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The place was gorgeous, but I wouldn’t call it a house.

I heard a whirring noise and turned my head to see a golf cart heading off across the field.

“There are acolytes at the gate and four sets of two that constantly circle the fence,” Grimm explained.

“His following is crazy,” I said, more to myself than them.

“He’s loyal to those loyal to him,” Bryce stated. “They have homes on the rear of this property and everything they could need: food, water, clothes, and electricity.”

“So he has a compound full of devil worshipping psychos?” Arlen sarcastically drawled.

I smiled and shook my head.

“Romero is the devil, so I guess he has an army of worshipping psychos.”

Before she could say anything else, we were pulling around a circular drive and stopping.

Romero was at my door the second my seatbelt was off. He pulled me out and looked me over from head to toe.

“What do you think?” he asked once he was satisfied I hadn’t harmed myself on our journey.

“I think you need to explain why she’s here.” I not so discreetly pointed at Dhal. I had full confidence he wanted nothing to do with her in that way’ she still wasn’t living us under one roof.

“I wasn’t making a pit-stop to drop her ass off. She’s not staying, so don’t start your girly shit,” he smirked and took my hand, leading me towards the front door.

We were the last to enter the house. Cobra was already leading Arlen up the stairs, boasting about her being his new housemate. The second the conditioned air hit my skin I noticed a few key elements.

1: The house wasn’t actually that much larger than his warehouse and had the same setup—almost.

2: Romero had a lucarative lifestyle because of his position; he had nice, luxurious things.

3: The whole satanic theme was ten times worse here than at his old place.

The main ceiling fixture was a black ram head in the center of an inverted pentacle that held four light fixtures.

The large flag was on his open dining room hall, but black and white and instead of red and white. And the wall fixtures were deep golden ram heads that served as placeholders for candelabras in the shape of inverted crosses.

Everything else was normal, if not a little too masculine––all dark brown hardwood and charcoal coloring.

Romero didn’t bother giving me a tour or explaining his décor; he led me straight up the stairs and through a set of black double doors at the end of the hallway. He had me shoved against the wall with his mouth devouring mine without giving me a chance to look around. I kissed him back, greedily.

He let me go and stepped away, running a hand over his lips. I inhaled the smell of him and looked around the room. The bed was black, large, and wrought iron. There were matching dressers and leather loveseat. A flat TV hung on one of the charcoal-colored walls.

“It

’s very you,” I said, taking note of the Sigil of Baphomet on the ceiling above his bed.

“You don’t find it creepy to have the symbol of Satan staring at you while you sleep?”

“That symbol represents my life.”

Right, he had a point.

“We need to talk.” He peeled me off the door and led me to the sofa, sinking down with me on his lap.

“I have the doc arriving tomorrow to check you over. I’ll be here until I get a lead, but I’ve got a lot of shit to catch up on. You’re free to do whatever you want here.”

I nodded. I wanted him superglued to my side, but that really wouldn’t be the best idea for us considering how up and down we could get.