City of Gods and Monsters (House of Devils, #1)

by Kayla Edwards

“If you so much as look at her again, I will break all four of your legs, pup.”

“What was the society called?” Loren recognized the familiar shape carved into the wood half a second before the professor spoke. “The Phoenix Head Society.”

One for sorrow, Two for mirth Three for a funeral, Four for birth Five for heaven Six for hell Seven for the devil, his own self.

His hair was jet-black and shorter on the sides than the top, the strands slicked back from a face as striking as it was lethal. His mouth was well formed, and his jawline strong. He had a straight nose that had clearly never been broken before, which was rare for someone of his…expertise. Loren imagined that if she was able to see his hands beneath his gloves, there would be enough evidence there to suggest he was the one who got most of the hitting in during a fight.

Hot

As Darien pulled up beside it, the driver’s door of the SUV swung open, and Maximus leapt out, tan overcoat swaying. In one hand he carried a rifle; in the other a cigar he threw to the ground and crushed beneath the sole of his cracking leather boot.

Darien flashed her a smile that showed off his shallow dimples. Although she didn’t care to admit it, that smile made her weaker in the knees than she already was. “I certainly debated it.”

“Would you do me the extreme honor of telling me why you suddenly want to drop your panties?”

No comment sir.

“I had no idea you were such a dirty girl, Loren Calla.” His teasing voice was practically a purr.

“Relax, Loren. I’m only teasing you. I promise I won’t bite—unless, of course, you want me to.”

FERAL.

Maximus still couldn’t find words. Darien clapped him on the back so hard it looked like it hurt, and said, “Max seems to have forgotten how to talk to women.”

I would too if i was talking to Dallas don’t worry max

Dallas beamed at him as she shook his hand for longer than what was necessary. “Believe me, the pleasure is all mine.”

Dallas snorted a laugh. “What do you mean, ‘eww’? The man’s a walking sex god.”

Dallas’s brow tilted, her painted lips twitching. “Want to bet?” The confusion that washed over Loren’s face wasn’t faked. Dal’s smile grew. “He looks at you like he wants to find out what you taste like.”

Although she drove him up the wall more times than he could count, he had to admit she had an incredible body. Absolutely incredible.

Two young women—a blonde and a redhead, roughly two dozen feet behind his car. Grappling with each other over what to do with the lone electric scooter they were both standing on. The scooter that appeared to have run out of battery life.

“Trust me,” Darien said with a sly smile. “If I was making a threat, you wouldn’t have to ask me for clarification.”

Cain’s men made to move, but Darien’s Devils were faster. They all had their guns cocked and aimed, their eyes black with the Sight, before Cain’s men could so much as lift their weapons.

The key in the ignition suddenly turned without anyone’s command—and it took Loren far longer than it should have to realize it was the Hob starting the electrical system without starting the motor. Hardcore metal punched through the speakers, causing Loren to jump again, Dallas doing the same beside her.

To Loren’s surprise, the next song that drifted through the speakers wasn’t heavy metal at all—it was a classical piece.

“I’d be pissed right off if no doctors could figure out what was wrong with me.” “Nothing’s wrong with her, Jack,” Darien said.

“Don’t be rude.” Having Darien defend her like that when he himself teased her on a regular basis… It made her feel flattered, she supposed, for lack of a better word. And it made her wonder if she really was right about the mask he wore.

“Don’t hold his behaviour tonight against him,” Max said, his bass voice gentle. “He is trying his best to help you. Don’t forget that.”

“Especially after you kept me up until five a.m. with all that squealing.” Darien was silent for so many minutes that she eventually turned to face him. He was watching her with a hint of amusement in his eyes, the corners of his lips slightly upturned.

A smile played on the curve of his mouth. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were jealous.”

“You know what, Darien?” she said in a cheeky tone. “You’re nothing but a cocky, narcissistic male who’s managed to convince yourself that every woman in the world wants to screw you.”

Darien was upon her in an instant. He tackled her into the wall so hard, it should’ve bruised her to the bone—but he put his body between her and the wall right in the nick of time, taking the brunt of the impact as he closed his arms around her waist, spinning her around before her face could smash right through the drywall.

He did not let go of her—not once during the whole time she fought him, not even when she threw her elbows into his ribs and practically clawed off his face and neck. Not even when she tore the collar of his shirt and scratched at the backs of the hands that would not loosen from around her waist.

The Devil smirked. “Nice try.” He grabbed the remote from the coffee table and flicked on the television. “I’m staying here with you.”

“I’m not the one doing the clawing,” Darien said quietly

Indeed, his neck, face, and arms were covered with faded pink lines from where her nails had torn into his skin. The sight of them sent pain stabbing through her chest; he hadn’t tried to pull away from her that whole time—but had merely held her and took the blows like a punching bag, refusing to allow her to put herself in danger.

Without looking at her, he said in the softest voice she’d ever heard him use, “Pick a show with me.”

“Don’t worry about it. I deserve every mark that’s on me for speaking to you the way that I did.”

The fact that he was somewhat…enjoying…a few of those chick flicks wasn’t a good sign. Not a good sign at all.

Same Darien

“You really are a sly devil, aren’t you?” Darien said to his Familiar as Bandit disappeared into his shadow. The spirit merely ignored him. “I guess you have a thing for the pretty ones, too.”

She cocked an eyebrow at him, and he cocked one of his in answer, but made no move to come any closer.

As if aware of how nervous he was making her, his thumb began drawing circles on the back of her hand; the feeling caused a skip in her heartrate. And when his eyes found hers, and tightened a little with amusement, she scowled at him.

“What kind of blue?” he said to Loren. The fingers of Loren’s left hand crumpled the paper, and she made a visible effort to hold still. “I don’t know,” she hissed. She looked at him, her eyes exploring his features. “A gray-blue. Like your eyes, I guess.”

“Promise you’ll hold my hand every time I need this done.” Her eyes never wavered from his. But as soon as the words left her mouth, blush dusted her cheeks, and she looked like she would’ve kicked herself in the head if it were physically possible. “Deal,” Darien said quickly,

“They’re medical professionals with white or rainbow auras who’ve received the proper training to heal the sick or traumatized by pouring a part of their own aura into them.”

“Alright.” Darien shrugged with one shoulder. “I always thought you were partial to women, but if you’d really like me to suck your dick—” “It’s about respect, not sucking dick, you arrogant ass—”

“If you want proof,” Darien began, “you can either run a test or track Ian down and tell him to open wide.”

“You don’t have to swear.” But she started moving, wishing she’d put on pants instead of shorts, as she reached the very top and swung a leg over the barbed wire. “And you don’t have to whine,” Darien countered. “I can think of far better things for you to do with that mouth.”

“I know you like it.” He practically purred the words. “If I didn’t think you did, I wouldn’t tease you so much.”

“I don’t have to read your aura to figure you out, sweetheart.”

“Maybe I should teach you a lesson for talking back to me and spank your little ass.” Loren blinked, her whole face heating up. “I dare you to try.” The words were nothing but near-unintelligible stammers.

Darien quirked a brow, a smile teasing his mouth. “Sweetheart, you do not want to make that dare.”

sir.

Behind them, Dallas was muttering something about spiders and mice and how she should’ve listened to Darien—the bossy slayer, as she liked to call him—and stayed behind.

A smile flirted with the slayer’s mouth. If he kept looking at her like that, she might just fall in love with him.

Darien tsked. “Says the girl who was ready to drop her panties for me the other day.”

“You’re infuriating,” she stated. Her voice was breathy. “If I infuriate you so much, then why are your little dimples telling me you’re trying not to smile?”