Ari and I groaned in tandem, shifting.
“Demon,” my brother said. “Not our faults.”
I certainly hoped so, because if we weren’t being affected by some evil compulsion, our sibling relationship was about to get extremely awkward.
16
Our suspected demon lounged on a sofa, one arm stretched along the back, his legs splayed, owning his gunmetal black suit that had to cost a small fortune. His black hair was styled in a Caesar cut. Ninety-nine percent of all men with that cut could not pull it off. This man was absolutely the one percent.
I ran my eyes over every inch of him in thorough investigation. Giving my all to this job. Tugging on my red halter top to straighten it, I sat down on the high bar stools we’d commandeered to better scope him out. “Hello, billionaire BDSM romance cover.”
“He could tie me up,” Ari said.
My brother was a switch? I desperately looked around for a drink to magically appear, though if alcohol got Ari dishing facts like this, he was cut off. “Over-sharing between us only goes the other way, bro. Don’t fuck with a perfectly acceptable system.”
With his eager expression and black-and-white striped sweater, Daniel made an incongruous sight next to this other man. He was a kitten playing with a panther. A panther who reached out a hand to stroke the kitten’s cheek.
“They seem to know each other,” I said. “Which makes sense because of Mara.”
“Right.” Ari looked pained as he tore his eyes away from our target. “We need to keep Daniel away from the demon.”
“Good luck with that. Look at him. That boy is jonsing hard for a taste of tall, evil, and ride-me-hard.”
Ari shifted his stool a couple of inches to the left in order to see around the couple now blocking us. “Not like we can pull Daniel aside and warn him off. He wouldn’t believe us.”
“Even if he did, it might not matter,” I pointed out. “My many warnings to Leo about Drio have failed to douse her interest.”
Daniel pressed close to the other man.
“The libido wants what the libido wants,” I said.
Ari leaned back, head bobbing to the music. “Think Daniel was already under this guy’s thrall? I mean, Mara only died a few days ago. A bit fast to go clubbing, isn’t it?”
“No kidding. But we need proof.” I slid off the stool. “I am the best sister ever. I’ll handle Daniel. You sample Yummytimes and report back.”
I pasted on my brightest smile as I approached. “Daniel, right?” He looked up with the blatant scowl of someone not wanting company. I kept my attention on him and not the potential demon studying Ari and I with hooded eyes. “Alison, remember?” I said.
“Right.”
I dropped onto the seat next to him. “I’m glad to see you out. After Mara’s sudden passing.” I glanced at our target but he showed no reaction to her name.
“I had to get out of the house,” Daniel said.
I nodded. “Totally understandable.”
While I babbled on to Daniel, ignoring his crossed arms, frowning, and curt answers, Ari had moved in on the other guy. I was having trouble hearing both conversations over the music, but then Sexy placed a hand on Daniel’s shoulder, interrupting us.
“Excuse me.” I gripped the top of the sofa because, dear lord, he had a posh British accent. Could he get any more delectable? “We’re going for a drink.”
There was no invitation for Daniel to join them.
I raked an objective eye over my twin. Blond, buff, and owning the bad boy vibe. I wasn’t thrilled with his constant penchant for all-black these days but it suited him.
Daniel didn’t stand a chance.
Ari and the target left. Daniel tried to follow but I stopped him, clasping his hands and mouthing platitudes about how much Mara was missed at the clinic. I sent her a silent apology and hoped that wherever she was, she understood that this was for the greater good of saving her roommate’s ass.
I kept up my verbal barrage until Daniel extricated himself to join some other friends that had arrived. After ensuring to the best of my ability that they were human, I wove through the patrons, tossing off “excuse me,” as I circled the club searching for Ari. There was no sign of him or Sexy anywhere on this level.
Kane and Rohan were in the same back corner as the beginning of the evening, but there were a lot more glasses on their table now. Rohan sprawled in the chair. His slack posture changed as I approached; the intensity on his face made my skin tingle and he gazed at me like I needed devouring.
