Not Your Ex's Hexes (Supernatural Singles, #2)(42)

He finally looked at her. “You want a pat on the back? Fine. Good job. Ooh. Now let’s get you a ride home.”

He tugged her away from where his motorcycle sat parked beneath the only working streetlamp. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask what the rush was when a large shadowy figure dropped in front of them, blocking their path.

Damian cursed, and with a sharp tug, dragged her behind him. “Do not move until I tell you.”

“Why would I—” The shadow stepped into a streak of moonlight, and Rose’s eyes transformed into dinner plates. “Sweet mother Goddess.”

Bat-like wings stretched out from the broad-shouldered man’s back, the apexes adorned with sharp, curved talons nearly as big and thick as her forearm. Locking his lizard-like gaze on Damian, the demon snarled to reveal ultra-long canines dripping with saliva.

The liquid hit the pavement and instantly sizzled.

Okay, definitely not regular saliva.

“Heard rumors you’re searching for me, Hunter.” The winged demon’s deep voice hissed each s. “Well … here I am.”

Damian shook his head. “Don’t know where you heard that. The only thing I’m looking for is the meaning of life, and a maybe a urinal. And the name’s not Hunter. You must be looking for someone else. Maybe he’s inside.”

Behind him, Rose rolled her eyes. He’d get them killed yet.

“It’s definitely you.” The demon sniffed, his nostrils flaring. “The stench of the Underworld’s Scourge is impossible to miss.”

You’re not exactly bathing in essential body oils, my friend.

Both Damian and the winged demon-man stiffened.

Rose cursed. “Hurl a hex … Did I say that aloud?”

Damian sighed. “Yeah, little witch, you did. Run.”

“What?”

He didn’t have time to repeat himself before another winged demon dropped, and then a third. Unlike the original, they’d shed their humanoid fa?ade and stood there in all their gray leather-skinned glory.

Damian whirled around, and gently pushed her. “Run! Now!”

The oh-shit look on his face moved her feet at a pace worthy of an Olympic sprinter. Halfway to the motorcycle, her hair whipped around her face and one of the winged demons dropped in front of them, cutting them off from their only escape.

“I didn’t realize the meteorologist called for a heavy downpour of demons tonight,” Rose quipped dryly.

Damian shot her a look.

“What?”

“You’re joking? Now?”

“Normally, I shred paper and pop bubble wrap when I’m nervous, so unless you happen to have any packing material on your person, you’ll have to deal with my nervous joking, doc.” Her gaze flicked to the two demons behind them, and back. “Have any bright ideas on how to get out of this?”

“You’re the one who seems loaded with them tonight. You tell me.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Now who’s joking…”

“Hell, babe. I’m not joking. I’m all for listening to any ideas right now.”



* * *



Magic filled the alley, bringing a not-so-subtle breeze that picked up Rose’s hair and whipped it around her head. The witch looked like a gorgeous force of nature, and the sight of her all badass and determined, with pink Magic swirls engulfing her hands, would’ve given Damian an erection if he didn’t fear for her life.

Hell, both of their lives … because dealing with one Gryndor demon was bad enough. Three was damn near impossible. Brute strength, skin nearly impenetrable when in their true forms, and poison-tipped talons put them in a demon class all of their own.

The Run, Hide, & Hope for the Best Class.

He and Rose had already failed at running. They couldn’t hide.

That left one option.

“You gentlemen should go about your evening.” Rose sounded deceptively calm. “There’s no need for this to get ugly.”

“Oh, there’s a need, witch.” The first demon growled, and his entire body—which at first looked Norm despite the big black wings—turned a stony gray.

“Please don’t say it like that. Yes, I’m a witch. But said in that tone, it’s not exactly friendly sounding.”

“Anyone who hangs around with the Scourge isn’t a friend.” He shot his lizard-like eyes toward Damian.

Rose followed his gaze to Damian, and shrugged. “He may have the personality of a soggy potato, but he’s honestly not bad once you get to know him. He grows on you. Like super fungus.”

“Hey,” Damian said in protest. He wasn’t sure whether to be happy she’d defended him or annoyed she seemed shocked by it. “Super fungus? Really?”

“Would you have prefer I used super E. coli? I assure you, fungus is the cuddlier of the two.”

“It’s obvious you’re the one who doesn’t know him, witch.” Gryndor Number One chuckled as he stalked forward. “That hybrid standing next to you is the Scourge of the Underworld. A vile abomination. He’s a damn traitor, no loyalty to his own kind nor to his own sire.”

Damian bristled, his hands balling into fists at his side at the mention of sire. “I hope to hell you’re not insinuating I’m anything like you and your friends. And you better not be implying that my sperm donor deserves anything more than my complete disdain.”