The Unlikeable Demon Hunter Collection: Books 1-6: A Complete Paranormal Romantic Comedy Series

by Deborah Wilde

  Everything took on a surreal, dreamy quality–even Asmodeus, swinging back and forth dodging our dual-sided assault. Despite his injuries, he fended us off pretty well, looking almost amused by the entire encounter. Demons were such dicks.

  Asmodeus feinted left to avoid Rohan and snatched me up by the back of the neck. That fucking hurt. The sweet release of my magic cutting off mid-stream hurt more. Like having a giant shit suddenly reverse course. My entire body convulsed in wave upon wave of needle-like stabbings.

  “Motherfucking, limp-dicked, piece-of-shit,” I raged at Asmodeus.

  “The first two contradict each other,” he said with infuriating condescension. “Watch it, puppy. Keep snapping and you’ll get nipped by much larger teeth.”

  Rohan leapt for me, but Asmodeus backhanded him with a hard crack, winging him halfway across the park to wallop against the post of another brick archway. Rohan crumpled to the ground.

  Asmodeus’ strength, his compulsion abilities were demonic power on a terrifying scale and I was in his grasp, powerless and unable to stop my shallow panting.

  He stroked my cheek, my red-hot agony morphing to a molten heat that consumed me, and lifted me up so that I was eye-level with him. I squirmed, driven by a deep-seated compulsion to do anything he asked of me if he’d satisfy the knife’s edge I teetered on. My lips parted in silent plea.

  The demon tilted his bull and ogre heads, studying me. All four eyes widened, as if surprised. His bull nostrils flared with a soft snort, he tightened his grip, and the world swung sideways with sudden sharp violence.

  Dizzy, unable to summon my magic, I screwed my eyes shut, praying he didn’t toy with me too long before I died. Missing the good old days when the loss of a purple bra was the sum total of my worries.

  “You want… so much.” He touched my face. “Peel back the false layers and embrace your deepest, darkest desires.”

  Syrup slithered through my bones. Yes.

  I opened my eyes.

  A monster had me. A nightmarish image with too many heads and a horrific mashup body, smirking as I struggled in his grasp. “Help me! Heeeeelllllp!”

  A dark-haired man charged us, arms raised. His fingers ended in blades, glinting in the moonlight.

  I screamed again.

  “Nava!” the man cried out. He skidded to a stop before us. How did he know my name?

  I screwed my eyes shut, whimpering, stuck between a nightmare and another nightmare. Wind whooshed against my legs and I was dropped onto the ground.

  I cracked an eye to find the man battling the monster. Not on the same team, then?

  “Use your magic!” the man barked at me.

  I stared at the crazy stranger. Then I did what any sane person would do and ran screaming into the night.

  Behind me, I heard the man swear, and the monster laugh.

  The stranger caught up with me in the middle of the road. I glanced over my shoulder but the monster was gone.

  “Let me go.” I tried to tug free.

  “I can’t.” The man’s face was tight with frustration. He no longer had blades. Had I imagined them? Imagined everything of the past few minutes? Trying to remember events leading up to the monster’s appearance left me clutching my head in agony.

  The stranger ignored my distress, hauling me back toward the park. I doubted he’d saved me just to kill me on his own terms but a girl could never be too careful. Another man had scared me recently. This one? I didn’t think so, but I couldn’t remember.

  Running had gotten me nowhere and there was no one else around to help. I really needed some time to process what the fuck had just happened. Preferably at chez Katz because if my knocking knees gave out here, I suspected I might just curl up in the fetal position and be done.

  “I’m super grateful for your assistance, but how about we call it a night and go our separate ways?” My feet slid in a puddle of something that didn’t match the clear rain water falling around me. I leapt onto the grass.

  “I’d love nothing better, Nava,” the stranger snapped. “Seeing as how you’re a royal pain in my ass.”

  “Excuse me?!” I planted my hands on my hips. “I have no clue how you know my name but you obviously haven’t spent any time around me because I’m a delight.”

  The bastard actually laughed.

