The Unlikeable Demon Hunter Collection: Books 1-3 (Nava Katz Box Set)

by Deborah Wilde

  I spotted Drio as promised, hanging with Samson’s inner circle. There was actually a largish group with him here in Prague, but Drio had targeted two specific dudes as being the closest to King. Hangers-on, not fellow actors. Too bad. The skinny jittery one in the baggy jeans could have found steady work as a toady hustler in Hard Knock Strife. I wondered if he was coked up. His buddy, busy texting, was a straight-up hearts and skulls wearing douchebag with his head buzzed in wavy lines. Sexual predator as higher aspiration.

  Drio’s eyes widened a fraction but he didn’t glare at my deviation from the plan. Instead he looked at Rohan and Samson, his expression thoughtful.

  I clicked across the floor, rating a disapproving frown from the buttoned-up desk clerk before he smoothed it into a bland courteous smile as I placed a hand on Rohan’s shoulder to let him know I’d arrived.

  “Samson,” Rohan said, “this is–” He turned toward me for the first time, and I fought hard to keep my bored look in the face of his stunned expression.

  “Lolita,” I supplied. My voice matched my vibe. Sulky and unimpressed.

  Samson scanned my body like a barcode. “Samson King.” His attitude was all, “yeah, it’s me, be thrilled.” Seems I didn’t merit the famous charm. Yet.

  Sorry to disappoint, asshole. I flicked my gaze away, checking out the lobby as if looking for someone more interesting.

  Samson’s eyes narrowed.

  Rohan’s hand curled around my hip. “Lolita,” he admonished. It may have come off as him getting me to be polite in the face of this amazing superstar but the growled warning had nothing to do with etiquette.

  With a huff, I propped my chin on Rohan’s shoulder, half-twisted toward him, but meeting Samson’s eyes. Then I raised an eyebrow as if waiting for the star to impress me.

  Samson tilted his head and smiled. The look that had landed him People magazine’s “Sexiest Man Alive” cover. Ugh.

  Moving away from Rohan, I raked a hand through my curls, the motion causing my shirt to fall open that much more. Samson obligingly looked.

  I trailed my fingers down Rohan’s arm. Ignoring Samson. “You done?”

  “Text me later,” Rohan told Samson. “We’ll figure out a set visit.”

  “For sure.” Samson jerked his chin at me. “Bring her.”

  I squeezed Rohan’s wrist, willing him to pick up on that cue and go into caveman mode.

  “She’s busy.” He placed his hand on the small of my back, escorting me off.

  Samson stepped sideways, blocking us. Speaking directly to me. “Want to come?”

  I shrugged. “Been there. Done that.” He could infer the type of set–blockbuster, porn.

  “Not like this. Come watch the big chase sequence.”

  “Stand around and watch your stunt guys?”

  Samson puffed up. “I do my own stunts.” Said with a touch of annoyance since this was well-documented fact.

  I let a flicker of interest leach into my gaze, my turn now to run a slow total perusal of him, while I pursed my lips, like I was considering his offer. “That could be fun.” I stepped away from Rohan as I spoke.

  Rohan tugged me back into place beside him, his hand hot on my arm. “We’ll see.”

  “You do that,” Samson said, not breaking eye contact with Rohan.

  Sweet. The challenge was on.

  One of Samson’s friends called over to him and the pissing contest was broken. “Namaste, bitches.” A cheeky grin and one more appraising look for me, then he swaggered off.

  “Demonstrating a stellar mastery of Eastern teachings, that one,” I said.

  Rohan planted himself in front of me. “You’re pretty pleased with yourself, aren’t you?”

  “Yup.”

  “If you can’t follow directions, then you’re on the next flight home.”

  I curled my fingers into his belt loops, so no one could tell how deep my nails gauged my palms. “Samson’s watching us,” I murmured, pouting. “Also, your directions sucked balls. Samson wasn’t going to give a shit about a pale imitation nobody of every chick he’d ever bagged.”

  Rohan nuzzled my ear, his nip hard enough to make me wince. “You should have run it past me.”

