and realize that most of it is covered in the same green gravy. Maybe this is what the demons here like to eat, but I’m starvin’, and I’m not gonna try and eat around the Hellfire sauce. Instead, I get up, causin’ my chair to screech as I push it back and then make my way to the center of the table where there’s a small stack of empty plates.
“Allow me,” Strut monotones as he comes forward and tries to pluck the plate from my hands.
I jerk it back out of his reach. His eyes narrow. “That’s kind of you, but I got it, thank you,” I tell him with a smile. I’ve never had a servant or anythin’ before, so this exchange is weird. I’d let him help if he hadn’t already proven that he has no idea what I like to eat and will serve me things my ass will literally regret later.
“I insist,” he counters, steppin’ closer to me, and I can’t help but feel the action is just a little too aggressive.
“No, really. I’m good, but thank you,” I offer, my smile stretchin’ wider, hopin’ he’ll back off, but he just looks even more put out.
“If you’ll just take a seat...” he starts, once again reachin’ for the plate in my hands.
What is this guy’s problem?
I’ve been polite and accommodatin’ as much as I can, but he’s gonna bring on a tribulation if he ain’t careful. There’s hangry, and then there’s demon scythe-wieldin’ hangry. Then again...maybe I won’t have any more episodes now that I’m my angel demon self. Somethin’ to consider. Later, when I’m not starved out of my good mood.
“Listen, buddy, I’m hungry and not in the mood to be pecked at today,” I start, my voice low and menacin’. “So how about you back off and let me dish up somethin’ I can actually eat? I’m sure you mean well, but if you reach for my plate one more time, I might just backhand you with it,” I warn, surprised by the ferocity of my own threat.
Guess I’m more hangry than I thought.
Strut’s eyes flare with anger, but I don’t look away as I try to establish my dominance. The room is silent, and I can feel all eyes watchin’ our exchange. Finally, with one last glare, Strut huffs out a breath and then storms out of the room.
I watch him go, tryin’ to calm the adrenaline that just surged through me at the prospect of a potential fight, and then exhale my own breath of annoyance before turnin’ to the food in the middle of the table.
“Holy shit. You’re my hero,” Delta announces, breakin’ up the weighted silence in the room. Someone snickers.
I give her a sheepish smile, glad that she’s not mad that I just threatened her butler man.
“Is he always so...insistent?” I ask, pluckin’ a new gravy-free cinnamon roll for my plate.
“Yeah, he’s always a prick,” Delta offers with a lift of her brows. “I can’t tell you what it did for my heart to watch you threaten to smack him with a plate, though,” she tells me with a dreamy sigh.
I can’t help but smile at the look on her face. “Will he be alright?”
“Oh, definitely. You should watch your back and never trust anything he ever hands you again, but he’ll be fine,” Delta tells me matter-of-factly. I pause as I dish up food on my plate and turn to her and her demons to see if she’s serious. They all sorta just shrug, like what Delta is sayin’ is an inevitable fact.
Well, shoot.
I make a mental note to host all future get-togethers at our place in Georgia instead, but then I freeze at that thought. Is Flint and Alder’s house now officially mine too? I mean, we are mates, and they don’t seem keen on lettin’ me out of bed too much, but it’s not like they officially asked me to move in, right? Well, they did when the whole Ophidian thing happened, but that’s not the same. That was for protection. Not to move our relationship forward.
When I look over at Flint and Alder, I catch them both lookin’ at my ass. A wide smile stretches over my face, and I shrug my questions off. I think we’ll be just fine.
I turn to Delta. “So, what’s with these weird pants? You a Hell’s Angel or somethin’?”
“Technically, yes,” Tazreel answers before takin’ a prim sip from a tea cup.