The Unlikeable Demon Hunter: Crave (Nava Katz #4)

They’d left the door open. We had an air conditioning system that did a pretty good job keeping the sweat stink at bay, but they’d propped open the door because it was steamy in there. I stayed in the shadows of the hallway.

Ro, wearing gi bottoms and a T-shirt, swung a thin curved blade mounted at the end of a long iron pole at Drio’s head. His pecs tensed and flexed with the movement.

The pole whistled over Drio, who’d flattened himself backward before springing back to his feet, a similar weapon at the ready. Drio’s gi bottoms encased his rock-hard thighs and his bare chest gleamed with sweat. Dude was so ripped, his six-pack had a six-pack. In a flash, he was behind Ro, his blade arcing toward Rohan with a hard whoosh.

I eeped at the ensuing decapitation, but Rohan had it under control. He sidestepped the weapon, not even flinching as it brushed by the end of his nose. He swept his pole under Drio’s and would have torn a chunk out of Drio’s side had Drio not blocked it with a ringing clang.

Both men strained, their weapons locked. Tendons popped on their arms, their teeth grinding, keeping each other at bay. Rohan stepped back, knocking Drio slightly off-center. Taking split-second advantage, he delivered a roundhouse kick to Drio’s thigh, hefted the pole high, and swung the blade down.

Drio blurred out, reappearing on the other side of the room.

The two circled each other. Rohan lunged suddenly, flipping the stick to knock Drio under the chin with the handle. Drio parried with his own weapon, sending Ro’s arm out of whack, but it wasn’t enough to block the hit entirely. Drio may have saved himself a pole through the underside of his jaw, but the blow still landed on the side of the head.

He staggered back, blood flowing from his ear.

Rohan went in for the kill. Even without his magic, he drove Drio to his knees.

“Basta,” Drio said. He pushed up off his knees, wrestling Ro’s staff to take it away from him. “Enough, Rohan.”

Ro’s hair was plastered to his forehead, his T-shirt soaked through. He grabbed the cloth wraps laying in a pile beside some discarded boxing gloves and began wrapping his knuckles. “What happened with the oshk?”

Drio grabbed his T-shirt off the floor and used it to staunch the bleeding. “Took her outside the wards again today, but if she’s calling the others, they’re not coming for her. I’ll try again tomorrow. Come upstairs. You’ve done enough training for today.” Drio spied me at the door and his jaw hardened, but his concern for his friend override his animosity towards me. “Talk some sense into him.”

“I’ll do better than that. Ro, come here.”

“Kinda busy.” Wraps on, he threw a couple of shadow punches.

“This is important.” I hugged him tight, laying my head against his chest.

He tensed, but his arms finally came around me. “What am I going to do?” he whispered.

“Not a damn thing.” I smiled up at him, reaching deep inside me for that magic Lilith had given me. This was no small sprig, but a massive rich bloom. I unfurled its petals, magic like dust motes flitting through me to fill my every inch.

Red magic shot out of me into Rohan, snapping my head back. Each dancing particle was visible; the world cranked to eleven. The floor wasn’t blue, it was infinite depths of the ocean. Rohan’s heart glowed pink through his brown skin, Drio’s hair shone like spun gold. Could have done without seeing the individual drops of sweat flying off the men, but the rainbow prisms refracted in them were pretty.

My amped-up power was a waterfall, a deafening roar lifting me off the ground, cool and pure and majestic. It lasted a single heartbeat and then turned off like a tap. I crumpled to the floor, mourning its loss. In that moment, I’d have agreed to anything to feel that way again.

“O cazzo!” Drio held the poles like a cross.

Rohan’s laugh bounced off the walls. Every single blade on his body was extended, his face lit up. I let his joy satisfy my craving for more of that magic. It was a salve, but it worked well enough.

I collapsed back against the padding and feebly fist-pumped. “Healing, bitches.”

He dropped to his knees beside me. “They said it couldn’t be unraveled.”

“Scientist witches. They had to find a solution.” Lilith allowed the lie.

“And you’re just that good.” Was it my imagination or did his eyes meet mine a little too pointedly? Was his smile a bit too wide?

I held out my hand and he pulled me up. “You better believe it. With a little help from my friends.” I coughed. “I’m going to take a shower.” I trailed a finger down his chest. “You could make me dinner in thanks.”

My stomach was knotted up and my mouth tasted like ash.

Drio still watched me with hostile suspicion, but he lowered the poles, disappearing into the weapons room.

My beautiful boy kissed my forehead. “You got it.”

As kisses went, it was a passing sweetness. I’d like to say that I’d have cherished it for the rest of my life, but the memory had already faded by the time I joined Ro in the kitchen forty-five minutes later, my hair loose and damp.

He’d laid out a candlelit table, which would have been romantic were the candles not pumping out a constant stream of smudgy smoke. Rohan presented me with crusty bread with olive oil and balsamic to dip it in, wine, salad, and fish.

It looked delicious. The taste, on the other hand? I poked at the halibut. “This salt-crust is really… salty.”

“Good, right?” Rohan ate with gusto. “It’s this Spanish recipe I’ve been wanting to try.”

I muscled another bite past my gag-reflex. Figured the last meal he’d ever want to cook for me was this disgusting disaster. “Yum.” I knocked back my wine, pouring more into my glass. Nerves steady, I pulled the fridge magnets that Yael had given me out of my terry cloth bathrobe. “You game?”

He laughed. “Smutty poetry magnets. Why not?”

I dumped the tiles out. Have. Give. Slow. Explore.

“Did you get burned when you healed me?” Rohan picked through the tiles for his selection.

I stopped rubbing the scar Lilith had given me to seal the deal. “I guess.”

Ro countered with: suck, stroke, quiver, throb.

“Jumping a few levels there, Snowflake.” Naked. Make. Me. Moan.

“I like this game.” We. Caress. Rub. Quiver.

“My turn.” Girl. In. My. Body. The tiles jerked sideways before he could read them, slipping to the floor. I doubled over in a hacking coughing fit, tears leaking out my eyes, my esophagus trying to escape out my mouth. All the words I wanted to say and couldn’t were a tight pinch, choking me.

It had been worth a try.

Rohan got me some water, patting my back until I waved him off. I dropped my head in my hands.

“Clusterfuck of a day, baby,” he said. “Come on. Let me take away all your tensions.”

I could close the fraction of an inch between us, let him lead me to the bedroom, rock his world, and wake up treasured in his arms the next morning.

I lay my hand on his cheek, not trusting my voice yet. Wishing there was any way other than this way outside-the-box plan. “I tried, but I can’t do this. I don’t want to be with you anymore. We’re done.”

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