Nope, no way was I riding on Lothar. Urs was about to get on Gus’s back, but I shoved her toward Loth before she could get on and quickly threw my leg over Gus’s back.
“Smooth,” Urs said under her breath, then strode over to Lothar and scooped up his clothes and bag.
She was right, that was way too obvious. I needed to be more careful. Urs bounded up onto Loth’s back, and as soon as she touched him—my blood turned molten in my veins.
Oh no, I didn’t like that.
Not at all.
Gritting my teeth, I gripped Gus’s fur tight. “Let’s go.”
He yapped, and we took off at top speed.
As long as we stayed in front, and I didn’t have to see them, I’d be okay.
At least I freaking hoped so.
* * *
We’d ridden for hours before Lothar finally stopped for the night.
Ursula jumped off his back, and when Loth shifted, she tossed him his jeans. “I’ll get us dinner,” she said and strode into the trees.
Skull Forest was one of many. Yes, the name was utterly unoriginal, but it was literal, making it easily identifiable since the ground was covered in the skulls of ancient demons. Hell was vast, had multiple levels, and passed through a variety of different landscapes—and despite what people thought, it wasn’t hot all the time. This was only one of several forests we’d pass through before we reached Asmodeus’s quadrant.
I dumped my pack on the ground and stretched, then sniffed my shirt and grabbed a hunk of my hair and did the same. I stunk of brimstone. Sighing, I shook out my hair, and ash drifted to the ground around me. I was covered in a fine layer of hellfire soot from the pits we’d passed during the ride here. I freaking hated feeling grimy.
Lucifer had shelters all over Hell, but nothing close for tonight, so we’d have to rough it. Sliding off my jacket, I paced around, getting my blood flowing again after sitting astride Gus for so long.
“I like looking at you,” Gus said from his spot against one of the trees.
“Do you now, pup?” I said and bit back my laugh.
He nodded. “Your breasts are very nice. They look soft, and your ass is?—”
“Okay, Romeo, that’s enough. You need to learn when to keep shit to yourself,” Lothar said, his voice a gravelly rumble.
That roughness sent little zips of electricity through my belly and shooting down between my legs—and nope, no fucking way could I allow that. My anger spiked.
“I don’t need you to speak for me,” I fired at him. “I’ve been dealing with males who want to fuck me all on my own for thousands of years.” What the hell are you doing? You sound insane.
His head jerked back. “Not trying to piss you off, Rox. I was just?—”
“Well, don’t.” There was no stopping me, apparently. The growing, and yes, irrational, anger was unstoppable. “Whatever you thought you were doing, just don’t.”
He straightened from gathering firewood and his head tilted to the side, his golden gaze moving over me as if he were trying to figure me out. His perusal was too much, and my gaze dipped to his wide, muscled chest. It was dusted with dark hair. Hair I knew was soft to the touch, and nestled among it was a darker patch of skin, a scar that he’d carried for so long it was as if he’d been created with it. Did he think that? Did he ever wonder where it came from?
“Roxy?”
My gaze sliced up to his face, clashing with his. “What?”
His chin jerked back again, his frown deepening.
Shit, I really needed to pull it together. This was why I avoided everyone this time of year. This snappy, surly bitch routine was not me. I was the bubbly, happy, fun one. I was the handmaid who all the hounds adored because of the liberal hugs I dished out. Lothar was looking at me now like I was possessed by some evil, deranged mutant. Well, I felt possessed, honestly.
“Sorry, I’m just a bit cranky,” I said and strode over to him, tilting my head back. “I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.” Then I wrapped my arms around his waist, giving him a hug like I always did, even though I didn’t want to right then. I hadn’t wanted to hug him for months, honestly. Touching him had seemed far too dangerous recently.
He immediately wrapped his big arms around me, hauling me against him, giving me the kind of hug only a hellhound could dish out.
