Amon frowns, his suspicious eyes darting to the annihilated can. “Why must they falsely name this potion after a healer? It is misleading!”

  “Jesus Wolverine Christ,” I mutter. “You know, I was considering asking if you two were interested in actually leaving this house, but if you’re going to behave like children…”

  Amon’s back straightens, as if his good posture will erase the fact that he was strangling someone less than ninety seconds ago. Cas grins in a way that borders crazed, crowding me and wrapping his arms around my neck.

  “We won’t cause trouble,” he promises, and I believe him for exactly zero seconds. My skepticism must be glaringly obvious, because he tightens his grip on my shoulders and forces me to face him, almost vibrating with excitement. “Rory, we will be so good for you. Don’t you know that? We can be such…” He leans in and kisses my lips in a flurry before nipping at my ear, “… such good boys.”

  “I won’t be.” Amon’s voice is dry and disapproving of the groveling.

  “Fine,” I say, a sly smirk forming as I meet his gaze. “Cas can go, and you’ll be left behind, locked away in the attic. We’ll call you Rapunzel.”

  Amon’s nostrils flare as his frown tightens, narrowing his eyes at me. “Who is this Rapunzel and why would I take his name?” Images of Amon in a long braided wig flash through my mind, and I bite at my lip, fighting a giggle. He glares before continuing. “It matters not. Why is Cas allowed to go if I am forbidden? It is a foolish decision, Rory. I am the more powerful demon.”

  Arms crossed, his chest puffs out as he says it, like a proud turkey with ram horns. My smirk tugs into my cheeks as Cas bounces excitedly on his feet. “Go ahead, Cas. Tell him why.”

  “Because I’m a good boy.” He is pleased as pie as an irritated Amon bites the inside of his cheek, dimpling the skin with a small indent.

  “Can you be a good boy, Amon?” I try and fail to hide my grin.

  The silence stretches out so long I doubt he’s going to answer, but he finally mumbles so low I barely hear him. “Yes.”

  “Yes… what?”

  A scoff rushes from his lips as he rolls his eyes so far back, he probably sees his own ass. “Yes, I can… be a… good boy.” He spits the words out like they’re bitter, with a sneer that’s been crafted and honed over centuries.

  “Now, now,” I tsk, enjoying his irritation way too much. “That’s not very convincing, is it, Amon?” His lips twitch and his nostrils flare even wider as his face tips up, the faint crimson glow in his eyes telling me that his temper is on a razor’s edge right now.

  But I’m realizing that while he talks a big game, he’s not as tough as he likes to appear.

  All bark, just a little bite.

  A broody, growling nibbler, if you will.

  Cas is still bouncing next to me as I slip out of his grip and take a step towards Amon. His gaze flickers to the small smirk on my lips before lifting, something hiding in the shadows of his eyes. Static buzzes in the air as I stop inches away, the tension thickening and swirling, creating an almost suffocating atmosphere.

  “Convince me,” I hear myself say, the husky timbre of my voice surprising even me with its boldness.

  The internal war that’s happening in his head plays out in real time as he battles himself, his pride getting in the way as the seconds count down in silence. He pulls his lips between his teeth and tilts his face skyward, heaving a drawn-out sigh, before he flips a switch. Irritation has been replaced by a heated smolder that drapes over me like silk, his eyes hooded and sultry.

  “Human—” He catches himself, clearing his throat. He tries again, my name rolling off his tongue like sin incarnate. “Rory, if you’d allow me to accompany you out of the house today, I assure you I’d…” The syrupy, thick chuckle doesn’t leave his throat as his tongue wets his lips.

  He steps forward, pressing his bare chest against me as his fingers reach up to tuck my hair behind my ear. “Well,” he murmurs, with another of those deep chuckles. It’s low and seductive, a dangerous combination that has my cock perking up, eavesdropping like they nosy bitch it is. “I’d certainly find many… creative ways to thank you.”

  Silly demon, thinking that he’ll make me forget my mission.

  I can be horny and crafty.

  “And how will you do that, Amon?”

