He had a point. “Are you okay?”

Zayne blinked and looked back at me, his expression smoothing out. “Always.”

My brows lifted, but he opened the door and climbed out, and I decided it was time for me to do the same. Leaving my bag on the seat, I brought my phone with me.

As I walked across gray pavers, I noticed that it was warmer here even though the sun was behind the house. The breeze wasn’t as cool as it had been in the mountains.

“Hey.”

I stopped, turning to Zayne.

He stared down at me, the wind tossing that strand of hair across his cheek. Then his chest rose with a deep breath. “Just a heads-up. The guy you’re about to meet? He is...different.”

“Different as in?”

“He’s a demon.”

“What?” I gasped, reaching for my blades out of habit.

“Bad Trinity,” Zayne murmured, catching my wrists before I could grab the blades. “Hear me out. There’s no reason to be murderous. None of the people here—”

“You mean none of the demons here—”

“None of the people here are going to hurt you or me.” Zayne kept his voice low and calm, but his eyes narrowed.

Holy crap, Zayne really did work with demons. I don’t know what I’d thought. That it was something he’d done only in the past? That he didn’t actively work with demons now?

Zayne stepped in front of me, still holding my wrists. “I know this is odd, but I’m telling you that they are okay. I’ve known one of them half my life, and if we want help finding Misha, these are the people who can provide it.”

I immediately knew who he was talking about.

The girl—the half Warden and half demon that had been raised with him. That was who lived here? Biting down on my lip, I looked over my shoulder to the huge house. Could I do it? Walk into a house that demons lived in and ask for their help?

What would my father think?

Hell, he’d have a fit. Part of me expected him to appear and strike Zayne down and then cart me off back to Thierry’s.

“We are safe here,” Zayne continued, letting go of my wrists to raise the sunglasses to the top of my head so he could see my eyes. “Do you trust me, Trinity?”

“I...” I wasn’t sure how to answer that question. Part of me did, because he’d given me no true reason not to trust him, but I was still wary of him, of all of this. I drew in a shallow breath. “You really think they can help us?”

Zayne nodded. “I do.”

This was huge and potentially crazy, but I would do anything to find Misha, even if that meant going against everything I’d ever learned.

“Okay,” I said.

Letting go of my wrist, he turned with me to the house and we started toward it.

The double bronze doors were already open and a man stood there. He had icy blond hair that hung past his shoulders, and he was wearing a...romper?

Yep.

Definitely a black romper.

The hot breath on my neck and the heaviness increased. My steps locked up, and I immediately reached for my blades.

The man in the romper was a demon.

Zayne placed his hand on my lower back, giving me a gentle nudge forward as the demon stopped at the top of the steps.

“This is a surprise,” he said.

I stopped at the base of the steps, glancing at Zayne.

“It’s okay.” Zayne took my hand in his warm one. He led me up the steps. “This is Cayman.”

Cayman tilted his head as his gaze flickered between us. “Long time no see, Zayne.”

“It has been a while.” He stopped before Cayman, and since we were close, I noticed that the demon’s eyes were the color of rich honey. He wasn’t a lower level demon. “Is he here? I need to see him.”

“They’re both here.”

Zayne’s jaw clenched. “Great.”

Cayman looked down at our joined hands and slowly looked up. “It is.” He turned on bare feet. “Follow me.”

A wave of goose bumps erupted over my skin as we followed, stepping into a large foyer. I looked up, saw a huge crystal chandelier. Fancy. Zayne let go of my hand as we walked under a wide spiral staircase. Looking around, I noticed some...odd paintings on the wall. Some were muted shades of red and black, paintings of fire next to large, blown-up black-and-white photographs of skyscrapers.

“So, Zayne, my man, when you going to let me take the sweet ride for a drive?” Cayman asked, glancing over his shoulder. His brows were nearly black, and the contrast was striking on him.

“When you stop making deals, Cayman.”

My gaze sharpened. Was Cayman a demon broker? They were Upper Level, but sort of like...middle management, making deals with humans for their soul. They were known in pop culture as crossroad demons, but you didn’t need to find a road somewhere deep in the south to summon one. Often, you could find them at bars and other places where humans who were full of angst were drawn.

“Well, that’s never going to happen,” the demon said.

“I know,” Zayne replied, and I couldn’t fathom how he could chit chat with a demon that stole people’s souls.

