just might be tellin’ the truth. I wouldn’t mind puttin’ that time to the test...
“No, we’re not mafia, and yes, he practices that grin,” Alder tells me evenly as he smoothly slips his hands into his front pockets.
Flint shoots him an unamused look before turnin’ back to me. “So, your parents are…” he trails off.
“Saints,” I fill in for him. “They’re also off-limits. Which means if I see you here again, uninvited, we’re gonna have an issue.” These two can pretend to be harmless, but an undercurrent of intuition tells me they’re anythin’ but.
Flint holds up his hands placatingly and tilts his head like he’s tryin’ to calm a spooked horse. “You’ll have no trouble from us, darlin’, but we’re worried you may run into some trouble on your own, or at least the other Guardians said Delta did when they first found her,” Flint offers, as though that should make sense to me.
It doesn’t.
My brow furrows. “What the hell are you talkin’ about?”
“Well, we’re not exactly sure how it happened. We have theories, but we’re waiting to hear back from Rafferty and his Guardians to see if they can shed any more light on this. Strut said he wasn’t sure when they’d get back from their trip down under, so it may be a bit before we hear back.”
I blink at Alder, waitin’ for anythin’ to make a lick of sense, but it doesn’t. “Yeah, I’m still not catchin’ what you’re throwin’,” I tell him, completely bewildered.
The guys share another loaded look. I really wish they’d stop doin’ that.
“Shit, I wish we knew how this went over with Delta. She didn’t know either,” Flint mutters to Alder as he rubs the back of his neck, worry pooling in his dark gray gaze. “This is harder than I thought.”
“If I had known we would stumble across our own, I certainly would have procured more information,” Alder admits.
I have never been so confused in my life.
“Are you two messin’ with me?” I demand. I have no clue what they’re talkin’ about, and every time I tell them that, they just get even more confusin’.
“Well, here goes nothing…” Flint announces awkwardly, and for some reason, I tense, like he’s gonna hit me or somethin’.
“We’re demons, and we think you’re supposed to help us guard our Hellgate,” Flint blurts in a rush, like he’s verbally rippin’ off the Band-Aid.
I stare at him blankly for a moment, waitin’ for him to crack a smile or for humor to twinkle in his eyes. You know, somethin’ to give away that this is all some game they’re playin’.
But I get nothin’. Nothin’ but serious stares as they watch the information sink into my expression.
“Did Shelia Dumarsh put you up to this?” I ask, crossin’ my arms over my chest and feelin’ very suspicious.
That stupid bitch has been tryin’ to get back at me for years, and this just reeks of the kind of nasty shit she’s been pullin’ since I “dumped” her brother half a dozen years ago. Not that Allen and I were ever anythin’, but he was goin’ around tellin’ people we were, and I had to set that shit straight. It would be just like her to try and convince me of some outlandish thing like these two bein’ demons, and then make fun of me for the rest of my life for fallin’ for it.
With a scowl, I close the distance between Flint and me, then immediately pull up his shirt.
“Whoa,” he objects in surprise, but he doesn’t do anythin’ to stop me as I feel the hem of his cotton top for some wires or a hidden camera. I check all the way up to the neck of the T-shirt for good measure, and sweet molasses, he is ripped. Lines and dips and hard ridges stare back at me, and I freeze for a second, just to ogle his fine body.
“Find anything?” he teases as I continue to stare at him for way longer than can be considered polite. I quickly blink and get back to the mission at hand. But there’s nothin’. No wires or anythin’. I quickly drop his shirt, my face burnin’ at how blatantly I just checked him out. I will never get that delicious sight out of my brain.
I clear my throat. “Take your pants off,” I order him, movin’ from Flint to Alder so I can check his abs too. I mean shirt. Check his shirt.
My stars and garters, I am in trouble with these