A Demon And Her Scot (Welcome To Hell) by Eve Langlais Read Free Book Online

lip didn’t jut, but there was no mistaking the pout.
    “Boo-fucking-hoo. I was a queen until I was wronged too. Do you see me acting all depressed? Fuck no. I had a temper tantrum, killed a few things, and got on with my life.” Mostly. She’d yet to get involved in a serious relationship since her mishap. But at least she’d not given up, not like a certain vampire Scot.
    “I tried killing those who wronged me. It did nothing for me.”
    “What did happen to you?”
    “I sold my soul to the devil so I could be the greatest golfer ever.”
    “But you don’t play golf.”
    “Because the game I won, the shot that should have given me a rosy future , ruined it.”
    “So?”
    “What do you mean so? Did you not hear me? Golf ruined my life. Because of it, I murdered hundreds.”
    A low whistle left her. “Nice. Wish I could have done the same.”
    “Why didn’t you?”
    “In my case, those who screwed me over were gods. Greek ones. They’ve got that whole immortal thing going for them.”
    “You pissed off some Greek gods? How?”
    “I’d rather not discuss it. Unlike some people around here, I don’t live in the past.”
    “I’m not living in the past.”
    “Then get off your fat, lazy, skirted ass and come with me.”
    “But I don’t want to.”
    Funny, he said it, but without his previous fire. Actually, she got the crazy feeling that her Scot wanted out of his depressing rut; he just didn’t know how to do that. She decided to extend a helping hand.
    He eschewed it, springing to his feet and shaking, droplets spraying.
    “Would you stop that? You’re worse than a wet dog.”
    “You were the one who said I need a bath.”
    “You needed one. I, on the other hand, was perfectly clean and dry.”
    “Next time you bring some soap, maybe you shouldn’t forget the towel.”
    Plucking at the damp fabric clinging to her curves, she noted how his gaze strayed and fixed on the delineation of her puckered nipples protruding through the cloth. “Got any towels up at that shack of yours?”
    “Yes, along with a warm fire.”
    Good, because here on the outskirts of Hell, the air was noticeably cooler, and the ever-present sifting of ash almost nonexistent. The heat of the furnace, which kept the pit from freezing, barely reached this distant edge, and she shivered.
    The Scot led the way, following a barely discernible track up the cliff side, which angled left to right and required a sure foot lest a misstep send the unwary tumbling. Curious at his docile acceptance of both her grooming and presence, she couldn’t help but question. “So , have you had a change of heart? Are you ready to come with me willingly?”
    “I don’t want to golf. But—” He turned to peer at her over his shoulder. “I will come with ye to see Lucifer and tell him myself.”
    “Why?”
    “Because ye shouldn’t have to face his wrath at my refusal.”
    She snorted. “Lucifer’s not going to punish me if you say no. And that wasn’t what I was asking. I mean, why won’t you golf?”
    “I have my reasons.”
    “Afraid you’ve lost your touch?”
    “There ain’t nothing wrong with my touch, lass. I can assure ye of that. Or, better yet, I can show ye.” The naughty grin he aimed her way made her stumble, and she might have tested her ability to fly had he not halted abruptly and held her back with a quick hand.
    “If you’re so confident, then why not give our lord what he wants?”
    “First off, there isn’t anyone who can make the devil into a half-decent golf player. Have ye seen the bastard play?”
    “So you’re scared of ending up like his last caddy?”
    A disparaging sound escaped him. “His last caddy was an idiot. Any fool knew not to use the four iron on that hole. He deserved what he got.”
    “If you’re not scared, then why not play? I mean, you sold your soul to be the greatest golfer. Why not use that skill?”
    “Why do ye fucking care?”
    “So long as you come with me, then I don’t