Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
IVY
The sound of something clanging on the floor jerked me out of sleep. My first groggy thought was that one of Heaven’s cherubs had dropped their harp again. Then the smell hit me—brimstone, sweat, and yesterday’s egg salad. Definitely not Heaven.
“Get out of bed, rookie. You’ve got HHB duties.”
A sharp yank on my blanket followed Shana’s gravel-rough voice.
I cracked an eye open to find the fiery-haired demoness standing at the foot of my bed, one hand on her hip, the other holding a mug that looked suspiciously like it had been carved from a skull.
She had the kind of figure that could stop traffic and the kind of scowl that would scare the bravest of souls away.
“I am not here to cater to your pretty ass,” she added, tossing my blanket over a chair.
“Morning to you, too,” I muttered, rubbing my face. My phantom wings twitched—a cruel little reminder of what I’d lost. “What ungodly hour is it?”
Shana’s grin showed sharp, white teeth. “You forget where you are, angel-pants. Every hour is ungodly. Now move it. You’re late.”
Right. Hell.
My quarters, though technically in the “barracks,” were larger than most. I was in a two-room suite with an actual queen-sized bed, not a slab of stone.
The kind of space usually reserved for top-tier demonesses.
Which meant someone important had been bumped to make room for me.
I still didn’t know who, and no one was talking.
I’d have gladly traded with them for a little peace and a lot less side-eye.
I sighed and sat up. “Do you ever miss Heaven?”
Shana snorted. “Sweetheart, I never made it that far north. I worked my way up through the Hellbound HuCow organization until I made demoness status.” She clanked her skull mug on my nightstand, treating me to a second round of clanging. “Get up. You’re on duty at the HHB auditions.”
“Wait a minute—there’s an HHC?” It hit me suddenly: if there was an organization for the men, why not one for the women? I’d never seen it—not that I ever saw any women unless they were in management.
A laugh bubbled up, causing Shana to choke on her coffee. “You thought only men went to hell? That’s hysterical, kid. There might be hope for your righteous ass after all. Now move it—we’ve got bulls to wrangle.”
Max’s face flashed across my mind before I could stop it—the warm smile, the way his eyes had softened when he’d looked at me, the electric jolt that had shot up my arm when we’d touched.
My stomach fluttered treacherously. Just the memory sent shivers down my arms and tightened my nipples.
Fantastic. I was one erotic daydream away from drooling on myself.
“Stop daydreaming, princess. Whatever heavenly hunk or sexy mortal you’re picturing, forget about it,” Shana warned, tugging open my wardrobe. “You’re on shift, not in heat. Put this on.”
She tossed me a fitted black leather corset with red ribbons, a matching red skirt slit nearly to my hoo-ha, and leather boots that laced up to mid-thigh.
“Is this… regulation?” I asked with a strangled voice.
“Relax. You should see what the HuBulls are required to wear. Besides, down here it’s practically a uniform. You’re lucky Lucy likes you—she gave you the demoness deluxe line. New demonesses wear pasties.”
I briefly contemplated how Lucy’s taste often bordered on criminal, then started dressing.
By the time we reached the main corridor of Hell’s Headquarters, the air buzzed with energy. The auditorium loomed ahead like a gothic concert hall crossed with a strip club. Red lights pulsed along the stage, and a massive screen overhead flashed:
HELLBOUND HuBULL GAMES – ROUND ONE: AUDITIONS
Rows of demonesses filled the seats, all curves and curiosity, whispering and laughing like this was their personal entertainment hour. It probably was.
Shana leaned close as we entered the judges’ section. “Word is Lucy’s running the music herself this time. Do you know what that means?”
“Complete chaos?”
“Exactly.”
Lucy appeared onstage in a blaze of black silk, microphone in hand, and hips swaying.
“Welcome, my darlings!” she purred. “Our opening event today is simple. The contestants will perform to my choice of music. Impress us, and you will earn back your dick, along with some new upgrades for the remainder of the competition. Our winner will keep it permanently and join the HHB team. Fail, and you go back to whatever meaningless drudgery Hell HR assigned you. Everyone clear?”
The crowd erupted with cheers. The excitement was so tangible that I had goosebumps.
I took my seat beside Shana, heart pounding. The first contestant stepped onto the stage—tall, naked, and nervous, and very, very smooth in the dangly-bits department.
My eyes widened. “They really weren’t kidding about the Ken-doll thing.”
“Smooth as glass, honey,” Shana snickered. “Think of what they save on waxing.”