  I punched him in the chest hard enough to illicit a satisfying “oomph.” Cool. That one kickboxing class I’d taken last year had really paid off.

  He grabbed my wrist. “You can do better than that, Rasha.”

  Rasha? And what was with his tone of voice? Like a taunt? A challenge? No, an order. Big surprise this jerk bossed people around. I tried to break free but he simply stood there, my arm caught in his grasp, one eyebrow cocked arrogantly at me.

  That look pushed a major button. Something shifted inside me, like a switch being thrown on. Electricity burst from my palms, causing Rohan to jerk back. My memory was now working just fine. “Asshole,” I snarled, lowering my hands.

  “There she is.” He smiled and I was undone at the tenderness in it.

  Our chests heaved in identical rhythms. We were both dirty, our filth ranging in color from demon innard black to demon innard red with a soupçon of purple bruising as an accent. The rain had soaked our clothes and plastered our hair to our heads.

  I checked the park but Asmodeus was really gone. The question was, why?

  Chapter 15

  “I didn’t kill him,” Rohan said. “I don’t know why he left and I’m certain it wasn’t because of anything we did because the two of us on our own had no hope against him. We haven’t seen the last of him.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “You used the snitch, didn’t you?”

  “To be fair, I figured I’d be safely behind the Demon Club wards before he got the message. Before he got to me.” I shivered. “What if Asmodeus was right, and all I want is to forget any of this ever happened? I thought I’d been dealing, but…” I blew out my cheeks.

  Rohan tipped my chin up, forcing me to meet his eyes. “You are dealing. Brilliantly.” He tucked a dripping strand behind my ear.

  My chest constricting at this new layer of intensity to an already brain-exploding night, I grasped his hand, intending to brush him off, but found myself leaning into him.

  He tilted his head, looking at me oddly. “Your eyes,” he said, in a strangled voice. “I can still see lightning in them.”

  Panic clawed at my throat. I opened my mouth to protest the lightning girl label but the sky above lit up with a brilliant flash that let me see the truth of his words in the reflection of his eyes.

  And the heat simmering in their depths. Ironically, that calmed me down. Lust didn’t frighten me. Quite the opposite.

  Rohan curled his fingers around my waist, ducking his head toward mine.

  I slammed my hand over his mouth. “No kissing.”

  That activity had been kiboshed over a year ago after a spectacularly disappointing session with one Elvis Persig. His fishy-lipped nibbling of my face had felt too much like the time I’d stuck my feet in one of those tanks for squirming, toothless carp to eat my dead skin. Except without the exfoliating benefit.

  I loved kissing. Or rather, loved the idea of it as this precious gesture to be shared between two people in love. I just wasn’t sure that love existed. Case in point, my ex, Cole, who was supposed to be there for me when I’d learned I had to stop dancing. The one who’d fucked off instead, leaving me to break down alone. Relationships had become hook-ups. While I’d kept the kissing–at first–these hook-ups weren’t about tenderness and intimacy.

  Easier to let kissing stop being part of the equation.

  Rohan shot me a look of disbelief.

  I gently cupped his crotch, feeling a cheap thrill at his hard-on. “This isn’t romance, baby. It’s lust, pure and simple.”

  “It may be pure but there’s nothing simple about it, Lolita. In fact,” he traced a finger down my cleavage, “it’s rather complicated.” He le
aned in toward me again and I put a hand on his chest to stop him.

  “I’m not dreaming about happily-ever-afters and I’m not your girl with the lightning eyes.” I practically sneered that last bit at him.

  It took a second for him to believe me. Trust me, I saw the moment that he did because a dark savagery crossed his face. I skittered back, my back hitting a wide tree trunk but Rohan didn’t move. He clearly wanted me, so what was the hold up? His eyes were intent on mine, looking for something.

  Ah.

  “Not backing up because I’m afraid, baby.” I winked, throwing a glance at the tree behind me. Though, okay, I did experience a moment of panic about the possibility of another misfire and Cuntessa once more being reduced to a charred nubbin. I wasn’t sure her and I could get past it happening twice.

