The Unlikeable Demon Hunter (Nava Katz #1)(91)

“Any time.”

I paused at the doorway. Normally sexytime did not require any clarification because normally I would not be seeing the dude again. However, with Rohan and I being in such close quarters, I figured the laying out of mutual expectations would be appropriate.

“Are you still mad?” I asked.

“About what? Using sex to get what you want, your issues with kissing, or the fact you apparently have never met a personal boundary you care to respect?”

I winced, toeing at a groove in his floor. “Yes.”

“No, because I believe you weren’t. No, because I’m almost impressed with your level of dysfunction–”

“Your issue shit doesn’t smell like roses either,” I shot back.

“It would if I had any.”

I rolled my eyes at his ability to say that with a straight face.

“And no,” he said, “it’s annoying, but I’m not mad.”

The tightness in my chest relaxed. “Last item. To ensure there is no slap down of a Sexual Harassment 101 course on our,” I circled a finger between us, seeking a noun that wasn’t relationship, “situation by the HR department.”

“You mean our resident dominatrix?” Rohan asked.

“Stay professional, Snowflake.”

He schooled his features into a serious expression, nodding for me to continue.

I repressed my grin at the amusement in his eyes. “To clarify,” I said, ticking the items off on my fingers. “Our future dynamic includes training, dispatching unholy spawn, and doing the horizontal mambo at every opportunity, correct?”

“Except Saturdays,” he said. “I rest on Shabbat.” The Jewish Sabbath.

My face fell and Rohan laughed. “So easy on so many levels,” he teased.

“So mind-blowing on so many levels,” I corrected, and left.





25





Our talk didn’t bring Rohan to an earth-shattering epiphany. It certainly didn’t get me any closer to my goal of having Ari checked. All that happened was that Rohan avoided me the next day. I buried myself in more training, then headed up to my room, stopping in surprise as I entered.

My tap shoes were sitting on my bed. I reached a tentative finger out to touch them. Last time I’d seen them had been at my parents’ place. Ari would have mentioned if he’d brought them over. Except he wouldn’t have. As far as he was concerned, I’d shut that part of myself down. Only one person was aware that I’d danced again that one time.

I pressed my palms to my cheeks. Was this about me? About him? About us? Not that there was an us.

“Babyslay?” Kane stood in my doorway. “Rabbi Abrams wants to see you in his office.”

Hope rising in my chest, I bolted downstairs, skidding to a stop as the rabbi’s office door opened and my shell-shocked twin stumbled out.

“I’m still an initiate,” Ari said.

Behind his desk. Rabbi Abrams paused his polishing of a gold bar engraved with symbols to throw me a thumbs up. With a whoop, I jumped up and down.

Ari wore the same dazed look all the way out to the car.

“You’re happy, right?” I asked.

“Yeah. I just… need to process that it’s for real.” He sank into the driver’s seat, shaking his head. “Listen, Rabbi Abrams wants us to keep this between the three of us for now. Something about figuring out why re-running my induction ceremony didn’t work.” He popped his seat belt in with a click.

“Okay, but that means no unting-hay emons-day on your end.”

Ari started the car. I shut his door, doing my happy dance for the benefit of his rear view mirror until the car had veered out of sight down the drive.

I danced my way up the back stairs into the kitchen where I found Rohan sitting on the counter, texting. “Thankyouthankyouthankyou!” I threw my arms around him.

He jumped down, sliding his phone into his pocket. “I shouldn’t have held up the mission like that.”

My exuberance leaked out of me and I stepped back. I mean, yeah, it was a perfectly good reason to do the theme song but what about the tap shoes? Weren’t they symbolic of well, something?

Before I could ask, Drio bounded into the room and grabbed Rohan in a bear hug, spinning him around.

“Dude. Put me down.”

Drio squeezed him one more time then messed up Rohan’s hair. “I could kiss you!”

I could watch that.

“We’ll have the proof to take Samson down in no time.” Drio did a quick one-two step. “Prague, here we come!”

“Why Prague?” I asked.

“The final part of the production is being shot there.” Drio eyed me up and down, one hand braced on the counter. “Want to go?”

“Suuuure.” I pointed to the stairs. “I’ll pack my bags.”

“I’m serious.” He jerked his index finger up and down my body. “You’re attractive enough.”

I fluttered my hands in front of my face. “You think so?” I dropped the act. “Attractive enough for what?”

“Yes, Drio,” Rohan said. “Whatever are you up to?”

Drio’s hands gestured excitedly as the words tumbled out of him. “You doing the song opens up a bunch of new ways to plant more Rasha in the inner circle. As part of your entourage, I’ll be vetted by his posse no problem.” He jerked his thumb at me. “And any ‘friend,’” he used air quotes, “of the great Rohan Mitra’s…”