Page 2 of My Demon Hunter (Hell Bent #2)

1

C H OCOLATE T H ERAPY

Present Day

M ishetsumephtai selected a piece of popcorn from the bowl with careful claws. Setting the buttery morsel upon his tongue, his head tilted as he chewed. The flavor was bland, the texture crunchy and chewy at the same time. He could tell it held little nutritional value. And yet, something had him reaching for a second piece as soon as he finished the first.

“See?” the human beside him said. “It’s good, right?”

Technically, Eva was actually half human, but she had only recently discovered that.

“I don’t know that I care for it,” Mist replied, selecting a third piece.

“And yet you keep eating it.”

“I can’t seem to stop myself.”

Eva chuckled and then winced, shifting atop her pile of couch pillows with a hand over her abdomen. A movie played on the TV that neither of them were paying much attention to. “I think that means you like it.”

His eyes narrowed as he chewed his fourth piece. “I remain unconvinced.”

Eva shifted again with a muffled groan. “These cramps are a bitch.”

As far as Mist was concerned, she was clearly a human—angel blood or not, she still suffered from the agonies of the human female race.

“And this movie’s terrible, isn’t it?”

“It is difficult to grasp the appeal of watching humans that don’t exist struggle with problems that aren’t real.” He watched the on-screen couple regard each other warily from across a crowded room, both erroneously believing the other had said terrible things about them. “I have observed many real humans with real problems. I don’t see the need to invent new ones for entertainment.”

“Maybe it’s so we can dissociate from our own for a while.” Eva grabbed a handful of popcorn and consumed it with relish.

“Their issues could be solved in one conversation. Why are they incapable of basic communication?”

She laughed, though it ended with another wince. “Because then it wouldn’t be dramatic, and they would have trouble stretching out the storyline over an hour and a half. The writers would’ve actually had to create some sort of plot, and that’s apparently too much to ask in this case.”

Mist watched her grimace as she held her abdomen. “You appear to be in pain.”

She cocked a brow. “Ya think?”

“Where is your electrical blanket? Have you taken a numbing pill?”

She burst out laughing. “You crack me up, Mist.”

He frowned.

“I have my blanket here, but I’m sweating already in this heat, and I don’t want to be any hotter. And I already took a painkiller. But... there is something I want.”

“What?”

She closed her eyes, and a wistful smile overtook her face. “Ice cream.”

“Ice cream?”

“Chocolate ice cream. With chunks of chocolate. And swirls of chocolate. And sprinkles of chocolate.”

“That sounds like a lot of chocolate.”

“The more the merrier.”

“Perhaps you can arrange for Asmodeus to procure this for you.”

“It’s Thursday night, remember? He’s at Bootleg, and there’s no way I’m calling him back.” The jazz club Eva worked at had a weekly jam she and Asmodeus often attended. “I’m still amazed he went without me. I’m so proud of him for coming out of his shell.”

Mist tilted his head as he considered this. “Asmodeus is lucky to have you.”

“He is, isn’t he? I’m quite a catch.”

“Catch?” He frowned. “But you told me you were with him willingly. How can that be if he had to catch you?”

“No, that’s not—” She dragged a hand down her face. “It’s a figure of speech. Nobody caught anybody. That’s not how real relationships work. Everything is mutual and consensual.”

He supposed he did recognize the expression—demons could intuitively speak all languages and adapt current speech patterns to better blend on Earth—but he was inexperienced at human interaction. For all his many millennia of hunting, he had never conversed with humans until now and had much to learn.

Finding Belial and the other rogues had been easy, but instead of returning to Paimon as instructed, Mist had broken the rules again. Eager to experience for himself the freedoms the rogues enjoyed, he had offered them a deal. In return for sheltering him and teaching him about humans and how to interact with them, he would not reveal their whereabouts, nor Eva’s forbidden existence.

