Page 8

CHAPTER EIGHT

S wallowing thickly, I try to ignore the twisting, empty sensation quickly growing worse in my stomach as I approach the office for Fletcher Hunting for the third time this week.

Goddess, I’m so freaking ravenous. I feel like I could eat the entire contents of a particularly large fridge. I’m honestly next-level hungry, quickly verging into hangry territory. It probably doesn’t help that somehow the smell of the grass outside their building is suddenly enraging. Not for reasons aligning with logical sense, of course. It’s just so strong— and green. Full of life, bugs, and dirt. It’s vaguely the sort of outdoorsy smell that both my parents and my brother would absolutely love, but I've never personally been a fan of. It makes me think of hot afternoons forcibly spent tending to the plants, rather than being allowed to practice making charms inside. You know, where it was safe from bugs and the pesky field sprites, which were as abundant in the area as they were mischievous.

Ugh.

It’s hard to believe some people think those sprites are cute. If they were water sprites, I wouldn't try to argue, even if I do think elegant is a better word for them. Field sprites, however? They’re basically devils sent to throw dirt in your hair and pull up the flower you just planted because they think it should go somewhere else for some truly inexplicable reason. Not that they’d ever tell you where to replant; you’d simply have to do it as many times as it takes for them to not be offended. I still think they purposefully chose to find faults with the ones I did. The rest of my family never had nearly as much trouble.

Just thinking about it now makes me want to stomp all around the damn grassy area over there like some kind of raving lunatic.

I pause at the thought, huffing out a disgruntled noise as I realise how crazy I'm being. Taking a deep breath in and out, I try my best to control myself and ignore the sensory and emotional overload that’s tickling my nose with every damn inhale of air. Fucking hormones. They have to be what’s making me this way, unless I’ve spontaneously lost my damn mind, which I suppose, given recent events, is somewhat plausible. Surely suffering demonic impregnation and abandonment is cause enough for a little insanity on my part?

It’s been two days since Torrin and I went to see Eli, regrettably also meeting Lord Piehole in the process, yet Ash is still nowhere in sight. Sighing over the unfairness of it all and mentally preparing myself for even more disappointment, I force myself to keep walking towards the door. I’m supposed to be meeting with the hunters to discuss leads, but if they’d found Ash already, I think they’d be taking me directly to him rather than having me come here. I’m sure Rio especially would be glad to never let me step back inside of their building again.

As I reach the entrance, I realise how I’m probably seconds away from breathing actual fire at the first man who crosses my path. All thanks to the simmering irritation inside of me for their entire gender, which is about to bubble over. So, whether it’s flames or scalding water, it feels like some guy is definitely going to burn, imminently. A man did do this to me, after all.

A demon man, but still…the point stands.

The sun’s set, and being an early eater, it’s well past my typical dinner time. Honestly, I should be having a second dinner at this point. No wonder pregnant women are so emotional. This is pure bullshit. For the tenth time this week, I wonder if it’s this bad for every witch carrying a baby, or if the demon aspect is the real culprit for my suffering. If it’s the first option, I swear I won’t be having any regular witch babies after this one’s out. And if it’s the second, well, I wasn’t exactly planning on more demonic children anyway…

I’ll admit, I unnecessarily shove the door open with a bit too much force, viciously enjoying the way it swings right open and slams shut again with a satisfying thump behind me. My mouth opens to growl loudly at Torrin for inviting me over to talk about their failing hunt for my demon impregnator when the man in question rounds the corner. He’s grinning, and I'm not sure if it’s because he’s happy to see me or if it’s his default state to be this cheerful.

“There’s pie,” Torrin says quickly as he freezes, clearly reading the tension which must be radiating from me at this point to be so immediately noticeable. Despite his pie-offering caution, the smile on his face could melt panties, somehow coming across both teasing and amused as his gaze roams over me. It’s also the slightest bit crooked, which only adds to its charm. There’s a different kind of twisting occurring in my stomach when I realise the expression reaches all the way to his warm hazel eyes.

Definitely happy to see me.

A pleased, buzzing warmth spreads through me at the thought. I can’t be sure if it’s the sight of him or if it’s simply the mention of pie that causes a sudden spike of desire alongside it. Regardless, a sexy man bringing offerings of food is possibly the only true cure for the hangry, raging hormone monster I’ve apparently become.

“The pie is for after the tacos!” Daion calls from around the corner, and the only thing saving him from being mauled to death right here and now is the mention of more food.

“Tacos?” I lift a questioning brow at Torrin as I walk further into the room. The scent of them suddenly hits me then, so I take a deep inhale, my mouth practically watering at the tasty promise it offers.

Loud rumbling from my stomach decides to announce my hunger to the world, embarrassing me in the process. Torrin snorts a laugh at the sound, earning him a glare he completely ignores, unaffected by what I know people have previously referred to as ‘Eden’s death stare.’

