I roll my eyes at him—my standard “dealing with Akor” reaction—before focusing once more on the glorious, glorious room. I can just picture myself running through the shelves, the soft cloud carpeting tickling my bare feet. My hands caressing each individual book. Perching daintily on the cloud seat and—
“Fucking hell, Trina.” Van leans forward and wipes at the drool. “I sense more lust on you than I did when we were fucking.”
Akor looks really murderous now. Come to think of it, all of my demons look as if they want to start a fire with all of these books.
But books or boys…
Is there really a correct answer? Boys give you orgasms, but books give you book boyfriends. I mean, if I had to choose one…
“Katrina! Focus!” Zolroth snaps his fingers in front of my face, and if I wasn’t so out of it, I would’ve been pissed. Instead, I blush sheepishly and glance around at my assembled murder. Kastros is peeking down the hall, ensuring we haven’t been followed, while Raz scouts the library—excuse me, the pretentious Knowledge of Good and Evil—without actually entering.
“This is where we’re going to need you, baby girl.” Raz taps my ass gently, though his playful manner does little to dampen the franticness and panic in his eyes.
“Me?”
“Only a pure soul can enter certain areas, remember?” Van adds gently, tossing me a smile. I can’t help but note that it doesn’t meet his eyes—he’s as worried as Raz.
“But I’m not pure,” I sputter out. And then, to emphasize my point, I gesture towards Zolroth’s cock, because I’m super articulate. “That was just in me!”
“That,” my posh demon huffs, “deserves a better name. It’s a bloody masterpiece, is what it is.”
“You’re gonna have to trust us, sweetheart.” Van steps forward to cup my cheek. “You know we would never put you in danger, but you’re the only one who can enter this room and find what we need.”
“And fortunately, no one is here,” Raz growls, sounding extremely pissed off at the fact that I’m potentially putting myself in danger. “But you’re gonna have to go alone. We can’t enter.”
“Wha-what would you have done if I wasn’t with you? What would happen if you entered this room?” I spin away from Van and place my hand on my hips, awaiting their answer.
Wary glances are exchanged before Akor smiles brilliantly.
“Spontaneous combustion, of course.” He sounds almost cheerful about the idea. “But to answer your first question, our—I mean, their, because I was solidly on Team Bring Katrina—plan involved kidnapping one of those pure souls you saw entering Heaven. And torture. And a little mayhem.” He sighs wistfully. “I miss mayhem.”
“You’ll get your mayhem,” Raz snaps. “We might need a distraction if someone comes in this direction. Akor, do you think you can handle that?”
“Do I think I can…? What do you take me for?” Akor stares at Raz, genuinely affronted. And then—I shit you not—he reaches into his pocket and grabs a bedazzled grenade, tossing it up and down like a baseball. It’s so sparkly and so…pink. “Distraction is my middle name.”
“I thought it was Leslie,” Van deadpans, and the look Akor throws him is capable of ruining the pants of a lesser man.
“It’s Les-Lee,” Akor says curtly…literally just repeating what Van said, but slower.
Raz pinches the bridge of his nose. “Zolroth? Go with him. And make sure he doesn’t blow up anything prematurely.”
Zolroth nods seriously, turns towards me, and gives me the kiss of my fucking life. I literally see stars and get all soft and mushy inside. If I had my diary, I’d be writing Mrs. Katrina…whatever Zolroth’s last name is. Fuck, do they even have last names? Obviously, they have middle ones, and I know Raz referred to himself as Dämon in Gym, but that’s German for demon. Hmmm. Maybe they can take my last name…
I forcibly shake my head and then focus on the task at hand as Zolroth releases me, grabs Akor’s shirt collar, and drags him down the hall. And, because I’m a doofus and just can’t help myself, I begin to jog in place and crack my neck from side to side. Badass Katrina for the win.
“Okay, what am I doing?” I ask, but Raz hesitates. His eyes flicker across my face, searching without words, before he squeezes them shut. I can tell he wants to abort the mission, to take us home and coddle me, but we can’t. We fucking can’t. We need to know what the