Page 93 of White Hot Kiss

Reaching the foot of the bed, I held out my hand. “Let me see.”

“Join me.”

I stared at him a moment, then rolled my eyes. Standing, I cautiously approached where he lay. “Okay?”

“Uh-uh.” He pulled the book back. “Sit with me.”

I scowled at him. “Why?”

“Because I’m lonely.”

“That’s ridiculous. I’m right here.”

His lashes lowered. “But that’s too far away, Layla.”

My hands curled into fists as a teasing grin appeared on his lips. He wasn’t going to budge. Muttering under my breath, I sat beside him.

“Thank you.”

“Whatever. Can I see the book now?”

Roth handed it over. The book was narrow and couldn’t be more than a hundred pages. A circle and star were drawn onto the front cover.

“The real deal has the symbol engraved and the cover looks like aged beef jerky,” he explained. “Bound in human skin.”

It was all I could do not to drop the replica in my hand. “Ew.”

“Yep. That’s how they rolled back in the day.”

I flipped open the book and let out a low whistle. “Nice.”

I was studying a hand-drawn picture of a half human, half blackbird. The caption beneath proclaimed its name to be Caym, the grand President of Hell, ruler of thirty legions. “‘Master of logic and pun,’” I read. “He looks like a freak.”

“You should see him in person.”

On the opposite page was a half-complete incantation to summon and banish the demon back to Hell. I fell quiet as Roth reached over and flipped through the pages, listening as he made a comment here and there.

I stopped on a demon called Paimon.

“‘Ranked first and principal King of Hell, he rules over the West. He commands two hundred legions.’ Wow,” I said.

“That he does, but he is—or was—high-ranking. Basically the Boss’s assistant. He was the most loyal to the Boss.”

“‘Was’?” I couldn’t stop staring at the drawing. It was a man with some kind of dark headdress, riding upon a camel. Or a horse with back problems. One or the other.

“He and the Boss had a falling-out centuries ago.”

My little old ears perked right up. “A big enough falling-out that he could be behind this?”

“Half of the demons have been on the outs with the Boss a time or two.” Roth sat up fluidly, his shoulder against mine. “See the wonky-doodle banishing spell on the opposite page that was no doubt stolen from an episode of Supernatural?”

I grinned.

“The real book has a real spell, which includes—can you guess?—a real demon trap. That’s why this book is so powerful. If the stone-cold crew—your Wardens—got ahold of this, they could really get rid of demons.”

The gasp came out of me before I could stop it. “What about—”

“Me?” Roth gave a lopsided shrug. “They could try.”