The Unlikeable Demon Hunter (Nava Katz #1)(61)

I didn’t know what else he expected me to have. “I’m good.” I pointed at a pile on my bed. “Start with those, please.”

Ari jogged into the room. “Need more containers?” He stopped as he saw Rohan. “Hey.” My brother puffed up as he stepped closer. “I’m Ari. And you are…?”

To his credit, Rohan stuck out his hand for Ari to shake. “Rohan.”

Ari shook it. “You’re watching Nava.”

Rohan tilted his head. “That a problem?”

Ari draped an arm over my shoulder. “Not if you keep my sister safe.”

“That’s my job,” Rohan said in an even tone. “I’m very good at my job.”

They stood there, eyeing each other.

I made an “ugh” sound and stepped away from my brother. “Did you put a Rubbermaid in the laundry room for the sheets?” I asked him.

“Yeah. I’ll bring them over once they’re dry.” Ari picked up the first full Rubbermaid. “I’ll take this out to the car.”

“Put it in mine,” Rohan said. “No point in two cars going.”

Ari nodded and headed out.

It didn’t take long to pack the rest of my stuff. I snapped a hair elastic around my wrist in case I needed to tie my hair back later, then exited the bathroom with my container of make-up, bath products, and hair stuff and dumped it on the bed, looking around my room for anything I’d missed.

“I guess that’s it.” Five medium Rubbermaids. The sum total of my adult life. I wasn’t sure if it was depressing or liberating, so I didn’t dwell. I reached for the container with my bathroom items, jerking back at a sharp slicing pain in my middle finger as I caught it on a ragged edge of the lid. Holding my bleeding finger upright, I used my other hand to pull the lid off, rummaging for my Band-Aids. I held out the box to Rohan. “Could you put one on me please?”

He applied the Band-Aid.

Then he kissed my finger. A pointed and deliberate touch of his lips to my skin that went on for several beats too long. He stared at me with those sumptuously lashed eyes, his lips soft and warm.

A giddy bubble danced around in my belly. I snatched my hand back.

Rohan tossed the Band-Aid box into the Rubbermaid, the look on his face daring me to say something.

I bit back a sigh. “Do we need to talk about this?” Much as I didn’t want to share my deeply held beliefs around the whole kissing thing, I also didn’t want–couldn’t afford–weirdness with him.

“We don’t need to do anything.” His amber eyes were clouded with anger.

I tried to convince myself that not all of it was directed at me but I wasn’t that deluded.

“Look, about last night–”

He fit the lid back on the container and hefted it up. “Nope.” He popped the “p” for emphasis. “Changed my mind. There is something you need to do.”

I smoothed down the edge of the Band-Aid. “Yes?”

“Not talk.”

“Ever?”

“Is that an option?” he asked.

I held up my middle finger. “Thanks for the bandage.”

He stomped off, grabbing a second container along the way.

“I see,” Ari said as he entered, listening to Rohan pound down the stairs.

“No, you really don’t.” I sank down onto my bed.

He sat down beside me, ticking off items on his fingers. “You had sex, your dysfunctional kissing issues surfaced, and now you’re both messed up over it.”

“Oh. Guess you do. Except I am neither dysfunctional nor messed up about anything. Everything went according to plan.”

We both flinched at the sound of a trunk being slammed much too hard.

Ari’s eyes darted over to window. “Yup. It went swimmingly. You get that he’s feeling used, right?”

I slapped a hand over my mouth in mock shock. “A man feeling used after a sexual encounter? Oh my God, whatever will we do?” I dropped my hand. “He knew the score. No one forced him.”

I sounded a bit pissy but I couldn’t believe I had to defend myself. A man had no-strings attached sex, he got high-fived. I did the same, even with the no-kissing, and the entire male gender posse’d up around poor, fragile Snowflake? Screw that.

Ari stood up, stacking the last two containers on top of each other before picking them up. “You’re playing with fire.”

“I’m not playing with anything. The fire was ignited, blazed, and doused last night. End of story.”

He shook his head at me and carried my stuff out.

I pushed thoughts of Rohan out of my mind. I was leaving home. A lump formed in my throat. Going downstairs into the kitchen, I found my mom making my favorite breakfast of waffles and extra-crispy bacon. There was enough for a small army, along with a heaping platter of cut strawberries. She motioned at the coffee pot. “I could warm the milk,” she said.

“That would be great.” Part of me wanted to rush into her arms but another perverse part of me refused to give her the satisfaction of needing her. I’d learned my lesson with that bullshit vulnerability.

“By the way,” Mom said, jerking her spatula toward the counter, “you got a letter.”

A letter that she’d already opened. I scanned the contents. It was from the University of British Columbia asking me to contact them about the status of my enrollment.