Exasperating.
Exhilarating.
It would have been so much easier if all I felt for Rohan was sexual attraction, but I respected his intellect and abilities. He made me laugh and he pushed me to grow. I’d been challenged as a dancer but never to find my full potential overall.
Halfway through “Pumped Up Kicks,” I waved my hands for mercy.
“Noooo,” he wailed. “Don’t stop. You’re amazing.”
I blushed and wiped my forehead with the hem of my shirt. “I’m also dying.”
“One more.” He pressed his hands together in supplication. “Very slow. I promise.”
“One more.” I clapped my hands at the opening chords, instantly recognizing them. “‘Rainbow Connection.’ That was my favorite song as a kid.”
“Me too.” He adjusted the guitar. “Dance with me?”
My cheeks hit maximum blush under his steady scrutiny. “Yes.”
Rohan sang to me about the lovers and the dreamers, drinking in every step of my soft shoe, his voice wrapping around me. A current of recognition for a kindred soul arced between us. That whole not knowing where he stopped and I started? I’d had that with him during sex. That had been freaky enough since I’d never experienced it with anyone else. But the twining of his singing and my dancing was an intimacy I didn’t even know I could feel.
Or have.
Or want.
The final chord rang out, my drumming heels fading out along with it. In the charged silence I asked him the one thing he didn’t expect. “What happened in Pakistan?”
His harsh exhale reminded me of knives. Ironic since his superpower was turning himself into a human blade and his internal demons involved slashing himself with guilt over the death of his cousin and the person he’d become at the height of his fame. I thought I’d been helping him with those demons by getting him to return to his music, but this didn’t look like progress.
He gazed off, his features lapsing into blankness. “Does it matter?”
“I dunno,” I flopped onto the couch and untied my shoes, kicking them off, and wriggling my toes. “I’m trying to figure out what does.”
“To what end?”
“Does it matter?” I grabbed my tap shoes and headed upstairs.
Taking my second shower of the day, I scrubbed at my skin with the loofah hard enough that I emerged pink as a newborn. I’d brought a clean pair of pjs into the bathroom with me and I guess on some level I’d been expecting to find Rohan in my room when I came out because I wasn’t surprised to see him sitting on the edge of my bed.
I unscrewed the lid of my coconut oil, rubbing a dollop along my arms. “You need to talk to someone.”
He nodded, though whether in actual agreement or to placate me, I couldn’t tell, since from where I stood, only the back of his head and the tense line of his shoulders was visible.
I kept an eye on him as I moisturized. He didn’t relax. Not even by the time I’d returned the glass jar to my bathroom and brushed my teeth. This boy needed Prozac stat. But since I didn’t have that…
“Do you want to sleep here tonight?”
That startled him out of his trance. “What?”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself. Just sleep.” See Nava slide a bit farther down the slippery slope. “Ari used to crash in my room when he had nightmares as a kid. It helped.” Not that Rohan would be sleeping in a sleeping bag on the floor.
“No.” He swung himself off the bed, walking to the door with balled fists.
I rubbed my chin, my brows scrunching together. He liked sleeping next to me, so what…? Ah. “You’re not going to hurt me.”
He stopped in the doorway, his cool gaze tipped with gold. “You don’t know that.”
No. I didn’t. I busied myself retying the string in my waistband to refrain from touching the spot where he’d nicked my throat when I’d woken him from his nightmare. A frisson of fear danced down my spine, but I’d offered and I wasn’t going to renege. “Eh. What’s life without danger?” I folded back the covers and patted the bed.
An odd expression came over his face. Oh, no. Quit looking at me like I’m throwing you a lifeline. Now I wanted to renege for a whole other host of reasons.
I snapped off the overhead light and crawled into bed, feeling like I was stepping into wildly uncharted territory. Rohan was just as hesitant as he slid in next to me.
“Good-night, Snowflake.”
“Good-night.”
I stared up at the ceiling. Why did his presence make me feel both steadier and shakier? I inched my hand toward the heat he was generating, brushing his. He hooked our pinky fingers together.