Angel-human hybrids, called Nephilim, were considered an abomination. Angels would exterminate them on sight, and demons would capture them for the magical properties of their blood. Once Mist had realized what Eva was, he had used that information to secure his alliance.

A month and a half had passed since the commencement of his temporary vacation, and, thanks to Eva’s instruction, he’d since discovered humans were not as simple as he’d always believed. For example, if he wanted a human friend—they were called “friends,” not pets—it wasn’t as easy as picking one out from a crowd, though he still thought it ought to be. He was a powerful, immortal being. Humans were small and weak, with short lifespans.

But Eva had told him he had to see them as equals and learn to appreciate the nuances of their differing personalities. He had to learn to tell them apart.

“I have an idea,” she said, smiling mischievously. “You go.”

“Go where?”

“To the dep. For ice cream.”

“What is a dep?”

“Depanneur. Corner store, Quebec style. Ice cream supplier extraordinaire.”

He sat upright. “You want me to go to the store?”

She nodded.

“But—” He looked down at himself.

His skin was ash gray, his fingers tipped with claws, every tooth in his mouth a razor-sharp point. His eyes were an eerie bright yellow, his pupils thin and slitted like a snake’s. His leathery wings draped off the end of the couch, and his tail curled in his lap, long and smooth like a coiled whip.

He looked nothing like a human, and, as a result, he would be invisible to them, thanks to the glamor that disguised the supernatural world from unsuspecting mortals.

Until he’d met Eva, he had never taken human form in all his long existence. He hadn’t needed or wanted to. His job was much better suited to a stealthy, invisible demon than a soft human with fleshy fingertips.

But something had shifted in him since the day he’d broken the rules for the first time, and try as he might, he couldn’t put it right. He was curious and restless and in search of something, though he didn’t quite know what. He just hoped he found it before he inevitably had to return to Hell.

“There’s a dep at the end of the block,” Eva said. “All you have to do is go there and get the chocolatiest ice cream you can find. The only person you have to talk to is the cashier.”

Mist twisted his claws together. “I would have to hold human form for the duration.”

“You’ve been practicing and you’re getting good. You’re ready for this.” When he still hesitated, she added with a smirk, “I think you’re scared.”

His spine stiffened. “I am the Hunter. I am not scared.”

“Tell that to yourself. I know you can hold on to your human form now, yet you always choose to stay behind when we go out. I thought you wanted to interact with humans.”

“I do,” he grumbled.

“Then challenge yourself. Go get me ice cream. Plus, hello, I have my period right now, and it’s your duty as a man to bring me anything I want.”

She was right, he realized. He was ready. He could do this.

He rose from the sofa and stretched his wings, stiff from sitting on them for so long. “I require a shirt.” He rarely wore them. For a winged demon, they were inconvenient, to say the least.

“You can borrow one of Ash’s if you don’t want to go upstairs.”

He was currently staying with Asmodeus’s brothers in an apartment on the floor above. He slept on a mattress instead of a cold stone floor, and in the morning, sunlight entered through his very own window. Belial often prepared him human food dishes to sample, and if he chose, he could do nothing but relax for an entire day. He had never experienced such things before, but he reminded himself constantly not to become complacent.

All of this was only a temporary reprieve.

Five minutes later, he was in human form, wingless and wearing a borrowed black T-shirt, and he and Eva had rehearsed his future transaction. She’d explained several times why he had to pay for the ice cream instead of just taking it, and he was beginning to understand. If nothing else, he would abstain from thievery to avoid attracting attention.

“You look great,” Eva said, smiling from her pillow pile. “You make a very handsome human.”

Though considerably shorter than his full demonic height, he was still taller than most humans, standing a few inches over six feet. His skin was bronze, and the brands hidden on his gray skin now looked like bold tattoos.

It was the thing he disliked most about this form. As a demon, it was easy to pretend the markings weren’t there. As a human, he had no choice but to be reminded of their existence every time he caught his reflection.

