Page 32 of King’s Kismet

I tipped my head and vanished into the void, traveling from Sloane’s home in Nashville to Dolyn’s home in Stars. In those three steps of frigid darkness, death called to me, but I ignored the lost souls, knowing my fellow reapers would gather them.

They expected me to dismiss worldly duties in favor of the Underworld, anyway. I had become known as the Devils’ Death a few years ago, a prestigious title to the reapers who were once demons. To me, it usually meant I was off duty or collecting the souls of the Kings’ kills.

Mostly Jack and Sloane.

According to my predecessor, the older generations had calmed down.

Dolyn’s basement was lit, weapons on the table ready for battle… But no one was in the vast underground space.

Giggles rolled down the stairwell, through the open doorway. And I followed the sound to find the incubus with his chest propped against the wall in the hallway as he leaned his head around the corner.

“You look like a pervert.”

“Shh.” He motioned me closer. “She decided against training today.”

“Why?” I inquired. “She loves fighting.”

“Not as much as she loves Hyde.”

To that, I couldn’t disagree. I stepped around Dolyn, pausing just outside the living room to check on Sloane.

Not that I needed to.

Hyde had been around to see Lo’s tear-filled eyes and the destructive rage that accompanied her unstable emotions… But we were on the fence about how much the thirteen-year-old should know about Sloane’s break-up. Or what we should even call it.

Being caught between childhood and adulthood didn’t stop her from understanding the situation. If anything, Hyde was too perceptive, too mature for her age. That was a by-product of early trauma from her mother and being raised by two dads and her brother.

We should have brought Sloane here to begin with.

They curled on the couch in front of the fireplace, eating blue roecon-flavored ice cream as Hyde tried to talk Lo into painting her nails any color except black.

“Black is my favorite color,” Sloane argued around the spoon in her mouth.

“Black isn’t a color. It’s the absence of color. Try again,” the young succubus volleyed.

“Dark gray.”

Hyde snorted. “Fluorescent pink.”

“Fuck that.”

Dolyn cleared his throat. And they peeked over the back of the couch to let him see their eyes roll in unison.

“She’s thirteen, D,” Lo pointed out.

“You say fuck all the time,” Dolyn’s little sister added.

“Hyde,” he admonished.

“Fine,” she growled, turning to Lo. “We can say freak and fudge… And frick. Oh, and fruck, even though that’s not a word. But we can’t say fuck, or he’ll get his thongs wedged in his ass and screw up the whole night up.”

Dolyn groaned, and Sloane cackled.

It was the first genuine laugh we’d heard from her in months.

Demon Demands - Chapter 20

Alternate POV