  I leaned in, my hands between our chests, calling my magic up enough so he could feel it thrumming through his shirt, though it wasn’t visible to anyone else. “You and Drio wouldn’t have listened. You were too busy casting a Whitesnake video.”

  “Push me one more time.” Rohan ran a finger over my lips.

  “You wouldn’t.”

  He raised an eyebrow, leaning in until his mouth almost brushed mine.

  I stuttered out a breath, stunned into a shocked freeze at his dirty tactics.

  “Get a room,” Drio called out. I almost did a double take at his perfect American accent. He sounded like any generic TV or film actor. His group burst into raucous laughter, then Samson snapped his fingers, pointing off toward the lounge on the far side of the lobby. They all obediently trotted after him.

  Keeping my relief under wraps, I switched off my power and stepped back. “My tactic worked. I was right.”

  “You were lucky.”

  “It wasn’t luck. I deconstructed that asswipe.” I rubbed a hand over my neck. “Trust has to go two ways here, Snowflake. I’m trying to work smart, not hard.”

  Rohan jabbed a finger at me. “No more going off script. That’s a direct order. I won’t have you wreck everything Drio and I have done to date.”

  “Minion. Got it.” I patted his cheek. “But do remember that I snagged his interest and keep up the pretense of me belonging to you. He wants what he can’t have.”

  “The chase is half the attraction,” he replied.

  “Then I’ll be sure to conduct a lively one.”

  Before I could hear his retort, a woman called out to him in a voice that was pure Southern California drawl. “Ro? Is that you?”

  He turned, his face lighting up as a supermodel launched herself into his arms. Not up to dealing with bitchy models wanting to play possession games over rock stars, I attempted to leave and give them their moment.

  Rohan made no move to stop me but the woman smiled at me with genuine friendliness. “Hi.”

  “Hello.” My greeting was a bit more wary. On closer inspection, she didn’t fit the supermodel bill. Sure, of East Indian heritage, she was luminous and gorgeous. But her large dark eyes and heart-shaped face were free of make-up, other than lip gloss. Pin-straight silky hair fell to her shoulders. The small rectangle-framed glasses she wore enhanced her beauty as did the loose trousers and cute embroidered coat on her slender frame, but they didn’t scream diva.

  Cheeks red from the cold, she nudged Rohan with an easy familiarity. “Introduce us, dummy. Maya taught you better.” Old family friend, perhaps? Family friends were good.

  Rohan slung an arm over her shoulder. Well, he couldn’t be rude to her if his mom might hear about it. “This is Dr. Lily Prasad. Lils, this is…” Rohan shifted from side-to-side, his voice flat. “Lolita.”

  “Doctor?” I did up a button on my shirt.

  “Almost doctor,” Lily corrected with a laugh. “I’m doing my doctoral dissertation right now. Finishing this summer.” She held up her crossed fingers.

  Rohan looked at her fondly. “Lily is a geophysicist studying electrostatics.” He grinned at her, his even white teeth flashing. “Did I get it right?”

  “Yeah. Only took you how many years? It’s a pleasure,” she said to me.

  “Likewise.” A geophysicist? Beauty and brains. A smart old family friend then? Like the nerdy girl Rohan had grown up feeling sorry for? I looked at her again. Who was I kidding? This girl had been born a swan.

  Still, I couldn’t believe how nice she was being to me, especially as it looked like my sole area of study was oral fixations. Now I really tried to get away but Rohan removed his arm from Lily to catch my wrist, keeping me trapped here in punishment.

  I stood there as they got caught u
p, with Lily excited to hear that he was singing again, trying to free myself from his grip, but it was like trying to pry loose the safety bar on the roller coaster. No one was getting off this ride until it was finished.

  Rohan asked Lily what she was doing here.

  She pushed her glasses up her nose. “The hotel I wanted to stay at was overbooked.”

  He shook his head, chuckling. “Always with the literal, Lils. I meant in Prague.”

  She blushed. “Shut up.”

  Was my smile still on my face? Reasonable facsimile. Close enough.

  “I’m attending an environmental physics conference,” she said.

  “What?” Oy vey! It was bad enough meeting this super smart woman under these conditions. If I ran into her at the conference while looking for Dr. Gelman, she might wonder what someone like me could possibly be doing there.