  His low, growly hum, almost a purr, resonates in my ear as he leans in. “I would be such a very… very good boy for you,” he whispers, scraping my lobe with his teeth. My breath catches despite myself, and his cheeks rise in a smile against my skin. “In fact… if you require proof of just how good I can be, I’m willing to demonstrate.”

  Strong hands land on my lower back as he presses his hard body against me, and I melt into it, an obscene moan slipping from my lips. There’s pressure behind me as Cas pins me between them, his lips finding my other ear.

  What a predicament to find myself in, caught between these two beautiful men.

  A demon bread sandwich stacked with juicy red meat.

  Woe is me.

  Before my imagination can get away from me—and it is really getting away from me—I force myself to speak. “Now, now, boys. No rewards before you earn them.”

  Cas gives another little bounce on his feet that makes me smile, but it stutters when I glance up and find Amon’s intense stare locked on me. There’s a heat in his eyes, but underneath, something else lurks.

  Softer, perhaps.

  Confused.

  Undeterred and unaware of the tension brewing between us, Cas speaks from behind me. “Does that mean we get to go somewhere? Oh, please, Rory! Please?”

  “Only if you promise to really be good.” The tiny smile that finds me can’t be helped.

  Amon leans down and grasps my chin with his iron grip, tilting my face up so suddenly I gasp. “So good,” he murmurs, nuzzling his nose against mine in a move that has my entire head swimming. “But only for you… only ever for you.”

  “I won’t tell,” I whisper on an exhale, so quiet I mouth the words more than speak them, but they hit their target. He pulls back with that same conflict hiding under his intense stare.

  “What, uh… what’s going on here, guys?” Cas asks, and Amon’s eyes dart to him, finally releasing their hold on me. Realization hits me that I’m still pinned against him, enjoying the drag of his thumb across my jawline. I push away while an ounce of sanity remains in my hazy brain, dusting my hands and straightening my clothes.

  Clothes…

  I glance up at the two demons, shirtless and in their obscene gray pants—yes, Amon crafted himself a matching pair—and realize what a feat this will be. “Get dressed and we’ll run some errands.” It’s not exactly the most exciting thing in the world, but Cas lights up like I’ve announced we’re headed to Disneyland. Even Amon has an upward tilt to his lips that isn’t full of snark.

  “We are dressed,” Amon says, gesturing at his body. At his painted-on pants that leave absolutely nothing to the imagination.

  The sigh that escapes me is long and drawn out. “What did we just say about behaving?”

  He matches my sigh with his own before the acceptance settles on his face. “Right.” With a momentary close of his eyes, different clothes form over his skin—dark, snug-fitting jeans and a black button-up that strains over his chest. He pushes the sleeves up to his elbows, corded tendons flexing in his forearms with thick veins that web over the top.

  Somehow, it’s even more obscene than the sweatpants.

  Just, y’know, without the dickprint.

  I’m distracted as Cas dresses himself in ripped jeans and a simple red hoodie that’s suspiciously the same shade as my devil undies. Amon’s voice hits me right in my ear and makes me jump. “How’s that for a good boy?”

  Oh, sugar.

  Chapter 13

  Casimir

  Okay, so I’ll be the first to admit that our afternoon started off a little… rocky. Yep, that’s a good word for it. But in my defense, no one explained we would travel in a tiny metal cage that runs with absolutely no magic.

  Humans, amiright?

  When I asked if we could teleport instead, I got a lecture. Blah, blah, the only magic we’re allowed to use is to hide our horns, blah.

  Boring, if you ask me.

  Both Amon and I agree to behave, and once I overcome the initial shock of the car moving, I enjoy the ride. Although, I’ll never admit it was me who squealed at the first motion of the wheels.

  Breathtaking landscapes roll by, and I’m plastered to the window in awe. “What are those?” I ask for what must be the fifteenth time, and Rory’s chuckle is still as entertained.

  He follows my finger to the black and white cluster of animals, their wide bellies and skinny legs seeming to defy gravity. “Cows,” he says, and I repeat the word a few times, letting it roll around in my mouth.

