Free Dream Warrior by Sherrilyn Kenyon Page A

zits.” Asmodeus shuddered.
    Jericho scowled at the rambling demon. “Are you always this random?”
    He nodded glibly. “Mostly. It really irritates Noir, which is just an added bonus for me. At least so long as I can outrun him.”
    Jericho gave him a hard, unamused stare. “Add me to that list of people you annoy.”
    â€œOh.” He looked a bit stricken. “You’re not going to singe my testicles over it, are you?” Jericho admired the even, dry delivery of a question that was obviously near and dear to the demon’s heart.
    â€œNo plans to.”
    Asmodeus cheered up immediately. “Good. We can be friends, then.”
    Friends? Given the demon’s personality, he wasn’t so sure about that. But Asmodeus seemed rather harmless and a font of information. Perhaps it wouldn’t be too bad to keep him around.
    Provided he could calm down. There was something about the demon that reminded him of a wound-up Jack Russell terrier.
    Jericho turned his attention back to the horny, out-of-control Skoti. “So who leads them?”
    â€œThat one.” Asmodeus pointed toward a couch where a male Skotos was entwined with two half-naked females. “I think they’re having trouble adjusting to the emotions they have outside of their dreams. At any rate, they keep acting like demented teenagers from a porno version of a John Hughes film.”
    Jericho frowned. “How are you so up to speed on pop culture?”
    â€œYou ever been trapped in a hell hole? When not being tortured by psychos, there’s not much else to do. Besides, I like Molly Ringwald. She has this demon look about her that really turns me on. Wish I could get her out of her panties for a few minutes.”
    Yeah … well, at least it explained much about the demon’s insanity.
    Jericho watched the Skotos, who was oblivious to the fact that there were unwanted guests here as he kissed his way down the female’s body. “Head guy is Zeth?”
    Asmodeus grinned. “Oooh, someone was paying attention in class. Yes. Zeth. I would introduce you but he doesn’t like me, either. And since he’s one of those kids who likes to pull the wings off demons—”
    â€œYou don’t have any wings,” Jericho reminded him.
    â€œAnymore. Key word there.”
    Jericho winced in sympathetic pain. He wasn’t sure if he still had his own wings or not. As a human, they’d been taken from him. And since his powers had been restored, he had yet to try them out.
    Not wanting to think about that right now, he made his way through the floor of passed out or entwined bodies to the couch where Zeth appeared as drunk as the rest of them.
    He didn’t look up until Jericho cleared his throat.
    Zeth pulled his head back from the woman’s throat to stare up at him.
    Jericho frowned. Instead of the trademark blue eyes of the Skoti, Zeth’s were jet black. So black, he couldn’t even see the man’s pupils. Were they that dilated or did something else cause it?
    Zeth looked him up and down. “Who are you?”
    â€œYour new commander.”
    Zeth snorted. “Got one. Don’t need another, so piss-off.”
    â€œToo late.” Jericho looked around to get an idea of how many Skoti were in the room. It appeared to be several hundred and none looked to be sober. “Are all of your soldiers here?”
    Zeth leaned his head back so that one of the women could suckle his neck. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
    Jericho pulled the woman off of Zeth, then grabbed him by his shirt and hauled him to his feet. “Focus, asshole. What is wrong with you?”
    Zeth’s head lolled back. “I can’t focus. There’s too much sensory overload.” Zeth laughed as he patted Jericho on the shoulder. “You need to get laid.”
    Jericho had to force himself not to slap some sense into the man. But it was hard to maintain his