  Rohan and Lily turned identical looks of confusion on me.

  “I mean, what are you doing there? Giving a speech?”

  “I wish. No, I’m attending on behalf of my advisor.” Lily’s phone beeped. She pulled it out of her jacket. “I swear he’s the devil. I mention his name and there’s yet another email from him with more work for me.”

  I cut a sideways glance at Rohan. “I know how you feel.”

  He smiled sarcastically back at me.

  Lily checked the email, rolling her eyes at its contents. “Okay, like the dude is staggeringly brilliant.” I smothered a smile at how valley girl she sounded. “But he’s also either incredibly passive-aggressive or seriously losing it because he keeps sending me messages in his native French, which he knows I don’t speak.” She stabbed at the phone. “I had to bookmark Google translate.”

  “Don’t use that. It’s lingual soup,” I said.

  “It totally is, but it’s easily accessible.”

  I held out my free hand. “I can translate it for you.”

  Rohan released me to cross his arms. “You speak French.” He made it sound like the only phrase I could possibly know was “Voulez-vous couchez avec moi.”

  “I didn’t just hatch a pretty blank slate,” I snapped. “I was edumacated and everything.”

  Lily shot me an odd look, her phone held up but not yet handed over. Whoops. Maybe groupies didn’t mouth off to their idols? I couldn’t think of any way to salvage the moment so I smiled and took her phone. Translating the email was a piece of cake, just some follow up about a panel he wanted her to attend.

  I read the translation out to Lily, then handed her phone back.

  “You are a superstar, Lolita,” she said, already typing her response.

  I savored Rohan’s dumbfounded look. But it hurt too. “Twelve years of French Immersion, Snowflake,” I murmured. “Don’t stress yourself.”

  I’m still outclassed here.

  I made my excuses and left, beelining for the lounge and narrowly avoiding Samson and his gang leaving. Drio stood at the bar, paying.

  Draping myself over the smooth white bar top, I helped myself to a drinks menu.

  “A lemon radler.” I smiled at the scruffy bartender. Anyone about to serve me booze or poke me with a needle was deserving of smiles. Them being cute didn’t hurt either.

  Winking, he acknowledged my order.

  Drio scrunched up his face in disgust. “Way to ruin beer,” he said in his normal voice.

  “Way to get one of my fruit servings.” I watched the bartender flick the cap off. “What’s with the accent?” I asked Drio.

  “Just another good ’ol American boy,” he drawled. “Makes more sense I’d know Ro if I’m from the US.”

  The bartender reached under the bar.

  “Don’t worry about a glass.” I took the bottle, condensation dripping down its sides, savoring the first burst of fruity alcohol on my tongue.

  “Who’s that? She looks familiar,” Drio said, nodding over at Lily and Rohan still talking in the lobby.

  “Dr. Lily Prasad. Beautiful genius.”

  His face lit up with an interested gleam. I braced myself, expecting some comment on her body or stating that he wanted an introduction. “Lightning girl.”

  My beer hit the ground.

  6

  I jumped out of the way of the pooling liquid. “What?”

  Drio, staring over at her and nodding, was oblivious to my shock. “Yeah. Her glasses threw me. She studies lightning or some shit. A physicist, right?”

  “Geophysicist studying electrostatics,” I parroted. Lily was the one that Rohan had written “Toccata and Fugue” for? The original lightning girl? The love of his life? I bent down to pick up the bottle shards, cutting my palm on one fat piece. Holding my bleeding hand up, I grabbed the towel that the bartender had brought to sop up the mess. “Sorry,” I said.

  “Leave it. You need a Band-Aid.” The bartender jogged off.

  Drio, still checking Lily out, whistled. “She’s even better looking now.” With that, he left to catch up with Samson.

  I wrapped the towel around my hand. Sure, my Rasha healing would take care of this gash in a jiffy but I liked the tourniquet sensation this gave me. A sharp focused pain. I willed myself to move since I couldn’t stand here by myself, emotionally exposed like this.

  My chest twisted in self-loathing as I caught sight of my reflection in the shiny mirror behind the bar. What had seemed so clever when dealing with Samson seemed so tawdry when compared to Lily.

