The boy appeared bright eyed and ready to face the day at Hell’s version of predawn, which was like nine a.m. earth time. Marduke put a finger to his lips and then pointed to the bed, where Miguel’s exhausted mother—His fault. Hehehe—rested. The boy appeared uncertain, so Marduke held open his arms and Miguel ran to him. Most natural thing in the world and, while new, felt damned right.

He headed for the door, only to feel the boy tense. He noticed his gaze trained on the bed. Speaking might wake her, so he padded over softly so the kid could see she was fine.

Only when Miguel nodded did they leave the room.

In the hall, he could finally speak. “Good boy, letting her sleep. I think she could use it.”

The kid agreed.

“Lucky for you, I’m always up early. Gotta tend to the dogs.” His older pair followed him to the kitchen before flopping in front of the hearth. It might seem odd to have one given Hell was never cold, and yet, how else would they cook? And then there was that one time Hell froze over and he was glad to have it.

The boy, whose puppy stuck close to his side, helped him scoop food into the bowls and only sprayed himself once with the water nozzle before getting it in the right place.

Marduke pointed to a rag. “You can wipe off with that.”

Miguel eyed him then the towel. He scrubbed his face dry, leaving the hair by his forehead spiked.

Giving him a nod, Marduke jerked his head. “Gonna help me with the rest?”

A rapid nod and they were off to the kennels, the hounds yipping happily at the sight of him. Only Roisin needed a slap for the way he eyed the kid.

He warned them, “Touch the boy and I will skin you myself.”

The kid almost smiled. He’d swear it.

Side by side, they tended the hounds. There weren’t as many as they used to have. Back in the day, an average of a hundred filled the place, but that was during a more violent time. Now, they kept fewer than a dozen for the Dark Lord; the rest were adopted out.

The morning chores done, it was time to check on an expecting mother.

“Number one rule, never startle a hound.” Marduke crouched by the boy and held out his hand to Morgana, a heavily pregnant bitch who’d taken off the arm of the last fellow who startled her.

Morgana gave him the barest sniff before fixing her beautiful red eyes on the child. She licked her chops.

“Don’t you even think of it,” Marduke chided. “We don’t eat the little ones, remember?”

She definitely rolled her eyes, and the boy by his side gave a little shake. Was he laughing? Nope. A glance showed Miguel serious as ever.