I nod. “My mama always said two heads are better than one,” I announce, probably a little too optimistically, but I ate two cinnamon rolls, so I’m gonna blame the sugar rush for what just slipped out of my mouth like I’m a captain of the cheer squad.
Torrance and the Toros can eat their heart out.
Flint snickers a little to my right, and I can’t really blame him. I’ve been a ward-less demon-angel hybrid for less than twenty-four hours, and I have no idea what I’m doin’.
Instead of respondin’, Tazreel just turns to his soldiers and straightens his back like he just slipped into a General suit and he’s zippin’ it up to check its fit.
“I want to hear all strategies for tracking down my progeny and catching the Ophidian,” he barks out sternly. “Once that’s done, we’ll hear other options from the Legion and whichever side has the best plan of action will lead the search,” Tazreel declares.
Delta’s eyes widen in surprise, like she didn’t expect our little speeches to actually work. I’ve known Tazreel and Nefta for way less time, and I’ll be honest, I’m a little taken aback myself.
Maybe I’m not as bad at this hybrid thing as I thought.
We all listen to the ideas that get traded around, not so much in a let’s take turns and work together kind of fashion, but definitely in a competitive, I’m gonna one-up you sorta way.
“What we need is bait,” a handsome demon with dark gray wings calls out, and surprise ripples through me when both Tazreel’s army and the Legion shout out their agreement.
“Bait? What kind of bait?” I ask, perplexed.
Over two dozen demon and angel eyes swing over to me and Delta, and realization drips over me like a raw egg bein’ cracked over my head and slippin’ down my back. It’s not a nice feelin’.
All six of Delta’s and my demon mates stiffen, immediately shiftin’ into protective, pissed-off mode.
“Over my dead fucking body,” Jerif growls, his fire hair glowin’ as bright as his menace-filled eyes.
Flint takes a step in front of me, like he’s ready to just go full marble slab and crush anyone who tries to get at me. It’s real sweet.
“We are not risking our mate ever again,” Alder says, and I see Delta’s mates nod in agreement.
“Why not? It makes sense,” the same gray-winged demon says, steppin’ forward, only to stop short as Crux moves in front of him, blockin’ the demon from gettin’ any closer. I thought the surfer demon was the easygoin’ one of Delta’s mates, but the look on his face right now is pure murder.
“He’s right,” one of the Legion angels says, makin’ eyes swivel over to her where her speckled white wings flare out behind her. “For whatever reason, Morax wants the girls. We can easily set things up to draw him in by using them.”
Several voices murmur in agreement, and the blood drains from my face as I look over at Delta. I mean, I’ve always prided myself on bein’ kind and generous the way my mama raised me, but Mama didn’t name me Joan of Arc. I’ve got no desire to play martyr, and I’d rather leave bait for the fishes.
Unfortunately, more and more voices start to agree, while my mates and Delta’s start shoutin’ and growlin’ back, and the tension on the lawn spikes up so bad my head swims.
Lord Almighty, I’m gonna be bait. I barely escaped the last time I had a direct run in with the Ophidian, and from the sounds of what he tried to do with Delta, he’s not just interested in us because we’re hybrids. He wants us for his sinister plans of omnipotent power, and I want no part of it.
“ENOUGH!”
Tazreel’s voice rocks the ground so hard I lose my footin’. Luckily, Alder catches me with an arm slipped around my waist. He tugs me into his strong body while I shoot him a thankful smile.
Once the din of his voice settles, Taz stalks between the two opposin’ armies, his brow furrowed and his blond wings extended out on either side of him. He stops in front of the gray-winged demon who first made the suggestion, and grabs the front of the man’s black armor like it’s nothin’ but a cotton T-shirt. The material crumples beneath Taz’s powerful fist as my birth father yanks the soldier forward so their faces are just an inch away. The demon looks like he’s about to wet his unmentionables as Taz’s