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Gaz made her displeasure with that order known by growling, letting her talons scratch against the volcanic stones. Melchom figured it was the equivalent of a toddler throwing a tantrum.

Too bad.

“What did you say to her?”

Or, Melchom reconsidered, she’d been counting on her little human coming to her rescue. Melchom could see it so clearly in his Dove’s head. He was convinced that Melchom wished the hellhound wasn’t a part of the deal now, and what if Melchom was trying to scare her the way he did to him?

“Nothing,” he protested before his Dove could go on and on in circles, wondering if he should try to negotiate to state the hellhound was off limits.

It was honestly offensive. As if a hellhound’s fear would ever be appealing, or it could be taken without consequences. Hellhounds rarely showed fear, and if they did so next to another creature, it meant there was trouble.

“She’s the best doggo ever. I don’t know what your issue with her is.”

“I don’t have an issue with her.”

Not with her personally, but it wasn’t the time nor place to talk about his—or any other demon’s—history with hellhounds. For one thing, it was complicated. For another, there were minions listening, and none of them knew the details. Melchom would appreciate it if it stayed that way, regardless of everything else that might change in the upcoming… What? Days? Weeks? Months? None of the scriptures mentioned a timeline or anything that could be interpreted as such.

“You never give her scritches.”

“Believe me, she’s fine without them.”

Melchom ignored his Dove’s pout and kept on walking. It wasn’t as if Dove was complaining too much. Dove had just realized he had the perfect position to play with Melchom’s hair while pretending to be subtle about it. He’d have to consider carrying him like this more often. His human wasn’t heavy, and there were clear perks to it.

Not smiling about it was hard, but he thought he managed.

Astaroth’s chambers were one floor above Melchom’s, two doors beside the King’s chambers—the ones that had been his. It was why Melchom never visited, and why it angered him further that he had to go up there now. That was what he’d say if asked about it.

“Remember. Not a word with other demons around.”

“But you said he was your brother.”

Melchom’s nostrils flared, his arms tightening around the human. “I said, not a word.”

He’d force his Dove to be quiet if he had to, but Melchom thought they were past that by now. It might be better to play it safe, though… Or it would be, if Astaroth hadn’t intercepted them as they got to the floor.

“I was about to call you.” Astaroth had a big smile on his face, but his eyes told a different story. They were stuck on his Dove as a true apex predator’s would be.

Melchom squared up instinctively as his human huffed and puffed and insisted on being put down. “You’ve always been good at anticipating me.”

“It’s a curse.”

Melchom still kept the human behind him, aware of Gaz beside him. “What’s going on with your PA and the human traitor being in cahoots?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Astaroth waved his hand around. “But please, follow me. I’m sure this can all be worked out around a cup of tea.”

Melchom shut Dove up before his ever-curious human could make any remarks about having tea in Hell. It had been on the tip of his tongue.

“We’re not doing that.”

Enemy?

Maybe.

This time Gaz didn’t growl, proving him right about her doing it earlier to set Dove against him. The thought would perk him up more if Astaroth would stop staring at his human like the prey he was.

“Tragic,” Astra drawled, his black curls bouncing as his head bobbed and his eyes squinted.

Melchom showed restraint and didn’t roll his eyes, but it proved a challenge. “Answer my question, Astra.”