“Take one of my reusable bags from the basket by the door,” Eva said as he readied himself to depart. “And my keys so I don’t have to buzz you in. You can’t do your mist trick to get in since you’re supposed to be practicing being human, and that’s cheating.”

Agreeing to play mortal, Mist rode the lift down and stepped onto the sidewalk. There he paused, taking a deep inhalation of the humid summer air and double-checking that he still held on to his human form.

He ran his tongue over his teeth. Still flat. He checked the skin of his arm. Still light brown.

The darkness was illuminated by overhead lamps and light from the storefronts. Across the street, people were spilling out of a restaurant and lounging on the terrasse of a pub. Somewhere down the block, the sound of live music wafted on the hot breeze.

Someone walked past Mist, and their eyes traveled over him. They saw him. They were looking right at him and seeing nothing but a regular man. He headed down the street in the direction Eva had told him to go, confidence building with every step.

At the end of the block, right where she’d said it would be, there was a small convenience store with faded cardboard adverts in the windows for beer and ice cream. Steel bars intersected over the panes of glass, and an array of cigarette butts littered the ground outside. Overhead, a neon sign read “Dépanneur Au Coin,” though the lower half of all the letters had burnt out.

It was beautiful. A shining example of current human consciousness. Paradise, compared to anything in Hell.

Taking a breath, he entered the store, all his hunter instincts fixed on locating the ice cream freezer.

Lily Donovan stared at the row of dreadful, delicious chocolate bars and questioned her life choices.

How the hell had she come to be standing in a dep at ten thirty on a Thursday night, debating which sugary monstrosity to consume alone in her apartment?

Well, she wasn’t quite alone. She was babysitting her sister’s grumpy cat, and she had his charming company to look forward to. Grand. Just grand.

After finishing university last year, Lily had searched high and low for a job in her field of environmental engineering, but nothing had seemed to fit, and no one had been particularly interested in what she had to offer. Or maybe she was just terrible at job interviews.

Whatever the case, a year later, she was still making all her income selling her clothing designs online, and she was beginning to wonder why she’d bothered torturing herself with four years of university and student debt in the first place.

She shook her head at her negative thoughts. She tried hard never to fall into the mire of self-pity, but sometimes it was hard not to. Some days—like today—no matter how hard she tried to be strong, her mind seemed determined to self-destruct.

She had friends, but she’d refused all offers of socializing in favor of staying home with Grimalkin and her sewing machine. She’d accidentally-on-purpose missed her yoga class today, only to end up in this dep perusing the chocolate bar selection. And she could already tell that later, after indulging herself, she was going to have a hard time silencing that stupid whispering voice in her head that made her feel guilty about it.

She was healthy; she knew she was. She ate well, she exercised, and most of the time, she liked her appearance. Her body type just wasn’t what society had deemed ideal, and she was constantly bombarded by subconscious messaging that told her she wasn’t worthy unless she looked a certain way.

Her sister said she was “curvy” or “thick.” Lily didn’t care what she called it. At the end of the day, she still ended up sewing all her own clothes because the ones she liked never came in her size. The heroines in her favorite movies never looked like her, and any product designed for a woman of her build was for the purpose of weight loss or “slimming.”

Annoyed with her spiraling thoughts, she snatched a chocolate bar off the shelf, going for the only fair-trade option this depanneur sold. She may have been in a mood, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t make ethical purchases when possible.

She grabbed two for good measure.

And then decided to get a bottle of wine while she was at it.

Heading down the aisle to the alcohol section, Lily stopped in her tracks when she saw a man at the end staring determinedly at the Ben & Jerry’s freezer.

He was tall. Very tall. Taller than most tall people, and she definitely wasn’t one of those. And he was broad, his muscular back and shoulders stretching his black T-shirt in all the right places.

As she watched, he dragged a hand through his mop of messy black hair, the ends brushing his shoulders.

Normally, she would have been attracted to a man like that, but right now, she was mostly just intimidated. It was a healthy response for a woman alone at night with no badass self-defense skills.