I swallowed. Okay. I edged my body closer. He did too. Beyond that, neither of us moved. Neither of us instigated anything sexual and it was fine. Better than fine. When had he become my zone o’ contentment? I was so caught up in the implications of that terrifying thought that I almost missed what he said.
“The other Rasha.” Rohan’s eyes were fixed on the ceiling. “They died hunting yaksas demons. Do you know what those are?”
It was a fair question given I was playing catch up on twenty years of demon studies, but I’d actually studied this type. Fanged, horned, and nasty. That explained the bone fragment Rohan had. He must have broken it off one of the demons before he killed him. “Yeah.”
“The demons had been crossing the border into India from their base in Nepal and from there trekking to the Gilgit-Baltistan region in Pakistan. They were targeting Askuchar, which is this isolated village in the mountains.” He smiled. “Village is a flattering term. Less than two thousand people. Stone houses, half of them falling into rubble. But the air?” He gave a happy rumble. “The sweetest, freshest air I’ve ever breathed. And that view.” He swept a hand out, drawing the panorama for me. “Sharp white-peaked mountains tinged with blue. One of the most beautiful places I’ve ever seen.”
“It sounds gorgeous. But the demons weren’t coming for the scenery. What was the draw?”
“We never figured out why they were attracted to this particular place. Random choice, because of its isolation, or something else?” He punched his pillow with steady pounds as he spoke, beating all the puff out of it. “The demons were using it like their personal buffet. Coming back night after night feeding off these people and tossing aside any parts they didn’t feel like eating.”
My hand flew to my mouth. “Kids?”
“Everyone. The villagers were terrified.”
“But the Rasha stopped the demons, so why were you sent overseas?”
“Because one of the demons was a female and it was spring. That meant there were eggs somewhere. Those creatures mature fast, so my buddy Mahmud who’s usually based out of Kabul, asked me and another hunter Michel to come help track.”
“Did you find the eggs?”
“After a couple of weeks. They’d hatched but we got the babies before they were strong enough to be doing more than foraging small animals locally.”
“That put a stop to it, right?”
Another harsh laugh and lapse into silence. I’d lost him again and I really didn’t want to hear the reason why.
Practically holding my breath, I curled into him, resting my head on his shoulder. Stroking his arm in comfort.
Rohan released my hand. I tensed, but he slid his arm under me to pull me even closer. “All our books and databases and we’re still fumbling around with our heads up our asses so much of the time.” His hold on me tightened. “Fun new fact. Yaksas divide their eggs into two stashes before hiding them.”
“Shit,” I whispered.
“Yeah.” Rohan looked away. I was glad I couldn’t see the pain in his eyes.
“You don’t have to keep talking.”
“She says that now,” he muttered, but he angled his body in to mine, resting his chin on the top of my head. I wouldn’t have moved for all the money in the world, his heartbeat slow and steady under my cheek. “We got back to the village, expecting to
assure them all was well only to find it ravaged. Everyone–” His voice caught. “Everyone was dead.”
I tightened my grip on his shirt.
“The Brotherhood ordered us to burn every shred of their existence then cause a landslide to obliterate all trace of the village. Thwart any rescue effort.” He rubbed his forehead with his fist. “The smell. It was in my nose, my eyes.” His hands bunched and flexed on the edge of the blankets. “You haven’t faced Hell until you’ve put a baby’s corpse into flames.”
I was a Pantone expert in all the shades of Rohan’s gold eyes, but the hard darkness edging them now as they glittered against the shadowed plains of his face was new to me. I couldn’t imagine the horror and couldn’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t sound like a hollow cliché. Rohan’s extreme sense of responsibility resulted in a massive burden of guilt he placed on himself, fairly or not. I based this on the little he’d told me about his cousin Asha, and my first-hand experience of it when Samson had kidnapped Lily in Prague. If Rohan was tormenting himself because he’d failed those villagers? Let babies die? I’m amazed he wasn’t catatonic.
I kissed his T-shirt right over his heart.
