Page 47 of Demons of Eden

“What crime am I being accused of?”

“That’s the strangest thing about it. They had no official assignment to do with you that I could find information on. It appeared it was being dealt with as a private matter they’d been hired directly for, one they were very vague about.”

“It’s not highly unusual for hunters to take private jobs,” I point out.

“But it is atypical of them to bring the client along.”

He’s not wrong. Usually they’d consider doing that the liability it is.

“Was the client claiming to be the victim or a relative?” I ask, trying to get a better idea of the situation.

“She didn’t actually claim either of those things,” he answers, unable to hide the confusion in his tone. “Apparently the little dove hired demon hunters to track you down simply in order to speak with you.”

“People don’t hire hunters because they want tochat.”

“This witch did.”

A witch. He couldn’t possibly mean…

The question tears out of my mouth as I demand, “Did you get her name?”

His white eyebrows shoot up, leaving him looking truly puzzled for a second before his expression morphs into a shit-eating grin. “Ashtar, did you happen to meet a pretty young witch recently? Did you charm her so thoroughly that she went and hired hunters simply to find you again?”

“I did meet a witch. I don’t know why she’d be looking for me, though. It didn’t seem like she had more to say,” I answer with a sigh, and if the words come out a little bitter, it’s only Marbas here to hear it. Though, I fully regret feeling relief at his presence when the bastard suddenly starts laughing as if I’ve said the funniest thing he’s heard in a century.

“You like her. A witch—” He cuts off as he laughs even harder, chuckling away even in the face of my unimpressed glare, taking his sweet time to regain his composure. “A witch and demon. It’s not a match many would approve of. I didn’t know you were such a hopeless romantic.”

“It’s not a match,” I reply through gritted teeth, denying his words vehemently. “We spent a night together, and I fed. That’s all. Nothing unusual.” Other than her seeing right through my lure to see one of my true forms. “I met her once. You can’t call that a romance.”

“So you say, yet you thought of one particular witch instantly,” he says, still grinning, and I wish I could smack the stupid smirk off my oldest friend’s face.

“We don’t even know if it’s the same one, seeing as you’ve held your tongue so far on that particular detail. Don’t think I haven't noticed.”

“A mistake,” Marbas lies, but before I can call him on it, he continues, “The witch introduced herself as Eden.”

At the confirmation, I pull my drink to my mouth, slowly draining the entire bottle in an effort to hide my reaction while I think.

Why would Eden be looking for me? It’s not like her feelings weren’t clear. It was a fun night, and then she left in the morning. That’s all. Surely she’s not looking to return the shirt she’d stolen? No one would go to the effort of hiring hunters for something so inane. Is she mad after figuring out what I am? Possibly, but it still seems unlikely someone would go to so much effort for that either.

I doubt I’ll figure out her motives without speaking to her, so I set the empty bottle onto the nearest table. “Did they say where I can find her?”

“No, but they did leave their card,” he answers, slipping it out of his sleeve and pushing it across the table. The words ‘Fletcher Hunting’ glimmer in gold and red across the front. “I’m sure they can direct you to her.”

I nod. Then, without another word, I snatch up the business card and leave. I’ll give Marbas the answers he’s clearly after once I have my own, and also once he’s not acting so irritatingly smug about the whole thing. I can still hear the bastard laughing after me from his spot where he lords above his domain as I take the stairs down, two at a time.

I move like there’s fire at my heels, despite being unsure what it is I’m actually rushing towards…

CHAPTER NINETEEN

“Fuck.”I groan, reaching for Torrin’s shoulders as he kisses up my neck. He works his lips over me so tantalisingly slow, it’s as if he thinks he needs to tempt me, like I hadn’t driven all the way over here for exactly this.

“Let me give you what you need,” he murmurs in my ear. I think it’s possible he says something else after, but I’m already nodding at his offer and tugging his shirt in silent demand.

Screw patience; I need to feel his skin against mine already.

Leaning back, he lets me remove the offensive piece of fabric that was keeping us apart before he reaches for mine as well, throwing both onto the floor in a tangled heap. I’m anything but subtle in my appreciation for his body, unblinking eyes roaming every bared inch of him. I reach out a hand to stroke my fingers down over his chest and abs.

Goddess. He looks so fucking good without a shirt on.

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