Unfortunately, the wine selection was right beside him.

It was either brave proximity to the muscled giant or forgo the wine. And she wasn’t that cowardly, nor did she actually expect him to have any ill intent toward her. In all likelihood, she was just paranoid, and he was a perfectly nice man who happened to have won the genetic lottery for height and enjoyed going to the gym.

Plus, she really wanted wine.

Taking a breath, she headed down the aisle, stopping beside him. She tried to study the selection but couldn’t focus on anything except the looming presence beside her. All she felt was this burning intensity that made her heart pound and her palms sweat.

Deep inside, long-buried instincts suddenly flared to life for the first time in years, warning her that she was in the presence of something dangerous. All her assurances to herself about him being harmless were drowned out by her suddenly pounding heart. The labels and prices before her eyes blurred together in a stew of brewing panic.

Screw it, it’s all wine in the end. Snatching up a random bottle, she was seconds away from escaping when the stranger spoke.

“Excuse me.”

Oh god. He wasn’t talking to her, was he? No, he was probably on the phone. She hadn’t seen a phone in his hand, though. Maybe he had earbuds in, and she couldn’t see them. Bottle clutched tightly in her fist, she turned—

And stopped dead.

He was looking right at her, and he’d definitely been speaking to her.

This time, she felt the glimmer of attraction shine through all the trepidation. His eyes were incredibly beautiful. A warm amber, like glittering gemstones, and so bright they were mesmerizing.

His face was masculine yet elegant, his clean-shaven jaw square while his mouth was soft. His skin was tanned, and his hair was black. Somewhat more intimidating was the thick, black geometric tattoo encircling his neck like a collar.

She stared at him, though she knew it was embarrassing as hell.

“Excuse me,” he said again.

“Y-yes?”

This was the city. People didn’t make small talk with strangers in the city, and they certainly didn’t converse in depanneurs.

There was an unwritten rule that deps were safe zones. No matter what weird stuff you were in the middle of doing, nobody would bother you as long as you didn’t break any laws. You kept your eyes down, paid for your stuff, and got out of there unscathed.

Lily had been counting on that. She never would’ve braved a trip here if she’d imagined she would be forced to converse with a strange, gorgeous man.

“You are female,” he stated.

Her eyes widened. Okay, that was weird. And creepy. How did she extract herself from this?

At least he’d spoken English. Montreal was a bilingual city, but she hadn’t become fluent in French in the nine years she’d lived here. She’d been too busy trying to adopt a North American accent, and her disjointed French made her feel self-conscious, so she didn’t practice as often as she should.

“Um...” Was he going to proposition her? Try to assault her? Oh god, why didn’t she carry pepper spray? If she survived this, she would buy some first thing tomorrow. And why hadn’t she spent her entire life in rigorous martial arts training? In fact, why had she thought it was a good idea to leave her house at all? She should have—

“Which of these flavors has more chocolate?”

He held out two cartons of Ben & Jerry’s.

She stared at them, confusion overriding every other thought in her brain. “What?”

“I’m purchasing ice cream for a menstruating female. She demanded chocolate. But these both have the word ‘chocolate’ in the title, and I don’t know which she would prefer.”

Her eyes wandered from the ice cream back up to his striking face, which she stared at with amazement. He was completely sincere. This utterly gorgeous, tall, muscular man with neck tattoos was buying ice cream for his “menstruating” girlfriend.

Forget being afraid, she was in love.

Where can I get myself a man like that?

“Buy them both,” she said immediately. “That way she can choose one now and have more for later.”

His eyes widened. “That’s good advice.”

She found herself smiling, her earlier fear dissipating. “Well, I’m an expert in all things chocolate.”

“You enjoy it too?”

She nodded and held up her chocolate bars with a sheepish smile.

“You should buy ice cream as well.”

“Oh no, I can’t. That stuff goes straight to my hips, which are big enough already, thank you.”

His gaze slid down her body. “You’re very small. I don’t see a problem.”