He cleared his throat. “From a tactical standpoint, keeping the existence of demons secret, the order was logical, but it was issued so coldly. We may be Fallen Angels,” he said, referring to the Rashas’ self-appointed nickname, “but I’d have sworn we were on the side of light.”
“How did you end up in London if the Brotherhood didn’t send you?” I said. “No way would you have gone partying after that.”
Rohan pulled away, laying back against my mattress.
I splayed my hand out over his chest.
He folded his hand over mine. “Forrest wanted to meet in person in the studio with his notes for ‘Hard Knock Strife’ and he’s based out of London.”
“You finished the theme song.” I gave an excited bounce. I’d only ever heard a teaser and couldn’t wait to hear the whole thing. “But doing the song was part of the mission when we took down Samson, so why was Mandelbaum unhappy you’d gone?”
“It was only authorized while the mission was active. The Brotherhood wants me to get out of the rest of the contract obligations.”
“No!” I practically crushed Rohan, leaning on top of him so he could see how serious I was. “You can’t quit making music again.”
He touched his forehead to mine. “I won’t. Not after all your hard work to get me writing and singing again.”
“Damn straight.” I slid back down onto the pillow, my head next to his.
“As for going to Child’s Play? I hadn’t slept for days, replaying everything over and over again. Mahmud had handled a lot of bad shit in Afghanistan and he told me that sometimes the only jolt to the system strong enough to knock you out of the darkness was to immerse yourself in the most superficial candy-ass reality you could. The festival was surreal, that’s for sure.”
“Why didn’t you call anyone? Talk to your friends?” Maybe I wasn’t inner circle enough but he hadn’t called anyone. Not even Drio.
“I didn’t want to taint any of you.” He propped himself up on his elbows, his lashes falling across his cheeks as he slanted me a look. “Especially you.”
“Jesus, Ro.” What was I supposed to say in the face of that? Have the talk, the grown-up voice in my head insisted. Ask him why he regretted the kiss. I didn’t recognize that voice at first because, well. And no way. I tugged at my neckline assuring myself the room still contained oxygen.
He brushed a curl behind my ear. “The night you did E with Samson,” he said, “you called me ‘Ro’ for the first time. You haven’t done it again until now.”
I’d needed the emotional distance created by using his full name. Sure, I could call him Snowflake, but for some reason, shortening his name was an intimacy too far. “I guess I haven’t.”
“So it takes you on drugs or me sharing things that no one else knows for you to stop being formal with me?” He said it teasingly.
Sharing things that no one else knows? My throat closed up, a light sheen of sweat breaking out over my body. How much of a bitch would I be if I ran from my room? Would my bad karma at abandoning a friend in need be tempered by the fact that I was only fleeing in self-preservation?
Instead of my legs pumping cartoon-style, leaving a cloud of dust in my wake, I pulled him into a hug. My brain was so stunned at my body’s rogue impulse that I was left speechless.
Rohan tensed for a second when my arms came around him, then he relaxed against me.
Our hug went on and on until it stopped being clear who was comforting who. Staring into the shadowy corners of the room, listening to Rohan’s breathing slow into slumber, I spun a fantasy of falling asleep every night with this man. Of waking up to lazy lovemaking or laughter that made me snort.
Rohan Mitra was not the type to stick around and play house. Even taking the rock star angle out of it, his Rasha duties kept him globe hopping. Besides, what kind of house would it be with all our testosterone-laden roommates, like the Lost Boys on steroids? I wasn’t Wendy and had no desire to play the little woman. Even while dating Cole, my dance dreams had trumped visions of white picket fences. Now I had new heights of Rashadom to conquer. A Brotherhood to expose.
I stroked a hand through Rohan’s tousled hair and down his back, feeling the long line of his body totally languid as he slumbered against me, his breathing soft and measured. There were times that I looked over at Rohan, amazed at how deceptively relaxed he seemed. Almost insolently lazily, but he was always on high alert. Nothing got past him. In this moment, at least, he’d let down his guard, letting me see to his well-being.