“Sorry about the living room. It’s kind of a mess. We were marathoning Avenger movies and we kind of built a pillow fort in the process.”

A...pillow fort?

The demon in front of me wore rompers, wanted to drive Zayne’s car and also built pillow forts?

Had I fallen outside and hit my head?

Zayne didn’t respond, but then Cayman hung a left and I saw what he was talking about. The living room was huge with floor-to-ceiling bookcases on either side of a television so big that I hadn’t even known they made them in that size. A large sectional sat in the center of the room, and on the floor in front of the TV was exactly what Cayman had stated.

A fort made of colorful throw pillows, long narrow body ones and fluffy white ones.

It looked so comfortable.

I pulled my gaze from the fort. The largest bowl of popcorn I’d ever seen sat on an end table, next to a half-eaten roll of...cookie dough?...and about three bottles of orange juice.

What an odd combination.

Cayman plopped down in the center of the sectional while I stopped just inside the room. “He’ll be back shortly.” Those odd eyes slid in my direction. “You can come in and sit. I don’t bite.” A slow grin curled his lips. “Unless you like that.”

I tensed.

“Cayman,” Zayne growled out in warning.

The demon ignored him, and I decided I was okay where I was standing. He pouted. “What about you, Zayne?”

“I’m fine. Thanks,” he said, leaning against the wall a few feet from me, hands in the pockets of his jeans and ankles crossed. He looked like he didn’t want to get any closer, and that didn’t make me feel any more comfortable.

“Sorry,” a deep voice interrupted. “Had to take care of a few things.”

My eyes widened as a tall, dark-haired guy entered the room from what I was guessing was the kitchen. He was dressed all in black—black jeans and black shirt. There was a good chance he was even taller than Zayne. Definitely not as broad, but taller. He was too far away for me to make out much of his features.

“Stony, what up?” he asked.

Stony?

I looked at Zayne.

He shot the demon a dark look.

Undaunted by the rather cold greeting, the guy strolled behind the couch and then came to a complete stop as his gaze landed on me.

His head tilted as he took a step closer to me, and then suddenly he was right in front of me, and his features pieced together. He was... He was stunningly attractive, with sharp, angular features and eyes that were golden in color, like Cayman’s, luminous and slightly curved, giving him a feline-like appearance. His lips parted on a sharp, audible inhale.

“What are you doing?” Zayne asked, pushing off the wall.

The guy didn’t answer. He lifted his arm like he was in a trance, his fingers stretching out toward me.

“Don’t touch me.” I staggered to the side, bumping into Zayne.

Zayne hauled me back against him, and within in a heartbeat, I was sandwiched between the two of them, my back warming from the heat Zayne was throwing off, and the same from the guy who stood in front of me. “Remember what I told you. He’s not going to hurt you,” Zayne said. “I was telling you the truth. He’s just being weirder than normal.”

“This is getting bizarre,” Cayman commented from the couch. “And kind of hot, which is not remotely what I expected.”

I blinked.

“What?” The guy in front of me blinked and then looked down at his hand. A look of surprise flickered across his face, as if he just realized what he was doing. His hand curled as he lowered his arm. “Whoa.”

“Whoa what?” Zayne shifted me so that I was somewhat behind him. “What are you doing?”

“I’m coming!” a female voice rang out, and I heard Zayne curse under his breath. “Sorry—”

“Everything is fine,” the new guy called out to her, taking a step back from us. “Don’t come in here, Layla. I mean it. Give me a few seconds.”

My stomach hollowed as the muscles along Zayne’s back tensed. “Shit.”

That also didn’t reassure me.

The demon lifted his chin. “Where did you find her? In a church or something?”

I started to frown. Did Zayne often find people in churches?

“No. I didn’t find her in a church. What kind of question is that?”

“Okay. Well, wherever you found her, you need to put her back, Stony.”

“I’m not a toy,” I snapped, stepping away from Zayne. “Or an inanimate object to be picked up and put back.”

Those fierce amber eyes landed on me. “Oh, I know exactly what you are.”

I went ramrod straight.

“How?” Zayne demanded. “How do you know what she is?”

“I’m not some basic demon, Stony.” His skin seemed to thin and dark shadows blossomed underneath. “I am Astaroth, the Crown Prince of Hell. I know.”