Eat me. Please and thank you. I pinched the inside of my arm. “We need to find Ari.”
Kane tossed a handful of peanuts into his mouth. “What’s the wayward twin up to now?”
“She’s standing right here,” Rohan joked.
“Yes, yes, you’re both hilarious. He’s with a potentially incubus-esque thing.”
“Incubi are hetero,” Rohan said.
“Hence the ‘esque,’” I replied. “We should find him.”
Kane rolled his eyes and stood up. “You think?”
After another check of the ground floor, we started up the stairs, Rohan’s fingers ghosting across the exposed skin on my lower back. I clutched the railing, focusing on the treads beneath my feet and not the whisper of contact along my sacrum. Rohan wasn’t drunk. Unlike the one time I’d seen him soused, there was no glittering edge to him tonight. He was just relaxed.
Oh, the things I could do with a pliant Rohan.
We found my brother upstairs, slumped over a table. “Ace!” I shook his shoulders.
He raised his head. “Crazy strong power. Conversation alone was…” He dropped his head back down. “I got Malik’s number.”
Malik was an Arabic name, which fit the pattern we were looking at, but right now we had a more pressing concern. “We need to go after him,” I said.
“Nope.”
I frowned. Kane and Rohan exchanged amused smiles.
Kane chucked my brother under the chin. “Need a moment there, sport?”
“Get lost,” he groaned.
“Oh my god,” I sputtered. “Will down the hard-on and move. We can’t let him get away.”
“Demon-induced erections. Got a good hour before it comes off crowbar status.” Kane jammed his hands in his pockets, rocking back on his heels. “What?” he said at my look. “Hunter. Shit happens.”
“Boys and their stupid genitals,” I said. “Fine. I’ll find him.”
“Buddy system.” Rohan grinned at me, placing his hand flat against my shoulder blades. His warmth sunk into me like a hot stone massage, unraveling me. I rued my choice of halter top which left so much of me exposed.
I wrenched myself out of touching range. “You’re… no. You?” I boffed my brother across the head. “Also no. Kane. You’re with me.”
“No way, babyslay.” He tugged on his waistband. “These pants don’t stretch.”
“Ugh.”
“The demon isn’t going to be able to hurt anyone for a few days,” Ari said, shifting with a wince. “I put ground labradorite in his drink.”
Kane clapped him on the shoulder. “Nice work.”
I shook my head, uncomprehending.
“It protects against ill will and negative energy,” Rohan explained. “By getting him to ingest it, Ari has bought a couple days of this Malik not being able to hurt anyone.”
“Didn’t know that, did you?” Ari asked in a smug voice.
Bastard. I hadn’t. “How’s your dick, brother dear?” Phrasing. I grimaced. “Retract that. Because we’re not Flowers in the Attic type of twins.”
The more the guys stared at me, Ari horrified, Kane incredulous, and Rohan shaking with silent laughter, the less control I seemed to have over my mouth. Or maybe it was the fourth G&T that I’d had.
“No sir,” I said, laughing heartily. “Only perfectly normal interactions in our family.”
“Can you please leave me alone?” Ari said.
“I mean o
ur mom used to make us share baths,” I rambled as Rohan ran his fingers along my hip, the flimsy material of my silver hip huggers an inconsequential barrier to his searing touch. “But that ended before Kindergarten. Though I did accidentally see his penis once when we were twelve but we were at a pool and–”
“Keep babbling,” Rohan said. “It’s stupidly cute.”
I snapped my mouth shut.
“And what?” Kane prompted. “We were just getting to the good part.”
“And I need a drink,” I said.
“Make mine a double,” Ari instructed.
“What do you want?” Kane’s hand slid up to the back of Ari’s neck.
Ari turned half-lidded eyes to Kane.
Now I needed two drinks. My vision of them together was Sweet Valley High not 50 Shades. Why couldn’t people stay in the boxes I put them?
“You’re paying,” I informed Rohan as we muscled our way to the bar. It was the least he could do.
I’d just put in my order when some guy in a flashy suit and overinflated ego offered to pay for my drink. I thanked him, refusing.
