The Unlikeable Demon Hunter: Crave (Nava Katz Book 4)

by Deborah Wilde

  “We’re going to bring these fuckers down. Whatever you need. However I can help. I’m yours.”

  “Phrasing,” Rohan said, breaking the tension. “Jeez, Mahmud, don’t steal all the beautiful women in the restaurant. This one’s mine.”

  Mahmud winked at me. “I’m all yours,” he said. He picked up some sashimi without having to stab it onto his chopstick, then blinked at it, surprised. “All right then.”

  Mahmud didn’t have much other information to give us. He hadn’t known Ferdinand, but he had known a couple of the dead Rasha and swore there was nothing suspicious about them. He promised to follow up with their families in case there was anything to learn there.

  Rohan insisted on paying for the meal. We walked Mahmud outside and he signaled for a taxi.

  As the cab pulled up to the curb, Mahmud turned to Rohan. “There’s one person who might be able to tell you about Ferdinand. Same peer group and shit. Zahir.”

  Rohan gave him a searching look. “You sure?”

  Mahmud shrugged. “I wouldn’t name drop me, but yeah. Try him. Last I heard he was based in Paris.” Mahmud opened the back door to the cab, then kissed my hand. “Delightful Nava, I look forward to our next meeting.”

  “You charmer.” I grinned at him. “Thanks, Mahmud. Really.”

  He rolled his shoulders like it was nothing. “I always believed that being Rasha meant having each other’s backs.” Something flickered over his face and he raised his troubled eyes to Rohan’s. “I just didn’t expect the enemy to be so close to home.”

  Rohan couldn’t stop stealing touches all the way home.

  At a stoplight, he’d sneak his hand from the clutch to just barely on my knee. At a crosswalk, he’d ghost it up. And up, and up. As the sun set and turned the glass condo towers gold, his nimble fingers edged around the line of my underwear. When we only barely missed a very angry old lady crossing a residential street, I decided that vehicular manslaughter via horny boyfriend was not, in fact, something I needed to experience.

  “Who’s Zahir?” I said, smoothing my dress back to a pristine sleekness.

  “Mahmud’s dad. They haven’t spoken in about five or six years, but he’s Rasha too. In his fifties and still kicking around.” Fifties was old age in our line of work. It was too depressing to contemplate.

  Ro glided his hand along the base of my bare spine.

  I twisted away from his touch, but the persistent boy failed to take the hint and leaned into me while still driving, so I scooted closer to him, prioritizing our collective safety. Also, I was weak and wanted those fizzy shivers as he stroked my skin. “You think he’ll have any insights into Ferdinand’s death?”

  Rohan stopped the car at Demon Club’s front iron gate, set into a stone fence, to be scanned. He leaned across the gearshift and, cradling my head between his hands, took my mouth with the force of tossing gas on a fire. I grabbed his shirt and pulled him to me, feverishly kissing him. Ro bit my bottom lip and I moaned. He grinned against my mouth. “I like how we fit together.”

  Dizzy, I clutched at him but only got empty air as he gunned the car up the drive.

  “You were saying?” he said with a smug grin.

  I was? His smugness amplified. I couldn’t let that stand so I racked my brain and eventually found where I’d left off. “If Ferdinand had been killed on a mission, I wouldn’t have thought twice about it. But a car crash? I don’t like the timing or coincidence of it.” I had personal experience with the Brotherhood masking suspicious deaths with car crashes à la Samson King in Prague.

  Rohan parked, cut the engine, and turned to me, his eyes hot. “Know what else I don’t like?”

  I licked my lips, remembered that wasn’t an answer and shook my head.

  “Making me sit through dinner, watching you in that dress. Cruel.”

  “You’ve been copping feels all the way home.”

  “It’s not enough.”

  I snickered, but when he slammed his precious car’s door in his haste to get me inside, I may have set a new record for speed-walking in heels.

  We barely made it into his bedroom before, mouth on mine, he pressed me back against the wall. His teeth dragged over my lower lip before his tongue slipped inside. He trailed his finger blades over my shoulder and bare back, just enough to leave faint marks that I’d shiver staring at in the bathroom mirror later.

