The Unlikeable Demon Hunter (Nava Katz #1)(14)

He held a finger up to his delectable lips to keep me quiet, circling me with lazy strides, checking me out.

I’d have been offended by the blatant appraisal except under his intense scrutiny, my clit, Cuntessa de Spluge lit up with an electric zing. I found myself stroking the aloe stalks in an obscene manner. Even knowing he couldn’t see my blush since I was in the shadows didn’t kill my utter mortification at jerking off plant life in not-so-subtextual yearning.

He stalked toward me, his leather jacket rustling with each step.

I held up a hand to stop him, the faintest electric crackle pulsing off my skin.

He didn’t stop, didn’t slow. In fact, he kept up his steady approach until his hand covered mine. My magic shocked us both at his touch. I gasped and shivered as pleasure, not pain, rumbled through me.

Hand still clasped in his, he stared at me suspiciously, instead of in fear, but had I wanted, I could have broken his hold. Not a demon, then? He fingered the thin silver necklace I wore with surprising gentleness, toying with the cute floral pendant dangling off it that read “I will kick you in the balls if I have to.”

“Should I be scared?” Given how he sounded like sex, sin, and salaciousness–the true definition of a triple threat–I decided that yes, he was most definitely a demon.

I met his mocking gaze, my rooted stance and beating heart placing me somewhere between morbid fascination and noping the fuck out at warp speed.

“Nava,” Ari called from the top of the stairs.

I jerked toward his voice. “Here.”

My intruder backed away, melting into the night. I might have followed had Ari not called for me again. Instead, I hurried into the kitchen to find Mom, Dad, Rabbi Abrams, and a tree trunk of a man, about ten years older than me, with shoulder-length black hair and sharp blue eyes sitting at the kitchen table. His hair, combined with the hemp bracelets around his wrist, made him look like a Special Ops surfer dude. The floral yellow espresso cup that my parents had picked up at some overpriced ceramics studio in Italy was like a toy in his huge hand.

A platter of mostly untouched Danish pastry sat in the middle of the table, though given the three on his plate, Rabbi Abrams was doing his best to plough through them. I sent the dessert a longing glance, but before I could reach for a pastry, Tree Trunk rose to his almost six and a half feet, cracked his neck that was bigger than my thigh, and lumbered toward me.

“Baruch Ya’ari,” Ari said in the most awestruck voice I’d ever heard him use.

I didn’t care if this Baruch guy was the second coming, I hid behind my brother. Ari tugged me out to face the scary stranger, pushing me forward into his path.

“Baruch is usually based at HQ in Jerusalem,” Rabbi Abrams piped up, chewing. “He–”

“Invented the Stinger,” Ari said. Wow. Fanboy a little more, bro.

“Ari is the chemistry student I told you about,” the rabbi said to Baruch.

My unflappable brother actually squeaked when he said that.

“But due to the… situation,” Rabbi Abrams continued, “it is Nava you will be training in fighting and weapons skills.”

How about showing some tact, old man? Couldn’t he see Ari’s shoulders slump? Though I perked up at hearing there were weapons. I looked down at the aloe in my hand. I could do weapons.

Baruch let his gaze roam slowly up my body like he was cataloging my every weakness and maybe taking my blood pressure.

I jutted my chin out.

Mom tapped her finger against her cup, her wedding ring clinking against the ceramic.

“No,” Tree Trunk barked when he’d finished his inspection. He spoke with that gravelly abruptness of many Israeli men.

I dropped the aloe on the counter. “No, what?” I didn’t recall hearing a question.

Baruch made a dismissive raspberry noise. “She is not Rasha material.”

Mom deflated. Dad put his arm around her and she leaned into him. WTF?

I didn’t have time to process them being upset on my behalf, because this was my shot. “You’re right. I’m not.” I shoved Ari at him. “But he is. He killed a demon tonight. Saved my life.”

Tree Trunk stilled. He zeroed in on my brother who scowled at me. I nodded virtuously. There was only room for one demon hunter in our family and it was going to be Ari.

“How?” Baruch asked.

Ari launched into an explanation.

Tree Trunk’s stoic demeanor loosened up enough to blink approvingly during Ari’s recounting of the lamp post and ankle sheath. I took it as him being impressed with my twin.

Even the rabbi beamed with pride. My parents were certainly happy. When Ari finished, my mother prodded the still silent Baruch. “Well?”

I crossed my fingers.

Baruch gave another infuriating raspberry. “He took down some bastard of Asmodeus’.”

“The demon of lust,” Ari murmured at my questioning glance. “Major player in the demon hierarchy.”

“…And the other one did the killing,” Baruch said.

“Big deal. Get him a magic hand,” I said through gritted teeth. “I’m alive thanks to Ari and his training. I refuse to believe he isn’t supposed to be Rasha.” Rabbi Abrams opened his mouth but I cut him off, knowing what he was going to say. “I don’t care if you ran the ceremony again. Ari is the chosen one, not me.”