Free Dream Warrior by Sherrilyn Kenyon

sticky with the blood of the Olympians. Why he wanted to lick it from his fingers …
    Inclining his head to the ancient power, Jericho turned and followed Asmodeus out of the room and down the hallway that seemed to glow. How very strange.
    â€œWhere does the light come from?” he asked the demon.
    Asmodeus glanced up, then looked back at the floor as they walked. “Um, I don’t think you want me to answer that, Minor Master.”
    â€œWhy not?”
    â€œIt might upset you.”
    â€œThen upset me.”
    Asmodeus hesitated another few seconds before he finally answered. “It’s from the blood of the Cali, not the goddess Kali, ’cause let’s face it, bleeding her would just anger her and that’s not a smart thing to do since she’s pretty damn powerful—you probably knew that. Rather it’s from the little harmless Cali demons who were created when she pricked her finger on a rose. Those Cali. Apparently their blood glows. Who knew, right?”
    Jericho paused as he looked up. The Cali were a benevolent race of demons who helped mankind. Since he’d never fought them, he’d had no idea their blood was blue or that it glowed. The blood flowed through the tubes, reminding him of a glow stick. “How many did it take to illuminate the hallway?”
    Asmodeus visibly cringed. “Well, you see the problem with blood is that it often dries out, and so you have to keep a constant supply of it, which is really not something we’re supposed to talk about and why I said you didn’t really want me to answer your question. I was right, huh?”
    Jericho’s stomach churned at the thought of the cold brutality of killing a species just to use their blood for light. Then again, humans pulled fireflies apart for the same exact reason. He couldn’t count the number of people he’d seen who had smeared the poor insect’s abdomen over their skin to make it glow and then laughed about it.
    He supposed it was basically the same principle, really.
    Jericho continued after Asmodeus. “How many demons and people are enslaved here?”
    â€œDefine slavery.” Asmodeus hedged.
    â€œKept against their will.”
    â€œGood definition.” He scratched his chin in thought. “Counting me?”
    â€œWhy not?”
    â€œProbably a couple of million … you know it’s really hard to count to a million, plus they’re always dying and new ones are coming in. I tried to count once, but it got really depressing so I stopped. The constant adding and subtracting. Not my forte, really.”
    It made Jericho wonder what the demon’s forte was. Then again, it was probably best not to ask. “How long have you been here?”
    â€œDon’t know. Again, tried to count once, got depressed so I stopped. I find it easier to just go with the flow. Ease with the peas.”
    Jericho frowned. “Ease with the peas?”
    â€œYeah,” he said slowly, “that’s not a happy memory, either. Let’s forget I mentioned it.” He stopped outside a door. “Here we are. Maybe I should warn you before we enter.”
    Jericho stepped past him and threw open the door.
    â€œOr maybe not. Let’s just barge in and be surprised, shall we?”
    Jericho was definitely surprised by what he found. There were drunk Skoti everywhere. Some entwined in scenes the Kama Sutra would appreciate. He had to pause at one couple. The sheer flexibility required to do what they were doing was amazing …
    Damn, they would both need a chiropractor later.
    If it didn’t kill them first.
    â€œThey’re blood-drunk,” Asmodeus explained as he tugged on Jericho’s arm. “Appears they’ve never celebrated their victories before. Personally reminds me of a bunch of drunk frat boys, but what do I know? I’ve only seen the movie Animal House. At least none of them are pretending to be