  Sliding my hand under his shirt, I skimmed my fingers along the ridges of his sculpted abs. He retracted his blades and I broke the kiss to draw his fingers into my mouth, my tongue swirling around each one in turn. Pinching his nipples with my other hand, I rubbed my bare thigh up his leg. His sigh rumbled over me.

  A furious ache built to a throbbing pulse inside me.

  Rohan sucked on my neck and I tilted my head to give him better access to the sensitive skin. He caressed my cheek with the back of his hand, pinning me with this filthy eye-fuck that made my stomach flutter. “Wrap your legs around me.”

  The position left Cuntessa flush against his hard cock, my dress hiked up around my waist. I thrust against him with a blissful moan, pushed my fingers into his hair, raking back his dark wavy locks, and slanted my mouth over his. His answering kiss was hot, hungry, and knifed straight into my soul.

  I rocked my hips, my head thrown back against the wall.

  “Slow down, sweetheart.” Rohan ran his fingers idly along my spine, his touch sizzling against my bare skin. “On your knees.” His voice was low and dirty.

  I played with the soft dusting of hair on his chest. “You want something?”

  “Yes,” he growled. “You. On your knees.”

  “Whatever would I do there?”

  Rohan’s eyes were a gold haze, his “please” strained.

  I ran my hand over him, feeling his cock jump. “If we ever break up, you’re going to have a bitch of a time explaining to your new girlfriend that you have to come see me for blowjobs.”

  “Only you,” he murmured.

  My cold, dead heart grew two sizes larger. “You sure you deserve it?”

  He gripped me by my waist. “I’m desperate for you.”

  This gorgeous, wonderful man, with his pants half off his hips and a piratical smile playing on his lips, was hard and wrecked. For me.

  I slid off him, dropping to the ground and taking his trousers and boxers along for the ride. The planks were cool under my knees and Rohan was hot silk in my mouth. My lips buzzed with magic. I ran my tongue down his shaft, sucking his balls into my mouth, inhaling the sharp smell of his arousal.

  He gave a content hum, but he didn’t stop touching me: fondling my breasts, curling my locks around his fingers, running his hands over my shoulders with soft exhales and low groans.

  I teased his dick between my lips, slowly taking him in, curling my tongue around the head. Grabbing him by his ass, I pulled him close, taking his cock deeper.

  His hips started rocking, his fingers biting into my shoulders. His back arched off the wall. Salty pre-cum hit my tongue.

  My nipples puckered and grew achingly hard. Cuntessa was dripping wet and demanding attention. I moaned and Rohan pulled free with a soft pop. “What?” I said. “I was deep-throating like a champ.”

  There was enough moonlight to make out the amusement in his eyes, even through his fringe of thick dark lashes. “Not complaining, Sparky, but this party was about to be over before it started.”

  “Allow me to help you put on the brakes.” I stood up, grasping the hem of my dress to pull it off but he stopped me, brushing my hands away.

  Rohan inched the dress up me, feasting on every newly exposed inch, his gaze almost reverential. “Sometimes I can’t believe we’re finally here.”

  “Me too.” It seemed too good to last, my dress bunched in Rohan’s hands as he clutched my hips, my curls brushing his chest, and my head bowed close enough to his heart to hear its staccato rhythm. It was fragile and intense and perfect.

  And for the moment, it was mine.


  He kissed the pulse fluttering under my jaw, still working the dress off in the world’s slowest striptease, until he had to release me to pull the fabric over my head. He dipped his head, assessing me through heavily fringed lashes. “On the bed.”

  I scrambled to do as I was told, on my back, leaning against my elbows, my legs falling open.

  He stood over me, still erect. I felt the weight of his hooded gaze like it was the rough glide of his tongue along my curves. He sucked on his lush lower lip.

  My heart was in my throat waiting for him to touch me.

  He ran a hand up my thigh, tracing the path with his lips. Ro hadn’t shaved in a few days, and his stubble chafed the tender skin on my inner thighs. He ran his tongue under my bikini underwear. So near and yet so far. I wriggled out of them, pitching them across the room into the shadows.

  He flicked his tongue to my clit.

  My breath caught. I curled my fingers into his locks. “More.”

  He did it again, a million tiny licks that set me aflame but did nothing to quench the clenching grip of desire. I canted my hips.

