Fashionably Dead Down Under(39)

“You’re forgetting my species, darling. I direct the blood flow and you do nothing for me.”
Was that Ethan . . . and Lust? I tried to open my eyes, but they wouldn’t cooperate. I was on some kind of fur rug with a heartbeat. Where was I and why were Ethan and Lust talking? And why in the hell was she trying to have sex with my mate? Again, I tried to sit up and speak. Again, nothing happened.
“Have it your way,” she shrieked and a wave of dark magic engulfed wherever the hell I was, “but you will be mine. No one denies me, you bastard. No one.”
“Good luck with that,” he replied in a bored monotone.
A crackle of lightening burst and my eyes shot open. My body was still useless, but I could see. Ethan was chained to a wall with iridescent chains binding his body. I assumed they were enchanted. He was gaunt and pale. There were open gashes on his beautiful arms and torso. Why hadn’t he healed? The lightning hit him in the chest and his body jerked. He grunted, but refused to make any other sound. My need to go to him was overwhelming, but my body refused to agree.
“You stupid, stupid man,” Lust ground out between clenched teeth as she pressed her breasts against his chest. Her eyes were dilated with desire and she cupped him in her hand. He was mine and I was going to kill her.
Except nothing worked—not my body, not my mouth and my brain was mushy. How did I get here? The damn Hell Hounds . . . I wasn’t laying on a rug with a heartbeat. I was sprawled across General George’s back. I knew I was still cloaked—I was cognizant enough to recognize that magic.
“George, you fucker, help me wake up. I need to kill Lust. Now.”
“Do you think that’s wise?” he asked, seemingly unconcerned that the slut was dry humping my mate.
“Um, yes, I think it’s wise you jackass and I’m going to make it hurt,” I snapped. “Help me or I’ll . . . ”
“What will you do, Little Astrid?” he inquired.
He had me there. Shit. What would I do? What could I do? These freakin’ dogs had more unexplainable woowoo magic than I’d ever witnessed. I was clueless how to even fight them.
“Please, just help me.”
“Why don’t we think this through for a moment,” George suggested reasonably.
Not feeling reasonable in the least, I imagined myself killing Lust and then kicking George’s ass until he begged for mercy. “General,” I replied as calmly as an insanely angry woman could, “If some skanky dog was mounting Bambi against her will, what exactly would you do?”
“I would kill him.”
“So, why is it that it’s cool for you to off a skanky ho and not me?”
“What feels satisfying in the moment is often the wrong move in the long run.”
“Is there some kind of prerequisite that if you live in Hell you have to talk like a fortune cookie?” I groused.
General George chuckled, but didn’t lift his hairy paw to help me in any way.
“You enjoyed me last time we were together,” Lust cooed, running her hands all over the chest that belonged to me.
Wait. What?
“That was a long time ago and quite honestly I can’t recall much of it. Wasn’t that memorable,” Ethan said.
“You bastard,” she shrieked, slapping his face hard. Her fingernails tore across his chest drawing more blood and leaving angry red welts. “You turned me away when you found out I was a Demon. Well, your precious Astrid is a Demon. Why can you fuck her and not me?”
“I don’t love you.”
My heart tripped at his admission, but he was in the doghouse for popping my slutty cousin . . .
“Love has nothing to do with it,” she whispered as she licked the blood from his chest. “Your time down here is running out, and if you ever want to see your little whore Astrid again, you’ll have to satisfy my needs. It’d be a shame to watch such a fine specimen of man turn to dust.”
“Do not call my mate a whore.” Ethan’s eyes blazed and the room began to tremble. “Did you hear me?” he shouted in a tone that scared me, and if I’m not mistaken made the General and Bambi flinch as rocks fell from the ceiling and the floor rumbled ominously.
“Stop it,” Lust screamed as she dodged a chunk of rock that would have done some damage to her lovely face. “Stop it,” she screamed. “Someone will come.”
“Answer the question,” he roared as the floor began to separate.
“Yes,” she hissed. “I called her a whore.”
One wall of the room caved in completely and Lust looked terrified. Was she not supposed to be here? Did my lovely Uncle Fucking Satan know about this?