The Unlikeable Demon Hunter (Nava Katz #1)(21)

“There’s a reason we’re called the Fallen Angels,” Rohan replied.

“Yeah, delusions of grandeur.” I scooted past a massive painting of a malevolent demon hurtling toward the fires of Hell. On the table next to it was a small, painted demon statue with an exaggerated grimace and tusks who I’d guess to be of Thai or Indonesian origin. “You named yourselves.”

He flashed me a grin. “If the label fits.”

“Don’t be cocky. It’s insufferable.”

“Only if you can’t pull it off.”

Wow.

“Question,” I said, curious about how clean and clutter-free the place was. Very weird given the all-alpha atmosphere. “Who takes care of things? ’Cause I’m not doing some Snow White gig where I keep house. I am Rasha. Hear me roar.” I thought about it. “Well, crackle.”

“We have Ms. Clara for that.” Kane had joined us, minus the coffee cup, but not plus any more clothing yet. An elaborate set of black wings was tattooed on his back, their tips licked by flame. A few feathers had fallen, scorched, to the base of his spine. Had he not been gay and already assigned in my mind to my brother, I’d have enjoyed exploring that tattoo. With my tongue.

The heavenly scent of fresh baked chocolate chip cookies broke into my lustful imaginings. “Does she make cookies on a regular basis?” I crossed my fingers behind my back.

“The best,” Kane said. “Come on, I’ll introduce you.”

Yes please. Happy to meet the kindly housekeeper who baked. Ignoring Rohan’s growled, “Downstairs in two, or else,” I skipped off to the kitchen, envisioning the plump, good-natured granny wearing her white ruffled apron, a tray of cookies in hand, fresh from the oven.

I got the tray part right.

“Ms. Clara, meet Nava.”

I put out my hand, my smile freezing in place as the five-foot-nothing woman at the stove faced me. Yes, with the envisioned tray of cookies but could I have been more wrong about the rest? For starters, the only plump thing about this chick were her boobs, which strained against her buttery yellow wrap dress.

She plunked the tray on top of the stove.

I dropped my hand along with the lower half of my jaw. Ms. Clara was stunning. Late-twenties, tops, she was also like a giant–sorry–mini ball of sunshine from her golden sun-kissed skin to her blonde curls and blue eyes.

“Another girl.” She beamed at me, her voice breathy, as she tossed the oven mitt on the counter. “Finally.”

“Nice to meet you, Clara,” I said.

“Ms. Clara,” she snapped in a voice so stern that I flinched, standing at attention.

She giggled. “Oops.”

“Ms. Clara secretly moonlights as one of Vancouver’s top dominatrixes,” Kane informed me. He stared at her in open adoration. “She’s so badass.”

I was supposed to be the lone badass girl in this place. It was the one thing I had going for me here. She was supposed to be the old caretaker they adored like a nanny. “Sorry,” I said, smoothing out my T-shirt. “Nice to meet you, Ms. Clara.”

“Have a cookie, doll.” She held out a plate of perfectly formed, perfectly warm, and perfectly melty chocolate chip cookies. Perfect seemed to be a theme with her.

“Thanks.” I bit into it and moaned. “Oh. My. God.”

“A sound many a man and woman has made in Ms. Clara’s presence,” Rohan said, coming into the kitchen. He rounded on me with a mouthed “Or else.”

I took another bite.

“Rohan!” Ms. Clara was at least a foot shorter than Rohan, but when she caught him up in a hug, it was he who stumbled, her lean but toned arms pulling him down to her height. “I’d heard you were coming. How long are you back for?”

“Who knows? With this one?” He jerked his thumb at me. “You may be stuck with me forever.”

“He’s terrible,” Ms. Clara said to me, with an affectionate shake of the head.

“With worse depths revealed every moment,” I agreed, savagely taking another bite.

He shot me a wolfish grin. “Duty calls.” He gripped the back of my T-shirt and gave a sharp tug to get me moving.

I stood there, finishing my cookie.

“Don’t let them bully you,” she said. “And make sure they let you come up for lunch. I make a great iced tea with plenty of electrolytes.” She winked at me. “Plus, I’d be happy to give you some whip usage tips.”

“Damn. I’m going to like you, aren’t I?” I felt retroactively bad for feeling like I had to compete against her. I popped the rest of the cookie in my mouth, taking a moment to savor the joy dissolving on my tongue. “If only for more mouthgasms on a regular basis.”

“Aww, smutty.” She patted my cheek. “We’re going to get along just fine.”

Rohan groaned. “That’s all we need.” He led me from the room.

I tried to wriggle away from him but he kept his hand hot and steady on my coccyx. Fuck, he was turning my innocent body part into a dirty erogenous zone. “I can walk without assistance,” I said. “Upright and everything.”

“I’m checking to see if you go where I put you.”

“First into the line of fire?”

“You’re smarter than the average bear, aren’t you?” He poked me in the back to steer me down two flights of narrow stairs, past the ground floor offices, and into a basement. Even though the basement walls consisted of solid concrete blocks painted a bright white, the ceilings were still a good nine feet high, with wide, well-lit hallways. It wouldn’t surprise me if there were secret tunnels that they’d carted booze through back during Prohibition.