  Pinning my knees in place, Rohan set his head between my legs.

  I teased my nipples, increasing the pressure of my pinches.

  “Fuck.” Rohan groaned, his mouth wet and glistening. He covered my hand with his, making me knead my own sensitive flesh. I writhed on the sheets and begged for more in an unintelligible jumble of sounds. “Like that, do you?”

  He slid a finger inside me and I moaned, that delicious familiar tension swelling and coursing through me. I tugged him up.

  “What?” he said, lust glazing his eyes. “I was eating you out like a champ.”

  I laughed and couldn’t help kissing him again, quick and hard. “Fuck me, Snowflake.” He reached for the drawer of his nightstand but I stopped him. “Ro. Can we…?” I licked my lips nervously. “I’m on the pill and I’m clean.”

  “I’m clean, too.” We’d both been tested by Dr. Sousa, the Rasha-approved doctor who’d dug a bullet out of my shoulder a while ago. Ro sat back on his calves, his hands resting on my legs. “Are you sure?”

  “I’ve never gone bare with anyone. Not even Cole.” I needed him to understand everything I was trusting him with. I swallowed thickly. “I don’t want anything between us.”

  Rohan brushed a strand of hair out of my face. “I don’t either.”

  He pressed me into the mattress, still sitting back on his calves. I cupped the nape of his neck, drawing him down to my mouth, bracketing his face in my hands. Our tongues tangled; the tip of Rohan’s cock pressed against me.

  Rohan remained between my legs, not yet entering me. Our bodies molded together, hands caressing, mouths insistent. We pulled back, our gazes caught.

  I caressed his cheek, his stubble tickling the pads of my fingers. “Hi, you.”

  Rohan gave me a wide-open smile, equal parts tenderness and soft vulnerability. “Hi, yourself.” Oh lordy. Heat rolled under my skin and my heart danced a furious tarantella. “Whatcha up to, sweetheart?”

  I skimmed my hands down his side and shrugged. “Hanging out.” I sucked the hollow of his neck and he hissed a groan. I wrapped my legs around his waist. “You?”

  “Making my girlfriend orgasm her brains out. Think it’s a plan?”

  I nodded. “A very sound one. So long as you enjoy yourself as well.”

  He rubbed his nose against mine. “Thank you. I shall.”

  I waved a hand. “Proceed, good man.”

  Rohan glided his hand up my calf. “I’ve never gone bare with anyone before.”

  My chest swelled with happiness at being his first this way and I couldn’t keep the smile from my face.

  Rohan brushed the sweetest kiss on my lips and plunged inside me.

  I arched into his touch with a sigh, my eyes drifting to his. “I didn’t know it could feel like this.”

  “Me neither.” Ro’s eyes gleamed in the darkness, a million shades of gold from the purity of flickering flame to the darker edge of the final intense burst of sunset.

  A bead of sweat trickled down my chest to my stomach, his body pressing mine into the mattress. We were wrapped in the tangle of our heat, his heart racing, pulsing against my rib cage. I tightened my legs around him, wanting to keep us here forever, savoring this new experience of being so intimately joined.

  “Can I move now?” he asked.

  “Oh my God, yes, already.” I thrust against him.

  I gripped his clenched biceps as he propped himself up over me, thrusting with a slow roll of his hips. His heart tattoo on his left bicep peeked out between my splayed fingers.

  Rolling us over so that I was riding him, he gripped my hips, his thrusts harder, rawer. He fumbled in the drawer by the bed for the lube. A squirt later, he slid his finger into my ass.

  He rewarded my wanton moan with another finger. I’d never felt so full, so complete.

  “You good?” he asked.

  “Y-yeah.” I raked my nails down his chest, shivering every time I bottomed out. Having him inside me like this, took our lovemaking to a whole new realm. We were physically and emotionally as intertwined as two people could be. I couldn’t have handled this before now, and especially not with anyone else. But with Ro?

  I clasped his face in my hands and kissed him.

  “You’re my supernova.” Rohan curled up, dragging his lips over my belly, his scruff scratchy, and swirled his tongue into my navel.