Lucy snapped her fingers. Music blared through the speakers—a bass-heavy remix of Super Freak. The poor man looked like he wanted to die again, but he started moving, hips rolling with a mix of desperation and questionable rhythm.
The audience howled with laughter and catcalls. Demonesses fanned themselves; a few even threw some glow-in-the-dark beads onto the stage.
The next contestant fared a little better, actually making eye contact and flexing like he’d done this before. I had to admit—it was mesmerizing in a ridiculous, train-wreck kind of way.
Then the third contestant walked out, and my heart skipped.
Max.
He blinked against the lights, scanning the room until his gaze collided with mine. For a moment, everything else fell away—the noise, the lights, even Lucy’s wicked grin—just him and me.
“Oh, this is going to be fun,” Shana murmured beside me.
I wasn’t so sure.
Lucy clapped once, sharp as a gunshot. “Next!”
Max took center stage, shoulders stiff. For a moment, he looked like a man calculating every poor life choice that had led to this. I nearly stood to go to him until I realized what I was doing.
Lucy purred into the mic, “Oh, don’t be shy, sugar. Show us what you’ve got.”
The music hit—It’s Raining Men.
Max looked right at me and mouthed, You’ve got to be kidding me, then gave the ceiling a hopeless look, as if divine intervention might save him.
“You’ve got this!” I hadn’t realized I’d spoken aloud until Shana grabbed my arm.
“What are you doing?” She hissed. “Do you know him?”
I ignored Shana, my eyes still on Max.
He started awkwardly, swaying from foot to foot, the picture of reluctant resignation. The crowd began to snicker. Then one demoness wolf-whistled.
Was that me?
Max straightened, rolled his shoulders, and—oh no—winked.
“Well,” Shana muttered, “looks like someone has a crush. Let’s hope the boy remembers how to use his hips.”
Max leaned into it. He spun the mic stand, stumbled, caught it, and turned the blunder into a knee slide that made half the room erupt with surprised laughter.
By the second chorus, he’d hit his stride.
What he didn’t have in talent, he more than made up for in charm.
He was athletic and funny, and he didn’t care about making a fool of himself.
He blew me a kiss, not at all worried about singling me out.
Max did some hip thrusts that guaranteed the boy still knew how to use his hips, then pointed at me, clutched his heart, twirled the stand, and mimed fanning himself.
Clearly, this was just to pass phase one of the contest. I mean, we barely knew each other.
And while I felt this crazy, intense connection to the man, that didn’t mean he felt the same.
Maybe he was just using me? I mean, good ole’ Gabriel had been all-in until the moment of divine judgment. Then it was a ghost town, with me as the only resident. The demonesses loved Max. The laughter grew infectious—loud, wild, and unrestrained until the last note died away.
The room went silent for half a heartbeat. Then pandemonium. Applause, shrieking, stamping. Even Shana was clapping, eyes wide with reluctant admiration. He’d been utterly brilliant. I just wasn’t sure how I felt about things.
I couldn’t keep my eyes off him until I heard Lucy call my name. Reluctantly, I looked away from Max. There was Lucy, lounging in her chair, grinning like a cat at a cream factory.
“Well,” Lucy said, rising to her feet, voice purring through the mic, “Well, imagine that. I was thoroughly entertained. You may regain your dick with… upgrades.” Her gaze dropped deliberately to his lower half.
A shimmer of magic pulsed across the stage. Max froze, then looked down—and the expression on his face was pure, stunned relief. Where his smooth, non-existent dick used to be, a tall, thick piece of flesh now stood proudly at attention. Holy cannoli, the man was hung.
The first row of demonesses screamed like fangirls. My eyes were glued to his junk, and I briefly wondered how a girl would ever walk again after being invaded by that thing. Clearly, I needed a tutorial, and Gabriel was working with an inferior tool.
My jaw might’ve been on the floor. Apparently, Heaven doesn’t hand out all of the blessings.
Lucy’s laugh boomed through the mic. “Eyes up, darling,” she teased, snapping me out of it. My face burned hot enough to light a torch.
Max’s cheeks flushed scarlet, but his grin never faltered.
“Passed,” Lucy called out, grinning, basking in the chaos. “Next contestant!”
Max stumbled offstage, cheeks flushed, but smiling like a man who’d just survived a skydiving trip with a faulty parachute. It was then that I noticed the horns. Long and thick, like a bull’s, protruding out of the side of his head. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, how could I have missed them?
I couldn’t help it—I laughed, too.
Hell might be full of fire, brimstone, and bureaucracy, but somehow, Max had just made it… fun.