He wouldn’t take “no” for an answer. His buddies chimed in, intent on convincing me.
Rohan raised an eyebrow. He’d step in and help if I required it, but ignoring pushy men was a skill set most women sadly had to acquire at a young age. I shook my head, took my drink, and steered Snowflake away from the group, their slanderous comments growing meaner and louder as I left.
They weren’t worth any more energy.
I sank onto a sofa. “What a bunch of twats.” I sipped my icy G&T, fanning myself with one hand. It must have been ninety degrees in here.
Rohan took off his fedora, using it to fan me.
“What would you call a bunch of twats? A pride?” I asked.
He plopped the fedora on my head, a grin catching one corner of his mouth. “A murder?”
“A crash,” I countered.
“A fuck load.” He adjusted the hat to a more rakish angle, his grin crumpling into a naughty smile. His eyes met mine, easy and alight with amusement.
I leaned in–
“Avon.”
I jerked away from Rohan, breaking into a smile to hide my brain stuttering on Cole showing up now. Here. “Cole.”
Rohan’s lips flattened out. “That’s twice.”
Huh? “Hey, you. I thought I was supposed to call you. Later.”
Cole leaned over to kiss my cheek. “I was excited to see you.”
Rohan snorted.
“That’s sweet,” I said with a pointed look at Rohan.
Cole stuck his hand out. “Hey, sorry, man. I’m Cole.”
“Rohan.” He shook Cole’s hand. I tensed but there were no breaking of bones. So this didn’t bother Rohan?
Cole failed to recognize Rohan. To be fair, he’d never been a Fugue State Five fan and back then, Rohan had had platinum hair that fell into his face, eyes rung with eyeliner, and graphic vintage Ts. He was not that boy anymore.
Objectively there was no comparison between the two of them. Cole’s attractiveness caused hearts to beat 70% faster but Rohan’s sent them into cardiac arrest. Then again, Cole had broken my heart and I couldn’t help but dock his attractiveness factor for that. Though he got points because I’d loved him. Argh.
The two of them looked to me, like I should be furthering the conversation, making some kind of decision, or doing some action. Yes. Taking action.
I finished my drink.
Rohan clapped Cole on the back. “Good meeting you.” He left, getting about ten feet before some other chick stopped to talk to him.
Oh no, she didn’t.
Rohan placed his hand on the small of her back and led her away, his head bent close to hers to catch what she was saying. Lasering the crowd didn’t lead to X-ray vision and thus eyes on his activities.
Cole took my hand in his. “I’ve been thinking about you.”
This was where I twisted a curl around my finger, batted my eyes, and purred that I’d been thinking about him, too. I pulled on a chunk of hair with my free hand, blinked owlishly, and squeaked, “Okay.”
“Give me a second chance. Being with you is so–”
“Easy.”
He laughed, a puzzled frown between his brows. “That too, I guess. You said you wanted a do-over. Did you mean it?”
I’d only meant it in the context of that one night, but with our fingers intertwined and all of him focused so completely on me, I knew that part of me would always fit perfectly with him.
I squeezed his hand.
“Then give us another shot,” he said.
It didn’t matter that my brain was chanting “Bastard. Broke your heart. Stomp on his head.” Cole was letting this be my call and once upon a time, before dashed dreams and demon hunting, there had been a boy and a girl wrapped up in a shiny uncomplicated love.
Maybe there was still a sliver of that left.
The flash of a fedora caught my eye but it wasn’t Rohan.
Cole glanced in the direction I’d been looking but there was nothing to see. He leaned in toward me, his lids falling half-shut, pausing until I gave the tiniest nod, and kissed me.
His kiss melted like sugar on my lips. It was sweet and tender, his hand on the back of my head. It was Cole and it was me and I was floating. I wound my hands into his hair, tasting Tic Tacs, innocence, and lost love.
I broke the kiss.
“Did I convince you?” he asked with a cheeky grin.
“You devastated me.”
The grin disappeared. “I know.” He let out a slow steady breath. “Is that a no? Tell me the truth.”
