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“Can’t.” Wrath shrugged and toed aside a charred piece of wood. “Shade didn’t say, and I know better than to ask. Hell princes are a cagey lot.”
“Right.” The demoness nodded and touched her mate’s hand.
He immediately shrunk back down. “Still.” He motioned the mess in front of them. “This wouldn’t have happened if Shade had been here.”
“He’ll make it right.” Wrath had no problem promising away Shade’s fortune and power. “Send word to his palace and he will make reparations.”
The demoness gaped at him. She might have been attractive had it not been for that third eye halfway down her cheek. All three eyes were currently staring at him as if he’d recently hatched. “You haven’t heard?”
“Heard what?” And Wrath knew worse news was coming. He almost felt sorry for Shade.
“The palace is gone,” she said. “Well, the building is still standing, but the same horde who did this attacked Shade’s palace and ran off any demon who remained loyal.” She growled and all three eyes narrowed. “Most of them joined the mixed hordes who attacked the palace.”
“Mixed hordes.” The demon shook his head. “I never would have believed I’d ever see a time when those of us from Shade rubbed shoulders with Wrath’s scum. It seems like there are more mixed hordes every day, and more and more demons joining them.”
Wrath chose to ignore the insult to himself and his horde. Shit on a stick, that made no sense. “How did they overrun the palace? Surely Shade’s horde defended it.”
“They tried.” The demon shook his head. “Same as we tried to take care of our place. Bunch of them slunk through here yesterday. They were forced out and are running for their existence.”
“You jest.” It was his turn to gape. “How is that possible?”
“Do you call me a liar?” Big boy swelled like he was ready to take on some height again.
“No.” At full strength, Wrath would have given the demon a demonstration of what real size looked like. “I am just finding it hard to believe.”
“Well, believe it,” the demoness snapped. “The ones that came through here said the demons in the horde that attacked the palace are strong. Much stronger than they should be. There has to be a hell prince behind them. No way they could be that strong on their own.”
“But who?” Wrath played dumb.
“My guess would be that warmongering turd, Wrath.” The demon spat. “His lot have been making free with this demesne. Almost like they own it.”
The urge to defend himself rose, and he had to tamp it down. “Huh!” He looked around him. “What about Lucifer?”
“Oy!” A voice broke into their discussion from their left.
The demon and his demoness vanished.
An upper order demon staggered over from the treeline. Large, pointed horns stuck out on either side of his head, and he stood nearly eight feet tall. Muscles bulged and flexed beneath his gray skin.
At full strength, Wrath would have smashed him like the questionable crotchmonkey he was. He faced him. “What?”
“You ask a lot of questions.” The demon came close enough for Wrath to smell his fetid breath. He tried to get a read on the power signature but with his power flickering in and out, it was nearly impossible. Maybe Avarice?
“Got a problem with that?” Wrath put his hand on his sword hilt. What was one of Ava’s demons doing in Shade’s demesne?
“Pretty pig sticker you got there.” The demon sneered. “Get that while you were on your knees for Wrath?” He chuckled. “Word is he likes his demons on their knees.”
Battle lust pounded in Wrath’s blood, but he fought it down. There was a lot about this situation he needed to take note of. Firstly, the demon was an upper demon, so he should have been more wary of approaching another upper demon like his glamour depicted. Upper demons were justifiably nervous of each other because they all had nasty, hidden tricks. This posturing fucknut was oddly sure of himself. “Word is, you know that from firsthand experience.”
A good fight was exactly what he needed to get his mind working again.
With a roar, the demon attacked. Prick was stronger than he looked, and his first blow connected with Wrath’s abdomen and drove the air out of him.
Wrath ducked and pivoted, jumping back to give himself a moment of recovery time.
But the assnugget closed with dizzying speed. A knee to his balls drove Wrath to the ground. Bitchzilla had gone for the kill shot, and Wrath cupped his abused junk.
Hard hands grabbed his hair and wrenched. Wrath found his face on the receiving end of a knee and blood filled his mouth. His nose cracked, and pain lanced through his scalp.