  But where Rohan was concerned? No, I’d backed up to get some much needed distance at the lust triggered by the look on his face. My need for him had reached supernova levels. The potential big bang worth any risk. I licked my lips, crooking a finger at him. “Do you need an engraved invitation, Snowflake?”

  “Fuck,” he ground out, prowling toward me.

  My toes curled at the hot look in his eyes that dipped and lingered on the hollow of my neck, only to be replaced by his lips there as he gathered my hair in his fist and tugged it to one side.

  His tongue, hot on my cool skin, swirled in tempo with the beats of my heart, now hammering Indy-car fast under the onslaught of his mouth on my collarbone. “Sugar,” he murmured.

  “Body scrub.” I tilted my neck to give him better access, but with a sharp jerk, Rohan spun me around, pressing me against the rough bark. He slammed my hands over my head, gripping them lightly but firmly in one hand. I scrabbled for a hold, my eyes falling on the words “Party like it’s 1999” scratched into the trunk, just past the tip of my nose. Rain cascaded down around us like a steamy waterfall, but the leaves made a dry, cozy bubble above us.

  Rohan raked his nails up my spine.

  I shivered, totally in thrall as he pressed the length of his body against me. Trapped between the tree and him–a near-stranger, and dangerous at that–heat spread like wildfire deep in my core. Flamed high. The unpredictability of it brought out an interesting little kink I had, though it wasn’t a case of any guy would do.

  My head fell back against his chest and my breathing deepened. A slow legato. How could it sound so languid when my entire being was coiled tight in a dark smolder?

  The traffic quieted. We’d hit a lull at this time of night before the bars emptied out, but in this deserted downtown park with a silent city around us, it was easy to believe we were the only two alive.

  I closed my eyes, all the better to lose myself to sensation. The scrape of bark against my cheek, his breath gusting my neck, the rough tip of his finger skimming the thin fabric along my hip. Every nerve ending flared to life under his touch. Sweat pooled between my trembling thighs.

  Rohan blew a lock of my hair off my neck, ducking his head to nip at my ear.

  I twisted my head around, my breath punched out of me at his eyes sparking darkly with need. I tilted my hips back, pressing into his hard-on to get some form of contact.

  He hissed, jerking his body away from me.

  I arched back, trying to follow him but he kept me in place with a palm between my shoulder blades. My newly-released hands fell limp at my sides. At least now I could touch him, too.

  I reached behind Rohan to curve my hand around his hip as he wormed my skirt up from behind to slide his hand between my legs. He gave a satisfied chuckle at how wet I already was. I didn’t care. Smirk away, just keep stroking. I closed my thighs around his hand, rocking my hips back and forth.

  Rohan moaned into my ear and my belly fluttered.

  “Tell me what you want.” The rough rasp of his voice scraped over my too-tight skin, kicking my torment up into new stratospheres.

  Cuntessa de Spluge swooned. I imagined her screaming like a teenybopper. With my hands still behind me, I roughly caressed his ass. “You. Now.”

  “That can be arranged.”

  A whisper of wind hit high on my thigh as my bikini briefs floated to the ground in a scrap of lace. Fuck me, he’d cut them off with one of his finger blades. My knees wobbled. Cool air cascaded over my very flushed nether regions.

  Rohan knocked his knee between my legs, nudging them wider. Then he crooked a bladeless finger inside me, rotating it as he thrust it in and out.

  I rose onto tiptoes, my stilettos not providing enough height on their own to let him hit my sweet spot deep inside. My legs shook and my feet barely touched the ground. Every cell hummed in greedy delight.

  “Rohan.” The gasp of his name was almost a plea. I was coming undone in his hands.

  “Say my name like that again.” His voice was hard. Not a problem, since his name was the only thing I was capable of saying right now. I complied.

  He swore and leaned away from me. I was about to voice a complaint but then a rip of foil cut through the silence.

  “What a Boy Scout,” I teased. It came out a bit needier than I’d intended.

  “Always prepared,” he agreed.

  I wished I was facing him to see him roll the sheath over his cock, to see him touching himself, hard and ready and knowing that at least right now, I was the one who’d inspired that reaction, but Rohan kept me in place.

