The Unlikeable Demon Hunter (Nava Katz #1)(58)

That look pushed a major button. Something shifted inside me, like a switch being thrown on. Electricity burst from my palms, causing Rohan to jerk back. My memory was now working just fine. “Asshole,” I snarled, lowering my hands.

“There she is.” He smiled and I was undone at the tenderness in it.

Our chests heaved in identical rhythms. We were both dirty, our filth ranging in color from demon innard black to demon innard red with a soup?on of purple bruising as an accent. The rain had soaked our clothes and plastered our hair to our heads.

I checked the park but Asmodeus was really gone. The question was, why?





15





“I didn’t kill him,” Rohan said. “I don’t know why he left and I’m certain it wasn’t because of anything we did because the two of us on our own had no hope against him. We haven’t seen the last of him.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “You used the snitch, didn’t you?”

“To be fair, I figured I’d be safely behind the Demon Club wards before he got the message. Before he got to me.” I shivered. “What if Asmodeus was right, and all I want is to forget any of this ever happened? I thought I’d been dealing, but…” I blew out my cheeks.

Rohan tipped my chin up, forcing me to meet his eyes. “You are dealing. Brilliantly.” He tucked a dripping strand behind my ear.

My chest constricting at this new layer of intensity to an already brain-exploding night, I grasped his hand, intending to brush him off, but found myself leaning into him.

He tilted his head, looking at me oddly. “Your eyes,” he said, in a strangled voice. “I can still see lightning in them.”

Panic clawed at my throat. I opened my mouth to protest the lightning girl label but the sky above lit up with a brilliant flash that let me see the truth of his words in the reflection of his eyes.

And the heat simmering in their depths. Ironically, that calmed me down. Lust didn’t frighten me. Quite the opposite.

Rohan curled his fingers around my waist, ducking his head toward mine.

I slammed my hand over his mouth. “No kissing.”

That activity had been kiboshed over a year ago after a spectacularly disappointing session with one Elvis Persig. His fishy-lipped nibbling of my face had felt too much like the time I’d stuck my feet in one of those tanks for squirming, toothless carp to eat my dead skin. Except without the exfoliating benefit.

I loved kissing. Or rather, loved the idea of it as this precious gesture to be shared between two people in love. I just wasn’t sure that love existed. Case in point, my ex, Cole, who was supposed to be there for me when I’d learned I had to stop dancing. The one who’d fucked off instead, leaving me to break down alone. Relationships had become hook-ups. While I’d kept the kissing–at first–these hook-ups weren’t about tenderness and intimacy.

Easier to let kissing stop being part of the equation.

Rohan shot me a look of disbelief.

I gently cupped his crotch, feeling a cheap thrill at his hard-on. “This isn’t romance, baby. It’s lust, pure and simple.”

“It may be pure but there’s nothing simple about it, Lolita. In fact,” he traced a finger down my cleavage, “it’s rather complicated.” He leaned in toward me again and I put a hand on his chest to stop him.

“I’m not dreaming about happily-ever-afters and I’m not your girl with the lightning eyes.” I practically sneered that last bit at him.

It took a second for him to believe me. Trust me, I saw the moment that he did because a dark savagery crossed his face. I skittered back, my back hitting a wide tree trunk but Rohan didn’t move. He clearly wanted me, so what was the hold up? His eyes were intent on mine, looking for something.

Ah.

“Not backing up because I’m afraid, baby.” I winked, throwing a glance at the tree behind me. Though, okay, I did experience a moment of panic about the possibility of another misfire and Cuntessa once more being reduced to a charred nubbin. I wasn’t sure her and I could get past it happening twice.

But where Rohan was concerned? No, I’d backed up to get some much needed distance at the lust triggered by the look on his face. My need for him had reached supernova levels. The potential big bang worth any risk. I licked my lips, crooking a finger at him. “Do you need an engraved invitation, Snowflake?”

“Fuck,” he ground out, prowling toward me.

My toes curled at the hot look in his eyes that dipped and lingered on the hollow of my neck, only to be replaced by his lips there as he gathered my hair in his fist and tugged it to one side.

His tongue, hot on my cool skin, swirled in tempo with the beats of my heart, now hammering Indy-car fast under the onslaught of his mouth on my collarbone. “Sugar,” he murmured.

“Body scrub.” I tilted my neck to give him better access, but with a sharp jerk, Rohan spun me around, pressing me against the rough bark. He slammed my hands over my head, gripping them lightly but firmly in one hand. I scrabbled for a hold, my eyes falling on the words “Party like it’s 1999” scratched into the trunk, just past the tip of my nose. Rain cascaded down around us like a steamy waterfall, but the leaves made a dry, cozy bubble above us.

Rohan raked his nails up my spine.

I shivered, totally in thrall as he pressed the length of his body against me. Trapped between the tree and him–a near-stranger, and dangerous at that–heat spread like wildfire deep in my core. Flamed high. The unpredictability of it brought out an interesting little kink I had, though it wasn’t a case of any guy would do.