The Unlikeable Demon Hunter (Nava Katz #1)(16)
The combination of the steam and the sugar scrub smeared all over my body was softening my stiff muscles, washing away fears and tensions. All right, washing away sweat and demon goo but they tamped the fears and tensions down a tad. I washed my death hand about sixty-seven times before I pronounced it free of demon and karma.
Bad things really did come in threes. I’d been lucky tonight. No previous female Rasha meant that Josh had been unaware of the danger he’d been in from me, allowing my first show of magic to dust him. With his sister, Ari had been there. And with that last encounter in my backyard? I didn’t know what to make of that whole meeting and that bothered me more than the other two combined. Loathe as I was to admit it, tomorrow I was going to march myself over to the Vancouver chapter and let them take me in hand.
I shuddered, remembering Josh. Phrasing.
I dumped some argon oil shampoo in my palm, lathering up. I’d tried running away and that had gotten me nowhere. Since I didn’t want to find myself in a repeat of tonight or, you know, actually dead the next time I met a demon, I’d play nice with Demon Club.
More importantly, I had to help Ari. I wasn’t going to let my brother wither away. Much as Brotherhood history and tradition were screwing me hard and dry with no money on the bedside table afterwards, they worked in Ari’s favor. Whenever the Brotherhood determined Rasha initiate status, they committed to that (male) person without hesitation. Right now, they thought that they’d made a mistake with Ari, so their conviction that Ari was no longer an initiate was the biggest hurdle. Get the proof to correct that and his induction would swiftly follow. He’d be back on his rightful path.
I rinsed out my hair, finger combing conditioner through it.
My plan for tomorrow had two-parts: A) master my power since it appeared demons were actively targeting me now and, B) get the Brotherhood to confirm Ari’s initiate status. Me being Rasha was a weird glitch that didn’t negate my brother’s destiny.
Oh, and try not to be freaked by all this. Okay, three parts. But that’s where I capped it.
Clean of body and soul, I shut off the tap, giving myself a small electric shock in the process. Damn faulty piece of shit hand. I stepped out of the shower, wrapping the towel around my head like a giant turban before breaking open the fronds to smear aloe on my tender boobs.
I slathered body lotion on the rest of me, slipping nice and moisturized into my pink baby doll tee reading “I know guacamole is extra” and matching pink pajama shorts with small avocados printed on them. Finally, I brushed my teeth and towel dried my hair. The normalcy of following my nighttime routine was comforting.
Dumping the damp towel on the floor, I picked up the Doritos bag to throw in to my bedroom trash, since my bathroom’s was full. I opened the door with a cloud of steam, and wandered into my comparatively cooler bedroom.
Where I collided with a hard chest.
I screamed. Or tried to. A strong hand slammed down over my mouth to smoother my cries. I attempted my knee smash, but was blocked before I could even finish the thought, much less execute the move. The intruder picked me up and tossed me on my bed. My memory foam mattress contoured itself around the shape of my ass.
“You telegraph way too much,” a smooth voice said to me. Backyard guy was back.
Ignoring the decadent images that his voice conjured up, I shoved my hand into the Doritos bag which contained about 237% salt, crawled to the edge of the bed, and threw the crumbs in the demon’s face. “Burn, fucker!”
The demon glared at me as he wiped orange dust off his cheeks and sweater. “This is cashmere,” he said, frowning at the deep blue fabric.
I scrambled to my feet, holding the bag out in front of me like a cross. Which, incidentally, did nothing against demons. And since vampires didn’t exist, did nothing against them either. Some demon happened to get its kicks feeding from the neck and suddenly everyone was rushing in with garlic and stakes looking to take down Count Dracula. Those who weren’t romanticizing them as life partners, that is.
“There is enough salt in this bag to blister you back to your evil dimension.” Smirking, I batted my lashes at him. “Feel free to be scared.”
He swiped the bag out of my hands, tossing it into the trash behind him. “A, if you’re gonna eat chips, at least eat decent ones. B, not a demon. And C,” he said, reading my baby doll tee, “love the outfit, Nava.”
I scowled at him. “You are absolutely a demon.”
He pulled out my desk chair, turned it around with a snap of his wrists, and straddled it. “Why?”
“For starters, I never told you my name. Probably got it from the demon phone tree that went out about me.”
He grinned at me, flashing toothpaste-ad-perfect, even, white teeth. “I’m not on the list.”
I crossed my arms over my nipples which were now so hard from that grin he’d leveled at me that one good operatic scream could shatter them. I shut down all possibilities of how said scream could be achieved, locking them inside a box deep in my psyche.
“Any other proof you want to dazzle me with?” he asked.
How about the fact that his grin made Josh’s seem like a neutered puppy’s and Josh was a lust demon. Half-demon. Which made this guy full-evil status. “You broke into my bedroom and are holding me hostage.” With your incredible looks.
Damn. Why not roll over already, idiot girl?