londe danced by and tried to grab the Seraph’s hand, but Cale smiled and let her pass.
“I think that it’s unusual for a demon lord to come topside and visit a bar inhabited by Seraph.” Cale’s voice hardened. “If he wanted to snatch the boy he’d have gone for it, not walked in here like a tourist.” Cale frowned. “There’s a reason behind his actions.”
“Let’s see what the bastard wants.” Declan pushed forward. He smelled the darkness that surrounded Samael. It was sweet, sickly sweet, and he swallowed as it caressed his flesh. Like a drug, the dark side called to him constantly and it was a struggle to resist the pull.
Working for the Seraph did nothing to alleviate the need that gnawed at him. No one knew of the darkness he’d fed from when he’d been imprisoned in the Hell realm, not even Bill. Surely if the elf had known, he’d never have offered him asylum.
Declan clenched his teeth together. He needed to be strong for Ana and Kaden.
He led the way, the three of them sliding through the crowd with ease. His eyes never left Samael, and as they came abreast of the demon lord, he nodded. A wicked smile broke upon Declan’s face, and the two demons flanking Samael, snarled at his audacity. They were from a class of lower demon, grunts really, and that surprised Declan.
The demon lord wore dark glasses, large aviator frames that hid what Declan knew were freaky-ass eyes. They would have outed him immediately. Samael was tall, his powerful frame clothed in the requisite denim and leather. His closely cropped hair was jet black and the tattoo along the side of his neck glistened underneath the lights from the bar.
Declan eyed it warily. The dragon tattoo was no ordinary etching. It was alive and could be commanded at will. Such was the power of a demon lord.
“Gentlemen.” Samael’s voice was deep. He smiled. “Can I buy you boys a drink? Unfortunately, there’s no more tequila. I’ve tapped out their supply.”
Declan had no time for games. “Cut the crap, Sammy. We’re not drinking buddies. What the fuck are you doing here?”
Samael laughed softly. Declan wasn’t fooled. He knew the demon lord was a stickler for respect and he’d just dissed him. Big-time. “Always so abrasive, sorcerer. I see you haven’t changed much since last I saw you.” He leaned forward. “On your knees, I think it was. Or between Lilith’s legs?” He shrugged. “I can’t remember.”
Declan’s fists clenched and he took a step forward, but Cale’s hand on his arm stopped him. “Take care,” the Seraph whispered. “Don’t let him bait you.”
Declan glared at the demon, his hands tingling as the darkness inside began to pulsate, feeding from the energy that sizzled around them. He took a moment. Pushed it back. He needed to keep a clear head.
“Look, can we take this outside?” Ransome took a step forward. “Seriously, guys, I’d like to keep the Lounge in one piece if at all possible.”
Samael glanced at the wolf. “What makes you think things will get messy?”
Ransome growled. His skin blurred momentarily and the wolf shifted beneath.
“Oh, it’s gonna get messy,” Ransome retorted. “Trust me.”
Samael ignored the wolf and turned his attention to Cale. “It’s been a long time, brother.”
Brother? An odd word choice.
Declan’s eyes narrowed as he studied the Seraph. The warrior looked relaxed, yet a muscle that flickered across his jaw told a different story altogether.
“Several centuries at least.” Cale nodded toward Sarah. “A double shot of scotch, neat.”
“You still wiping the asses of the Seraphim?” Samael grinned. “What of Cracker? Is he still playing human with his beloved jaguar warriors?”
Declan’s eyes widened. Son of a bitch. He’d always known Cracker was different.
Cale ignored the question, grabbed his drink from the bartender, and knocked it back. He waited for a refill and then spoke, his voice falling in layers. The words were in a foreign tongue, ancient speak that Declan had only heard the Seraphim use before.
The whole thing was weird and had him looking at both Cale and Samael in a new light. The two continued to converse, and Ransome made a sound of disgust.
“What the hell’s going on?” the wolf asked darkly.
Impatience flared inside him and Declan flexed his fingers, letting a ripple of energy fly. The two goons on either side of Samael straightened and he caught sight of their serrated teeth as they turned their attention to him.
“Look, this isn’t some fucking Boy Scout meeting. Why are you here, Samael?” Declan had learned the hard way that sometimes the direct approach was best. Even if it meant an ass kicking was in his immediate future.
Samael turned from Cale and swept the dark glasses from his face as he gazed at Declan. His eyes swirled bloodred, their glow eerie in the dimly lit bar.
“I’m looking for something, truth be told.”