  “They do not appear suitable for mounting and riding into battle. Too slow.”

  His eyebrow quirks. “Are there many battles in Hell to ride into?”

  Amon snorts at the question. “There’s an ongoing battle to be first in line at the market.”

  “Don’t… don’t you just… wait your turn?” His confusion is obvious, and Amon and I furrow our brows as we stare at him.

  “Of course not,” Amon says, rightly horrified. “Wait?”

  “What’s the point of being a superior demon if you can’t even be at the front of the line to pay for your sandwich?”

  Rory seems genuinely perplexed, and it only confuses us further. “But…” he starts, then stops and closes his mouth, thinking for a moment before speaking. “How do you determine the order if it’s not based on when you arrived?”

  “Duel.” His jaw hangs open at our synchronized response.

  “You… fight each other for the first spot in the queue? How long does that take?”

  Amon tugs his lip between his teeth, recalling a memory of an epic clash, no doubt. “Hours, sometimes.”

  “But… how… why…” Rory stutters as I watch him, curious. “Wouldn’t it be faster to just… wait?”

  “And let someone else reign supreme? I think not!” Amon cries, disgusted at the idea.

  “Once, the battle to pay for my sandwich took so long that I tucked it in my pocket and forgot about it. By the time I left, it was no longer good and there was mayonnaise everywhere.” I mourn the loss with a heavy sigh. Both of them give me a blank stare before turning their attention elsewhere.

  Rude.

  “So, it’s all a giant dick measuring contest?” Rory asks, and my wide eyes shoot to Amon’s, already unbuttoning our pants.

  “That is a fantastic idea… why have we never thought of this?” Both of us are whipping it out before Rory realizes what is happening in the back seat. “Perhaps this is a better way to determine who goes first.”

  Amon nods, then glances at my cock in my hand. “No need to measure—I win.”

  I scoff, giving myself a few strokes. “I’m a grower, not a shower, so that’s not a fair fight. Give me a sec—”

  Rory releases an unnecessarily dramatic gasp, undertones of shock mixed in. “What are you two doing back there?” He struggles to peer over his shoulder, unable to divert his attention from the road.

  “Nothing,” we say in perfect unison, hurrying to tuck ourselves into our jeans. I frown at my half-chub that pushes against the denim, pressing my palm against it and grunting at the pressure.

  Amon shoots me a look, before flashing an unnaturally wide smile at Rory. “We are being good boys.”

  “The best boys who are not at all suspicious,” I add helpfully.

  Why doesn’t he look convinced?

  Rory runs his errands, stopping at places called The Post Office and The Bank, but we aren’t allowed to leave the car. We don’t even have enough time for another dick measuring contest before he returns, narrowing his eyes both times like he expected us to be missing.

  He still isn’t aware of the power he wields, which is as endearing as it is naïve. Witches of the past had such mastery over their demons that they could manipulate our every action. If you were commanded not to breathe until you suffocated, you had no other option.

  In hindsight, I realize I should have offered him more guidance from the beginning. Even without knowing him, it was crystal clear that his intentions were never evil. His pure soul would never knowingly exploit another being, demon or not.

  Instead, I used him for my own purposes.

  Guilt swims in my gut, and a hard elbow hits me in the ribs. I yelp as Amon silently questions me with his eyes. I shake my head, giving him a look that says we’ll discuss it later, nodding towards Rory. He stares for a moment, then nods.

  “Okay.” Rory already sounds exhausted from a conversation we haven’t had yet. “Real talk. Can both of you be on your best behavior?”

  “Yes,” I say, as Amon says, “Debatable.” This time I ram my elbow into his side, and he gives a long-suffering sigh. “Yes, Rory, we can act like civilized beings. Well… I don’t have to act, but Cas can fake it and pretend not to be an uncultured swine for a short while, I imagine.”

  Behind the seat where Rory can’t see, I flip Amon my middle finger. “Fuck you,” I mouth, and he smirks.

  “Later, baby,” he says out loud, to which Rory’s eyebrows fly up to hit his hairline.