“We thought we’d feed you while we went over everything,” Torrin explains, and I could kiss him for the foresight and consideration in his plan.

“He thought,” Rio clarifies unnecessarily as he stalks into the room, as grumbly as I remember. Ugh. Why did he choose to show his face today? I liked it better when he sulked upstairs. I ignore him in favour of getting comfortable on the sofa. Today there’s a second one on the other side of the coffee table, looking almost suspiciously clean, so I take the same seat I took the day I met them. Who knows what they got cleaned out of it or whether it’s still lingering there, deep down in the cushions?

Demon blood? Yeah, it’s probably demon blood…

“Any tacos in particular I should avoid?” I ask with more snark than necessary, pushing away the gross blood-related thoughts when Daion enters carrying the takeout boxes. I don’t want to waste perfectly good food with self-induced queasiness.

“I’ve already grabbed mine, so help yourself,” Rio shoots back with just as much sass as he takes the seat right across from me, shoving his food onto the low table in front of himself. Even with the attitude, I’m so surprised by his willingness to sit in my vicinity that I don’t have a retort for once. Not one proper insult or even a half-baked attempt to kill me yet from him either. It’s basically a miracle.

Is it possible Torrin and Daion replaced him with a pod person? If they did, I have to say the replacement is quite the improvement so far.

Well, if he’s going to play nice, I can do that too. I smile at him, sweet as the pie I’m looking forward to eating. Rio frowns back, his eyes turning suspicious for a moment before he turns his head to glance at Daion as he takes the seat next to him.

A second later, Torrin drops into the spot next to me. The warmth radiating from him is tempting to lean into, so I scoot in the opposite direction, leaving a good seven inches of space between us. Can’t be scaring the nice hunter off with my apparent surge of horniness and general increase in desire for touch. Ugh. So many freaking weird pregnancy changes.

“Try one of these,” Torrin offers while popping open a box, quickly placing a taco onto a disposable plate, which he then hands to me.

“Is it spicy?” I ask cautiously, making him pause to think about it. His focus is intent on the taco as if staring at it will provide the answer to my question.

“I don’t think so,” he replies uncertainly with a shrug, turning to Daion for a second opinion.

“Don’t ask me,” the man replies. “You know I like my food spicy enough to hurt, so this doesn’t register on my heat scale.”

There’s a stretch of silence as I consider risking the safety of my tongue for a bite of the delicious-smelling taco. Only the memory of the last time I ate something a little too spicy running through my mind stops me from risking it. I don’t want to start huffing, sweating, and crying in front of the three of them as I battle the heat. Suvi had found it pretty funny, having a good laugh at my expense before she’d given me a glass of milk and switched our servings, which had clearly gotten mixed up. I’d laughed too, eventually, once my poor tongue had recovered. Though, for some reason, it feels far more embarrassing for them to potentially see me like that.

“It’s spicy,” Rio practically snarls, startling me as he snatches the plate out of my hands and shoves the box of tacos he’d been holding into my empty palms. There’s an even longer stretch of silence as the other two men and I all turn to stare at the grumpy-ass demon hunter questioningly.

“Did you just…” Daion trails off, shaking his head and deciding against whatever he was about to say. “Never mind.”

I glare at the tacos that have been placed in my hands. He was going to eat them, so why would he suddenly give them over to me? Are they poisoned, and was this his plan all along? If he is trying to poison me, is he trying to give me explosive diarrhoea or something much worse?

“Stop pulling those faces. I didn’t fuck with them. I just have no interest in listening to you bitch about how spicy the other tacos are. Those ones are mild, so they’re fine if you’re worried about too much flavour ,” Rio snaps, the way he spits out the word flavour making me lift a questioning brow.

“Weren’t you about to eat these?” I point to the box in my hand. “But there’s no more—” My words are cut off by Torrin sliding a little closer, bumping my shoulder with his own as he leans down a fraction.

“Just quietly eat the tacos before he changes his mind. He wouldn’t have done anything to them,” he whispers, and I nod at the sage advice.

Torrin makes a very good point. I really don’t want to have to hand them back over to Rio if they’re the only non-spicy ones for me to eat. Not giving him the chance to reconsider, I take my first bite, a small sound of pleasure escaping me when I find they’re as delicious as they smell. The chicken and guacamole melt together on my tongue while I chew; the only thing it’s missing is…

“Lime.” Rio places the quartered lime in front of me like he read my mind. I snatch it up greedily. My hesitance is all but gone now I’ve started eating, and the tastiness of the food is making me forget all of my concerns about potential tampering.