  I forced my breaths to keep time with the steady gurgle of the coffee pot by the bar sink.

  The chatter of voices from the lobby washed over me, while the warm air from the register in the ceiling above me ruffled my hair.

  I wished I could turn back time. Erase that night in the park with Rohan singing a song neither of us wanted to hear. Maybe without it, our fuck buddy status would have stayed easy and fun. And why force me to witness his reunion with Lily? Some sort of payback for going off-book?

  The bartender peeled the towel away, tossing it into the sink behind the bar. He caught my wounded hand, turning it palm up. Although the bleeding had stopped, he pressed the fat, square Band-Aid in place with a feather-light touch. “Are you sure you’re fine?” He continued to hold my hand, a smile in his eyes.

  I smiled back, my facial muscles on autopilot while my brain stuttered on Lily being lightning girl.

  “She’s good.”

  The bartender dropped my hand at Rohan’s growl. He gave us a long assessing look, then shrugged. “Just checking.” He disappeared into the back depths of the lounge.

  I sorted through and discarded a million comments as Rohan stood there taking up far too much room and more than his fair share of oxygen. “Problem?”

  He arched an eyebrow. “You tell me.”

  I ripped off the Band-Aid, tossing it in the trash. The wound would be fully healed in another minute. “Did I miss the memo where I wasn’t supposed to talk to other men?”

  “You’re my groupie first.”

  That was technically true but to say it here? Now? I expected being made to feel second-best from my parents and from the Brotherhood, both of whom wanted, at least at some point, Ari as the bright shiny twin. No problem. I agreed with them. I was happy to be in his shadow, especially if it took the focus off my own path as Rasha.

  But right now, second-best would have been a status upgrade because in the past fifteen minutes, Rohan had succeeded in making me feel like nothing.

  No guy was allowed to do that to me.

  Looping my fingers into his belt, I jerked his hips to mine. Rohan’s breath caught and when I brushed my lips over the shell curves of his ear, his whole body went tense. “Prove you’re worth it, baby.” Then I pushed him away, stalking off without a look back, mostly sure that he followed.

  The second we got inside the empty elevator, Rohan shoved me up against the wall. I groped for the third floor button, leaning into him. He ran his hands feverishly over my body, hot tingles shivering through my breasts like a sexed-up call and answer. The focused hun
ger in his expression had me craving more, except my rapid breathing wasn’t all from arousal.

  Given the barely banked rage evident in the tense bunch of Rohan’s shoulders, the feeling was mutual. Hopefully, he’d show no mercy in orgasm form and not body count, though I couldn’t promise the same right now.

  I bit his earlobe, wanting to hurt him. Cuntessa de Spluge purred darkly.

  Rohan shot me a cavalier smile in response. Holy fuck. My knees buckled.

  The sprint to my room was a blur.

  The second the door slammed shut behind us, Rohan edged his face in close to mine, his palm ghosting my cheek in the barest caress that sent slivery shimmers tumbling through me.

  I raised my fingers to my mouth, not realizing what I’d done or that I ran them over my lips until Rohan tracked the movement, his eyes glittering dangerously.

  His tongue flicked out, wetting his lower lip. He swayed in toward me and–

  “No.” Taking his hands in mine, I forced them behind me. Forced him to hold me there, his rings biting into my skin. Forced him to make a decision; play by my rules or go.

  Alea iacta est. For better or for worse, the die was cast.

  The deep raw groan in the back of his throat was his acquiescence. He walked us over to the bed, the two of us stumbling across the carpet until the mattress hit the back of my legs.

  I smiled in triumph, pressing my lips against the soft hollow of his throat and suckling the sensitive skin. The press of his body against my front was positively nuclear, but the laugh track of a Czech TV program next door, audible through the thin walls, jarred me. “Next time install me in a better class of room,” I said.

  “Worried people will hear us?”

  “Only if you make me scream.” He’d released my hands, so I wormed them under his sweater, my fingers splayed against the hard ridges of his abs.

  “Like that’s not a given.”

  I laughed.

  “You doubt me?” His hand tangled in my hair and he tilted my head to nip my collarbone. He made a low sound that thrummed through him.