  He pushed into me from behind with a hard thrust that stole the breath from my lungs.

  Arching back to rest against the hard planes of his chest, I opened my legs wider.

  “Is this what you want?” he growled. “Rough and messy where anyone could see us?”

  A bolt of lust ripped through me at the image. I grinned over my shoulder at him.

  Rohan pulled out long enough to spin me around to face him. The smirk on his face was at odds with his frosty gaze. He gripped my upper arms, once more slamming inside me. I trailed my finger along the hard plane of his stomach. His abs clenched under my touch, resulting in so many delicious contoured ripples that I did it again.

  Every thrust knocked me back into the tree, the pitted bark shredding my poor dress and scratching my skin. “Harder.”

  Rohan’s jaw tensed at my command, holding himself in check. He emanated pure, brutal energy, and he was seriously and obviously pissed off.

  I caressed his cheek, but he jerked his head to fling my hand off. I shrugged off my unreasonable sting of hurt. I’d set the rules. “No one is forcing you to play with the unclean, Snowflake.”

  “No, that’s on me,” he snarled, slowing, teasingly pulling out before thrusting once more inside me. Unleashing himself on me. There was no other way to describe it. He was without an ounce of mercy.

  If this was supposed to be some kind of punishment, then I’d happily take double helpings.

  Rohan threaded his fingers with mine, using his blades to anchor our two hands to the trunk. An interlacing of dusky brown and pale white skin. He rose up onto his toes, his fucking changing angle and gaining force. The expression on his face was primal.

  I clutched at his shirt with my free hand so I didn’t try something stupid like tenderly stroke away his anger. These intense coils rippling inside were a new feeling for me. I hooked a leg around his waist, rocking mindlessly against him. My entire body arched in unfettered pleasure.

  My hand snuck down to give some love to Cuntessa but he swatted that away too, replacing it with one very capable finger. Go power plays. I happily let him take charge.

  My grip on him tightened. I’d have closed my eyes but there was a dare in the hard line of his jaw and in the glint of his eyes that had me hold his gaze in challenge. This wasn’t slow and it wasn’t gentle. Our fuck was a hard storm. An all-consuming vortex. My hair tangled in sweaty strands; my dress rode higher and higher up my hips. I had to force air into my lungs.

  Still I couldn’t get enough.

  It had been a while since I’d orgasmed from men I’d slept with. Those c
ollege guys with their misguided mood music and fumbling chivalrous “No, you come first” that became an obligation I faked my way out of. Mild levels of happy tingle generally constituted a win for me. But here? In this park, with this arrogant boy and his waves of unbridled hostility?

  I bucked violently, coming harder than I ever had. Shattering and uncertain that I’d ever be put back together properly again.

  The irony? His stunned look and the fierceness of his convulsion made me think he’d experienced the same thing.

  The girl with the lightning eyes and the boy with demons in his soul.

  Shivers burst across my skin like a mirror shuddering into a thousand pieces. Everything went dark and silent and then the hum of the city rushed back into stereo surround, snapping the bubble of us. Just as I realized I’d fallen against him, one of his arms holding me up and holding me close like the gentlest band of steel, he pulled out. I almost pitched forward at the lack of contact.

  Rohan stepped away to strip off the condom and tuck himself back into his pants. He was mere feet away but might as well have been miles.

  I tugged down my dress with a wriggle, stuffing the remnants of my underwear into the trash, and struggling to understand how something so tawdry felt anything but.

  Disoriented, fluttery, I didn’t know if my dizziness stemmed from euphoria or something else I couldn’t name. I pinched my cheeks, grateful for the biting pain.

  We straightened out our clothes, both so careful not to look at each other. Generally, I was a pro at the après. At bantery fun time that took any weirdness out of the situation and made it clear that I had no expectations. But this? This was awkward beyond all salvaging.

  I tried to take a deep breath but I swear my lungs had filled with cold water and it came out as a stuttery hitch. In theory I’d just experienced my dream encounter. So how come I wanted to puke?