“It was nothing. The others helped,” he tells me, his spatula moving the liquid eggs around the pan.
I try not to cringe at the thought of the others being in my house and seeing the physical manifestation of my breakdown. I know the next time I see Jerif will be a hell of a lot more awkward.
“How are you feeling?” he asks, his strong back still to me. He’s good at this wholeprying without making it feel like pryingthing, which I appreciate.
“Good,” I admit, actually meaning it. “I really needed the sleep, and I also really needed to come to terms with this whole demon situation.”
“Feel any differently than you did when we last talked?” he asks me casually, but there’s a hint of something in his tone that makes me pause. I think he’s nervous, which is crazy to me, but it shows me how much he cares about what I decide.
“No, I meant what I said. I was being selfish, and I don’t want to be anymore. I’m still not sure exactly what part I play in all of this and what it means for me, but you said you’d help with that right?” I ask him.
“I did, and I will,” he tells me, shooting me a stunning smile as he turns and hands me a plate of scrambled eggs. “If you’re up for it, we’d like to show you some things today that might help you see just how important and needed you are.”
I nod tentatively and give him a small smile before I pick up the fork and shove a bite of eggs into my mouth. They melt on my tongue like butter, and one chew coaxes out an appreciative moan. Iceman’s smile goes from kind to pleased, and his gaze flickers from my eyes to my lips.
I point at the plate with my fork. “Damn, those are good,” I confess, like the sex noises I’m making weren’t a dead giveaway.
“I’m glad you like them,” he declares, a glint of naughty satisfaction in his rich blue eyes.
“How’d you make them so good?” I shovel in another delicious bite, my stomach doing a happy clap.
“I think extra dirty thoughts as I whisk and season. It always gives them such a sinfully good taste,” he tells me seriously, watching intently as I swallow another bite down.
Holy shit. Talk about a new twist on themade with lovetheory. I swallow hard, feeling butterflies circle around in my stomach.
“Are you for real?” I finally ask, unable to curb my curiosity. Was he thinking about me when he made these?
Whoa, Delta, he agreed to show you why you should consider guarding the Hellgate, not what his cock looks like as it slides slowly into your vagina. Get a grip.
Iceman dazzles me with a heartbreaking smile, his eyes boring into me like he can read my thoughts as he leans in from across the counter. My breath hitches, and I’m not sure what I want him to do next. Kiss me with his blue lips? Feed me more dirty-thought-laced food?
“No. I just add fresh cream and a little swiss cheese. That’s what makes them so fluffy and flavorful.”
My brain skips right past the fact that I didn’t have either of those things in my fridge, and settles instead on his full lips and their proximity to mine. His lips are blue, a slightly deeper shade than his skin, and all I can think about right now is leaning forward and claiming his mouth. I wonder if he’s as good at orgasms as he is at eggs?
I shake that thought away and take a massive bite of my food, mostly to give my mouth something to do other than kiss demons and get my ass into more hot water than I can doggy paddle in right now. Fuck. One vulnerable moment, and I’m becomingthatgirl. You know, the one who starts reading into every kind action like it’s a declaration of interest. The one who has a million ridiculous crushes on people who barely even know she exists. If I keep this moony shit up, I’ll start building shrines and keeping every insignificant thing my crush touches.
I roll my eyes at myself. I’m just horny, that’s all this is. After Iceman leaves, I’ll bust out my favorite toy and spend some time taking the edge off. Maybe then my brain can crawl back up from my clit, and I can handle shit like a grown ass woman instead of some lovesickSeventeenmagazine reading teenager. I have serious demonic shit to figure out, and none of it includes testing anyone’s orgasm-giving abilities or sampling what their tongues taste like.
As if sensing that I’ve mentally pulled away, Iceman leans back, allowing oxygen to once again flood my brain and activate my good sense. I can’t help but notice the flicker of disappointment flash over his eyes. “When you’re done, we want to take you to meet a friend of ours. He had a similarnot my problemtake on guarding his Gate, and we thought it might be helpful for you two to chat.”
“His Gate?” I ask, confused. “There’s more than one Gate to Hell?”
“Oh yes, there are three in the continental US alone. Even more throughout the rest of the world, but don’t worry, we’re just responsible for this one. It just happens to be the most unstable one at the moment.”
I let that information steep for a moment, not sure how it all works, but I suppose I’m about to get a crash course in all of it. I try to swallow back the surging doubt that slams into me, declaring that I’m not ready for this. That knee-jerk reaction isn’t wrong, but whoisready for any major life-altering changes when they move through your life like a wrecking ball? It’s like my kitchen last night—it’s easy to get overwhelmed and only see the disaster that it was, but with a little help and effort, you can uncover the possibility beneath the rubble. I need to focus on that now.
I take my last bite and put my plate in the sink. “Okay, let’s do this,” I announce with more confidence than I feel.
Iceman smiles warmly and offers me his hand. I hesitate for a moment before taking it. “Just remember, Maverick, from here on out, we got you,” he promises.
I try not to let his words coax out too much emotion, but for a couple of seconds, it’s a battle. He pulls me into the living room, and I can’t help but love the feeling of his cold palm against mine. It’s not cold like ice, but cold like a brisk breeze that’s both invigorating and refreshing. I find myself rubbing my thumb against the back of his hand, and I blush when I realize what I’m doing.
Iceman turns to me. “Ready?” he asks, and I can tell that he really wants to make sure that I’m okay with this.
My eyes move away from his earnest gaze, and I double check everything that’s inside of me, clearing away any lingering hesitancy and doubt. My gaze lands on the scythe that’s still nestled together with my umbrella and my recently returned bat that looks pretty damn mangled. I pull my hand out of Iceman’s cool blue grasp and walk over and pluck the Hell weapon from the holder.
“I am now,” I tell him, and with that, he grabs my hand once more.