For the next few minutes, the room falls quiet other than the sounds of us eating and the faint music floating down from upstairs. I wonder what’s up there. More offices or maybe living space? It’s probably big enough for a decent-sized apartment. Did one of the three hunters leave the music playing, or is there someone else up there listening to it? I keep my curiosity to myself as I eat, deciding it isn’t really my business.

“We haven’t had much luck locating your demon so far,” Daion says, beginning his update once he’s finished with his own food, and I try to ignore the sinking feeling in my stomach that has nothing to do with what I’ve eaten. “I followed up with the hotel, as well as the club, but no one had any useful information on Ash beyond what you’d already given us. I couldn’t pick up on his energy signature, either, but it could have faded by now if he hasn’t been there since.”

“I accessed their security systems, but I couldn’t find any surveillance of him once you left the hotel that morning. There also wasn’t any of you going in with him the night before either. As far as the recordings are concerned, you left the hotel alone despite never entering it in the first place. It’s the opposite of the CCTV outside of the club, where you’re seen going in but never leaving,” Rio adds with a scowl, gesturing at Torrin to continue.

“I only heard back from Eli a few hours ago,” Torrin says, looking apologetic as he rounds up the update. “One of his contacts has responded so far, but they were a dead end. He’s waiting to hear back from at least two others, though, and he says he’s more hopeful that one of them will know something than he was about the first. They’re apparently a bit of a recluse, as much as incubi can be reclusive, so it was a long shot they’d know anyway.”

My lips press together tightly while I think over what they’ve said, suddenly finding the table very interesting. I’m avoiding looking at their faces, knowing how obvious the disappointment must be on my own. A lump forms in my throat as I try to swallow, knowing I should say something. I should thank them for their effort so far, at least, even if all I want to do is scream at the lack of answers they’ve found.

A warm hand rests on my knee and squeezes.

Torrin’s show of comfort breaks the dam. The feelings I’ve been trying to hold back come rushing out, overwhelming me. Elbows resting on my legs, I let my head fall into my hands as I take a few deep breaths in and out, staring down at my lap as the seconds pass slowly. It only makes me feel worse when they all stay quiet, waiting patiently for my response.

“Look, I knew finding him would take time,” I begin, my voice quiet and mournful as I force myself to look up. “I know I shouldn’t be upset he’s more difficult than expected to track down. It’s just…I’m nervous, I guess. What if you can’t find him in time?”

Ash might be the only one who can help me at this point. Until we find him, both mine and the baby’s fate are up in the air. The tears filling my eyes aren’t surprising, all things considered, but they do annoy me. I hate that I’ve lost all control over my own feelings. I try swiping them away with my hands, but there’s too many of them streaking down my cheeks for it to be very effective. I must truly look like a mess, as the last person I expect to show me any form of kindness, even after he shared his tacos with me, suddenly hands me a tissue.

“Thanks,” I grunt, dabbing away the rest of the water from around my eyes, trying not to smear my mascara. Judging by the black marks left on the tissue, I’m not entirely successful, but it could always be worse. At least this wasn’t a full-on noisy, snotty breakdown. I look at the crushed-up tissue in my hand, surprisingly grateful for Rio’s presence despite my earlier thoughts.

Maybe he’s actually not so bad. When he’s not trying to kill me, anyway...

A weird tingling passes over my skin, and the three men around me suck in deep breaths almost in unison. Rio and Daion rear back with wide eyes, while Torrin only grunts, his body briefly tensing next to mine before he forces himself to relax.

“What the fuck?” Rio snaps after a few seconds, jumping to his feet now he’s past his initial reaction to whatever the fuck has made them all suddenly act weird. He glares at me with hate-filled eyes. If looks could kill, I’d be dead and buried. It seems he’s right back to being a psycho then.

Oh well, pod person Rio was nice while he lasted…

“What?” I demand, looking up at the blond asshole, very much confused by the quick switch-up in personality once again. Has using the tissue he handed me somehow offended him? I look at it again, then at the men, deciding it can’t be that if Daion and Torrin are also reacting, if less emotionally than he is.

Fuck this, I’m so lost.

“Shit,” Daion murmurs, now standing as well. He glances at me, then at Rio, before putting a hand on his friend’s shoulder and ushering him away from me and out of the area. He practically pushes him around the corner and out of sight, but I still manage to notice his clenched fists and the…it couldn’t be fear on Rio’s face, right? It has to be anger. That makes far more sense. He has no reason to be afraid of me. I mean, he’s obviously the truly murderous one out of the two of us, considering he actually tried to kill me when we met.

“What’s happening?” I turn to ask Torrin, who shrugs dubiously. Despite his attempt at appearing casual, his concern for his friend is obvious, even if he trusts Daion to deal with it while he stays here with me.

“Honestly, I’m not entirely sure either,” he says finally, frowning as he looks me over like he’s trying to solve a particularly challenging puzzle, without having any luck doing so.