Not Your Ex's Hexes (Supernatural Singles, #2)(69)

Rose sniffed the air, her nose immediately wrinkling with distaste. “What’s the smell?”

Damian pushed off the wall. “Turn around and find out.”

“Why would I…?” She turned, her eyes widening to saucerlike discs as they roamed up and up, her head tilting back to take in the entire length of the Faroi, which stood nearly three feet above her own five-foot-eight. “What the hell did you do with Virginia?”

With a bellowing laugh, the she-demon tossed the walker aside. “Oh, sweetheart. I ate Virginia Cummings for breakfast nearly four and a half centuries ago.”

“Ate?”

“I am Cumitox. Entrepreneur. Philanthropist. Acquirer of Magical Antiquities.” Cumitox flicked her forked tongue over her lips. “And I would very much like to make you my next vessel. You look absolutely edible … and sturdy.”

Rose stepped back, shaking her head. “I’m not. Really, I’m not. I’ve been told I give people indigestion, and not the kind cured by a roll of Tums.”

Damian chuckled. “I think you taste pretty damn good.”

Her head swiveled toward him, “Not helpful, doc. Not helpful in the least.”

“Oh, you want me to be helpful? Like suggesting you put her in magical cuffs? Oh wait … I did do that. Huh. Guess I’m pretty helpful after all.”

“Can we save the I told you so for when a demon isn’t announcing they’d like to make me their next skin suit?”

“Seems a little boring, doesn’t it?” Damian asked, using her own words against her.

The she-demon’s gaze bounced between them. “Are you married or something?”

“No way!” Rose exclaimed at the same time Damian snorted, “Not even close.”

The witch’s head snapped to him. “Why do you say it like that?”

“Like what?”

She dropped her voice and mimicked him. “Not. Even. Close. If I ever decide to marry, that person would be the luckiest person on Earth.”

“Then we definitely know it’s not me because the only luck I have is the bad kind,” Damian quipped.

“Yoo-hoo!” Cumitox waved her taloned hands. “I hate to break up this lover’s quarrel, but can we get this moving? I’d very much love to get to bed and have sweet, sweet dreams of my dear Nicky.”

Damian came up next to the Faroi. “Sorry, Tox, but nap time will have to wait. You need to come with us.”

“But I don’t want to!” The she-demon stomped her foot.

Rose folded her arms over her chest, the move plumping her corset-covered breasts. “Sometimes we have to do things we don’t want. It’s a fact of life.”

“Not in my life, witch.” Cumitox leaped, taloned fingers spread out as she reached for Rose.

Damian pulled her away from the claws’ trajectory with a split second to spare, and the demon howled, swinging around to catch him, too. Damian ducked and the strike hit nothing but air.

Drawing on his inner hellion, he weaved around each punch and kick, his reflexes and increased speed making contact practically impossible. Rose stood off to the side, her mouth slightly agape as she watched.

“This isn’t a spectator sport, little witch,” Damian jested, ducking yet another swinging fist. That time the whoosh of air brushed across his cheek.

Too damn close.

“You want to do that little hocus-pocus thing?” Damian breathed a little heavier as he dance-battled with a now-raging Faroi. “Magical cuffs like you did with the Gryndors would be pretty good right about now.”

Cumitox looked more hesitant before taking her next lazy swing. “The Gryndors? You’re the two Hunters that took down the Gryndor brothers?”

Damian nodded his head toward Rose. “Technically, she did all the heavy lifting on that one.”

The demon stopped, not looking the least bit winded, and stared at Rose. “It takes powerful Magic to incapacitate a Gryndor demon … especially the brothers. What’s your familial line?”

“That’s an awfully personal question for having just met, isn’t it?” Rose quipped. “But I’m a Maxwell.”

Cumitox’s red-scaled face went petal pink. “You’re the descendent of Edie Maxwell?”

“That would be my grandmother.”

The Faroi slowly returned to the demure form of Virginia Cummings, her face lit up with something akin to awe. “I can’t believe the Prima’s granddaughter was sent to pick up little ole me! This is almost better than seeing my sweet Nick in concert! I’ll go with you, witch. No fuss.”

Rose slid a coy, smug look Damian’s way. “So you’re not going to eat me for a midnight snack and wear me as a skin suit?”

“Oh, no. Absolutely not. This is a much better story to tell my quilting circle. They’ll die with jealousy, and that’s more priceless than whatever delicious meat is on your bones.”

He silently cursed at the wicked gleam in Rose’s eye.

He’d brought her along with the hope she’d either be bored to tears or terrified into screams, but she’d experienced neither. Nothing except a healthy dose of determination. As much as that should bother him, he also couldn’t help but be a smidge bit proud they’d done it together … and his inner demon, pushing against his flesh, agreed.