  I giggled and pushed him back, leaning over to capture his lips again, my hair drifting down along the hard planes of his abs. “What about you? You want anything else?” My voice was breathy. I was drowning in the twin tempos of his fingers and cock.

  Rohan traced my swollen lips with his tongue. “Just you.”

  My orgasm raged through me, my back arching. A supernova swallowed me up and for a moment all I could do was let myself be consumed.

  Rohan’s expression was fierce. He drove into me, his entire body bucking, adding to my blissful aftershocks. With a hoarse cry, he came.

  I flopped onto the mattress and he rested his head on my chest. I stroked his hair. “That was… almost too much and not nearly enough.”

  “I know.” He pressed a gentle kiss to my hip. “I’ll get a towel,” he said, and slipped from the bed. The water in his bathroom ran for a moment and then Rohan cleaned us both up with a cool, damp cloth. He’d even brought a dry facecloth to cover the wet spot.

  The covers rustled as he got back under, gathering me close against him. When he high-fived me with a dead-ass solemn expression, I laughed until my stomach was sore.

  I fell asleep in a spill of moonlight and a warm arm around my shoulders. And despite my best efforts, the last thing flickering through my mind was Rohan’s raspy voice playing over and over again:

  Just you.

  7

  The morning light was a soft filter, my body boneless and half-dozy. Our limbs were entangled with my head on Rohan’s chest and his stubble itchy against my forehead as we listened to rain pattering against the windows.

  I traced lazy circles on his abs and he hummed, content, in a voice thick with sleep. I craned my neck to see the tiny strip of gold beneath his half-closed lids. “Last night was amazing.”

  “Yeah.” Rohan tensed for the briefest second. My expression hardened. “Cool down. It’s not morning after freak out. It’s fine.” He scratched his jaw. “I’d just better… shave.”

  He was staring at my chin which, come to think of it, stung. I darted out of bed to his mirror and let out a wail. “What have you done to me?” The skin along my jaw was rubbed raw, like I’d spent the night cuddled up with a sandpaper pillow.

  Rohan sat up, the sheet pooling at his hips. “This is not all on me.”

  I touched my chafed red skin. Whimpered.

  He grinned at me. “Want me to kiss it better?”

  I opened his bathroom door. “No. I want you to never kiss me ag–”

  The door slammed shut,
Rohan bracing his hand against it. “Say you don’t mean that.”

  “Obviously,” I grumbled.

  He kissed the tip of my nose. “I’ll shave.” He bent down to retrieve the turquoise shirt he’d worn last night, but I snatched it away from him and put it on. If our relationship had escalated to physical wounds, then I got to wear his clothing.

  I inhaled, letting his scent seep into mine. The fabric was soft and contoured nicely to my body, hitting mid-thigh. “Keeping this,” I said.

  He gave a resigned nod and stepped past me into the bathroom. Only when I heard the shower go on, did I remember what day it was.

  I pounded on the bathroom door to get my “Happy Birthday,” but Rohan was singing under the spray and didn’t hear me, even when I jiggled the knob two or seven times. I searched the bed, but there was no gift hidden under my pillow. Hanging off the mattress to check underneath only gave me a crick in my neck, raiding his drawers yielded nothing more interesting than the fact he folded his underwear, which was old news, and rifling through his closet was a bust unless you counted the lint-covered roll of butterscotch candy the sneak had hidden in his leather jacket. It was like expecting a trip exploring the coral reefs and instead getting the toilet he’d flushed his goldfish down when he was nine.

  I still took the candy with me, unclenching my chokehold on the closet doorknob. This was the boyfriend who had taken Lily to Paris for dessert. He’d sure as shit remembered her birthday. Between the two apps and the back up paper reminder, he knew what today was. Was forgetting an honest mistake having just woken up, or a sign that I was once more with someone who was going to throw me under the bus emotionally and walk away?

  As I gathered up last night’s clothes, my phone tumbled out of my pocket onto the floor. There was a notification with my new word of the day.

  Insouciance. Noun. An uncaring attitude, lack of interest.

  I stuffed it into the middle of my clothing bundle. Rohan had probably gotten up early, and made me a fancy breakfast where he would gift me with the most amazing present ever, after he crawled back under the covers and pretended to wake up next to me.