She wanted to melt into a puddle and ooze through the cracks in the faded linoleum. “Small in height, sure, but not in width.”

He blinked, gaze returning to her face. “I don’t see a problem,” he repeated.

She stared at his puzzled look. Did he genuinely not understand why she would care about her size? Her gaze flicked to a faded advertisement on the wall beside them of an ultra-thin, bikini-clad model licking an ice cream cone suggestively. There were images everywhere of what their culture thought the ideal female body should look like, even here in this crummy old dep. How could he have failed to notice any of that?

He turned from her then, opening the freezer and grabbing another carton of ice cream. She expected him to try to give it to her, but he didn’t. It seemed he wanted to be certain he got the right one for his girlfriend.

Whoever this girl was, Lily hoped she appreciated what she had, because damn . A man who looked like that, buying a girl ice cream on her period? It sounded like something out of a romance novel.

There was an awkward moment of shuffling as they determined who would walk down the aisle first to reach the cash register. Or maybe it was just awkward for her. Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome just watched her with those hypnotic eyes as he stood back and waited for her to go first.

Cheeks flaming, she did, feeling his gaze on her back and hoping he wasn’t staring at her ass. Or maybe she hoped he was. No, she didn’t. But it wouldn’t be terrible if he was. Oh god, was he?

She paid for her Single Girl’s Night Alone supplies—all that was missing was batteries for her vibrator—cast a farewell smile to the hot stranger, and stepped back outside. The air was humid, the temperature barely any lower than during the day. Another summer heat wave.

She made it only a few steps before she heard, “Wait,” called out from behind her. Glancing back, she saw the mystery man standing outside, a reusable cloth bag in one hand.

He had gone to the dep prepared with his own shopping bag. Who was this guy?

Maybe it was foolish, but she stood and waited while his long strides ate up the distance between them. “Is it safe for you to walk alone?” he asked.

She stared at him. “Um, yeah, I do it all the time. Montreal’s a pretty safe city.”

He frowned, tilting his head in a way that she had never seen a person do before. A reptile, maybe. But not a person. “I would like to escort you for protection.”

She hesitated. Hot or not, there was no way she was letting some rando walk her home and find out where she lived.

His eyes widened suddenly. “But you should refuse because it’s not wise to allow a stranger to discover your lair.”

Her lair ? She almost burst out laughing. Wow, he spoke strangely, especially because he had no trace of an accent.

“Um...” She didn’t want to offend him, but he was bang on the money.

“You’re very smart,” he said, and this time she did laugh.

“Thanks. I hope your girlfriend likes the ice cream.”

“She is a friend that is a girl, a girl friend, but not a girlfriend.” His face scrunched up. “I find this term confusing.”

Another startled laugh escaped her. He really did say the weirdest stuff.

“That’s really nice of you to take care of your friend,” she said with a smile, utterly charmed by this strange, strange man. “Have a nice night.”

“This is for you.” He dug into the shopping bag and held out a carton of Ben & Jerry’s.

Her heart melted faster than the ice cream in this heat. He had picked the extra one up for her.

“It’s good to have things you enjoy. Human lives are short. It’s better to leave your mark on the world by being full of contentment than full of longing.”

Lily stared at him, tilting her head back to look into those beautiful eyes. Slowly, she stretched out a hand and accepted the ice cream.

The flavor was “Chocolate Therapy.”

She stared down at the silly little cow beneath the title and felt her stubborn bad mood finally melting away. He was right. She didn’t want to be the kind of person who spent her whole life second-guessing herself.

“Thank you,” she said softly, looking back up at him. He was a good six inches taller than her.

“I’m glad we met this evening.”

“Me too,” she replied, and she meant it.

With a single nod in farewell, he turned to go.

He made it halfway down the street before spontaneity seized her and she called out, “Wait!” just as he had to her.

He turned back, brows lifting in question.

“Maybe... I would like you to walk me home after all.”