  My mouth hangs open as I blink repeatedly, and then I let out a theatrical gasp. “Did you just offer to—”

  “No!” he shouts, realizing what his words implied. “Your cock will come nowhere near my—”

  Rory’s voice booms through the car, shocking us both into silence. “Did you not just say you could behave!?” Chastised, both our heads sag in submission to the power.

  “Sorry,” I mutter, and Amon grumbles his apology as Rory takes a deep, calming breath.

  “If you can behave—and right now, that is a big if—I’ll allow you to come inside the grocery store with me.” We both whip our heads up so fast my horn digs into the roof of the car and gets a little… stuck. Amon snorts as I jerk my head a few times and dislodge myself, grimacing at the tear in the upholstery. I stretch, nonchalantly placing my palm over the hole.

  Rory stares for a long moment in his little mirror. “Cas?” he finally says, not looking away.

  “Hmm?” I put on my best innocent face as I smile back at him.

  “Did you stab my car?”

  “I, um, wouldn’t say ‘stabbed,’ really…”

  He’s not amused, so I smile wider, hoping to distract him, but it doesn’t work. “Okay… did you impale my car with your horn?”

  Slowly, I nod, careful not to get too close to the ceiling. “It would seem so.”

  His lips tug into a straight line as he pulls them between his teeth. “And you thought you could… what? Hold your hand there permanently so I’d never notice?”

  Again, I nod, and he sighs. “Put your hand down, Cas.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to just…”

  “Down!” he shouts, the command forcing my hands to my lap. He twists over his shoulder and stares at the hole in the fabric. Another long, drawn-out sigh leaves his nose until he shakes his head. Under his breath, he mutters, “Demons…”

  “You’ll notice I’m being a good boy,” Amon says from beside me, smug as can be, but I resist the urge to elbow him again.

  Best behavior and all.

  The internal conflict within Rory is displayed on his face, his eyes shifting between us, and I pinpoint the exact moment he caves. “There are rules.” Amon and I both lean forward, but the seatbelt catches and unexpectedly throws me backward into the seat, making me cough.

  It doesn’t appear to help Rory’s confidence, but I smile and inch forward again.

  “Rules, you say?” I prompt, and he blinks at me again, like I’m the troublemaker here. He clearly hasn’t seen Amon after an entire jug of demon brew. Those are mental images that you can’t even bleach away.

  “First rule is keep your hands to yourself. Touch nothing, especially other people.”

  “What if someone attempts to harm you in the line battle?” I butt in, and Amon nods in agreement. “You must be protected, Rory.”

  “While that is… strangely sweet… it leads me to rule number two. There will under no circumstances be a line battle.”

  Well, that’s extreme.

  Amon shares my concern, if the deepening crease between his brows is any indication. “How will you pay for your items? Are we stealing them?”

  “Ooooh!” I nod at his ingenuity. “That is a good idea—”

  “No stealing!” Rory shouts.

  “Is that… rule three?” I ask, hoping he notices how much attention I’m paying to the number of his rules.

  He seems even more exasperated now, so I decide that maybe, just maybe, I should be quiet. “Cas…”

  “Rory…” I drawl, before catching myself and resuming my vow of silence.

  “Casimir,” he says, somehow enunciating every letter in my name. “We do not steal things. That doesn’t have to be a rule, because it’s a fact of life. Are we clear?” I nod, keeping my lips sealed. After a piercing stare, his eyes move to Amon. “We will pay for our items by waiting patiently in line with the rest of the shoppers. This is not up for debate!” Amon looks like he’s about to argue but deflates and nods instead.

  “Last rule is to stay with me and not wander off. I need to keep my eye on you both at all times.”

  A frown tugs at my mouth, and I squirm in my seat, still attempting silence, but the wry curiosity in Rory’s expression makes me blurt out, “How will you see?”

  “What?” His face wrinkles up adorably as he tilts his head at me.

  “If you have an eyeball touching us both, we will have to stand very close, and you won’t be able to see well. It also sounds quite uncomfortable…”