I was so screwed.
18
Night tipped into the perfect stillness of pre-dawn. At some point my manic obsessing had quieted enough for me to fall asleep because I woke up in a pool of sunshine, feeling utterly content. Like multiple-orgasm content. I smiled drowsily and snuggled into my pillows, wrapping my foot around blankets and a familiar leg.
A familiar leg, wait.
I bolted up because the reason I was so calm and relaxed was simply from sleeping next to Rohan. I peered over the side of the mattress to see my beloved body pillow and usual recipient of my night-time snuggles on the floor, all bereft.
“And she’s up.” My pillow-substitute scratched the dark scruff under his jaw. That soft patch of skin I’d discovered the first time I’d licked my way across his body. A secret Rohan treasure.
I gripped the covers.
“Is this where you panic? Or insult me?”
“No,” I huffed.
He blinked up at me, amused, like a cat. If I could bottle warm, sleepy Rohan, I’d wear it as my new perfume.
My black panther stuffie Sebastian had rolled into the crook of Rohan’s neck. He patted the toy absently before moving Sebastian to sit on the pillow on his other side.
I wrenched my gaze away from the disgustingly cute sight and touched the skin under his eyes with my fingertip. “Thirty percent less bags, Snowflake. You slept?”
“Yeah.” His expression was pure amazement. He trained that golden stare on me with wonder and something that looked like expectation before he flicked it away, rubbing his palms over his goatee. “This itches.”
“Don’t you dare shave it.” I wanted it scraping over me again, its edge kicking up my pulse, making my skin buzz. I flapped a hand at him. “Or do what you want.”
Rohan shifted to pull his arm free, brushing his impressive erection against me.
My shiver turned to a groan.
He smirked, but didn’t make a second move. So this wasn’t going to be a repeat of what had happened after the cù-sith. How much was Cole’s arrival at the club a factor in all this?
I wasn’t stupid. I knew what it would take to get a replay and if I wasn’t ready to ask Rohan about the kiss, I wasn’t ready to give him one. Well, that was that. I brushed off my hands, then threw back the covers,
ready to get on with my day.
“Do you want to go out sometime?” I said. Rohan may have been shocked at those words issuing forth from my lips but I was dumbstruck. I quickly glanced around the room to confirm that yes, that had been me that had spoken.
His eyes flared bright, then dulled, a cautious expression crossing his face. “Like a date?”
I scrambled out of bed. “Do we have to label it? It’s food and conversation at an agreed upon time.”
I’d been possessed. That was the only explanation for this insanity spewing out of me. I made a mental note to perform some kind of ritual and find out.
Rohan grabbed me by my pj top and tumbled me back into his chest. “Buy me breakfast.”
Well, damn.
I jutted out my chin. “I can do that.”
He laughed, burying his face between my shoulder blades. “Only you could turn your own meal invitation into a to-the-death challenge.”
“Yes, well, I’m special.”
“Too easy.” He winked at me and left.
I dressed for my date in skinny jeans and a warm chocolate brown, cowl neck sweater that invited touching, Shakira’s “She Wolf” blasting out of my speakers. I’d forgiven her hugging Rohan. Dressed, groomed, and satisfied with the results, I swiped mascara over my lashes and headed downstairs.
Rohan was waiting for me in the foyer. He’d paired his bulky black sweater with black pants and not shaved the goatee. I rolled onto the outside edges of my feet, taking a moment from the safety of the hallway to watch him–the strong column of his throat as he tipped his head back and laughed at something he’d read on his phone, the steady strength he projected.
If we hadn’t been interrupted right after the kiss with his new marching orders, I’m mostly sure that I would have asked him what exactly his problem had been in regards to that lip-lock, but too much time had passed. Too much obsessing had occurred over what had gone down with Lily. There’d been too much hurt that yeah, I was his second choice. I could take on a hoard of demons but adult communication left me wanting to run away very fast.
The Unlikeable Demon Hunter: Need (Nava Katz Book 3) Page 20
