owns it since he didn’t want neighbors,” Cayman explained. “So he bought about a hundred acres surrounding the house.”

I blinked. “Being a demon must pay well.”

“Being a demon prince sure does,” Cayman said. “But in other words, there’s no one around to hear you scream.”

Frowning, I stopped and looked at the phone Zayne held in his palm. “Well, that’s creepy.”

“I know.” Cayman giggled, and that was even more creepy.

Zayne shook his head as he slipped his hand free from mine, and walked a few steps ahead. “Do you know if they’re bringing back an extraspecial friend with them?”

“No idea,” he told us. “Like I said, reception was terrible.”

I folded my arms. “And did you happen to find out anything about Lucifer potentially sending demons after me?”

“Since none of those who’d be in the know have been easy to find, the answer is no,” Cayman said. “And I know, I’m oh so very helpful these days.”

“That you are.” Zayne turned his face as the sound of...running water came through the phone. “What are you doing?”

“Taking a bath.”

“You’re taking a bath right now?” I asked. “While you’re on the phone with us? When Roth and Layla may or may not be showing up with Lucifer?”

“Hey, it’s not often I get some me time,” he countered. “So when I find that time, I seize it. Also, it’s a bubble bath.”

“You’re a mess,” I told him.

“I know—oh, I have a text coming through. Let me check this out.” There were several moments of what sounded like...splashing and then Cayman said, “Captain? On your left.”

Zayne glanced at me. “Did he just quote Falcon from Endgame?”

“Kind of.” Squinting, I looked over Zayne’s shoulder. The world was stuck in those minutes where everything was sort of gray, and it wasn’t the greatest time for my eyeballs, but the space behind Zayne appeared to ripple. “It could just be my eyes, but there might be a portal opening behind you.”

Zayne turned. “Definitely a portal, but I doubt the King of Wakanda is about to show.”

“That would be cool, though,” I murmured.

Red sparked in the rippling air as the scent of sulfur reached us. My grace pulsed in response, and my muscles tensed. A moment later, a series of tingles erupted along the nape of my neck.

The Crown Prince of Hell and the daughter of the Lilith stepped out of the portal.

As always, I was a bit dumbstruck by their contrasting appearances. Roth with his dark, messy hair and penchant for black and Layla with hers long, platinum blond and love of pastel colors, they were a striking contradiction to one another and yet they seemed to fit together perfectly, like day and night.

Roth was inhumanly beautiful, like he’d been molded