“The truth is…” I hunt demons and am trying to blow open a patriarchal secret society and there’s this other guy who… I sighed. “… I’m not sure.”
“Fair enough. I’ll wait.”
Talk about things getting messy. I patted his knee and left. I didn’t see Rohan on my way out.
17
Leo didn’t answer any of the messages I left on the cab ride home.
Trying–and failing–not to read too much into it, I proceeded into my bedroom, changed into loose cut-off sweats and a faded T-shirt saying “tap dancing is my superpower,” grabbed my tap shoes, and headed into the basement. While most of the space down there was taken up by the Vault, I’d commandeered a little-used room as my own personal studio, setting up a small portable tap floor. Ms. Clara had procured me a plush sofa, a nicked up coffee table, and a docking station. I loved it.
The creaks and ticks of the old house settling were already as familiar to me after my short time living here as those at my parents’ place had been. I didn’t bother turning on the lights. There was enough moonlight to make my way downstairs without crashing into anything.
I slowed as I passed the thick iron door to the Vault, tempted to check on the gogota, but I decided to leave well enough alone. Up ahead a spill of light came from my little studio. As did the soft strains of an unfamiliar song. Hell no. Whoever was in there didn’t get to drive me out of the sole girl refuge in this place. I strode in to the room. “No boys allowed.”
“Yeah, well, some of the boys in your life are assholes.” Was that a Cole dig? Rohan sat on the sofa, hair mussed, wearing only a pair of gray pajama bottoms. He had a guitar slung across his lap, his bare foot perched on the edge of the coffee table. He hadn’t removed the polish and even more than his tight six-pack, it was the blue nails on those strong fingers strumming softly that made my insides all gooey.
Still holding my tap shoes, I clasped my hands behind my back. “Did you make a new friend at the club?”
He glanced up at me, still playing. “Did you make an old one?”
“I didn’t tell you to leave.”
“Not in words.”
He was right. I should have handled Cole’s arrival better. “Can we agree upon mutual horribleness and call a truce?”
“We can.”
I dropped my shoes on the ground.
>
His strumming stopped. “You came down here to dance?”
“Yeah.” A pencil and sheet music lay scattered in front of him. “Are you writing original music?” I craned my neck to see if it was the song for his mom but he flipped the page over.
“Mmm hmm. Should I leave?”
“You suck.” I sat down next to him and slid my tap shoes on.
“Can I watch?”
The way he asked sent a dark thrill coursing through me. “You’ll have to work for it.”
His lips quirked in a grin. “Yeah? What do I have to do?”
“Accompany me.” Ever since I’d started dancing again, I’d used his songs at least once a session. Having him here live? It was too good an opportunity to pass up.
Rohan rubbed his hamsa ring against his lip. “How do you want it? Fast or slow?”
“Fast.” I trailed my fingers along the top of his guitar. “Funky.” Along the back of his hand. “Freeing.”
Rohan’s eyes flashed. He steadied the guitar.
I moved into the middle of my tap floor and signaled him with a “bring it” flick of my fingers.
He launched into the song and I laughed. “‘Start Me Up.’ That’s not yours,” I said.
“You didn’t specify,” he chided.
“Negotiation failure. Shame on me.” I could work with this. I listened to the intro, deciding on a straight percussion to his melody. Dancing was bliss; I exalted in the vibrations from my metal taps rolling through my body and the fat sounds bouncing off the walls.
Listening to music, making music, being music. My body thrummed, my cheeks aching from grinning as I moved.
Rohan whistled at my one-footed wings, launching from The Stones into “Smells Like Teen Spirit.” From there it was a wild ride through “Paradise City” and “Seven Nation Army.” It was the weirdest playlist I’d ever improv’d to, but it was also really fun, forcing me outside my comfort zone. And how par for the course was that with him?
Our relationship, such as it was, was the antithesis that Cole’s and mine had been. It was exhausting.
The Unlikeable Demon Hunter: Need (Nava Katz Book 3) Page 19
