The Unlikeable Demon Hunter (Nava Katz #1)(57)

I slid my arms around Samson's neck, refusing to duck away from his stare. "Really."

Drio returned with more cigars. "Sorry 'bout that, man." He held them out to Rohan, but Snowflake didn't take them.



       
         
       
        

Drio jerked his thumb subtly at Samson, his eyes flicking to the bar.

I ran my finger around the rim of Samson's now-empty drink, then licked it off. "Get me another one?" I said, picking up on Drio's silent direction. "Whatever you're drinking."

Samson squeezed my side before standing up. "Definitely. After all, this is a celebration."

"Best day I've had in a long time," I purred.

Grinning, hands in pockets, Samson strode away.

"I'd say so," Poppy gushed at me. "All that time you'll get to spend with Samson." Her implied "and not Rohan" wasn't even subtle. I hoped she was a demon, too.

"I'll be sure not to forget my old friends," I said.

Rohan watched Samson go, his expression still annoyingly inscrutable.

"Ro? Cigar?" Drio asked.

Rohan took it, then launched into some anecdote about a tour mishap, using expressive gestures to punctuate the story. Everyone was so busy lapping up his every word that no one noticed Drio slip the stub of Samson's cigar into his pocket.

Drio winked at me.

All that business about Evelyn had all been a calculated performance, then? But why not tell me? I turned away and headed into the bathroom. As an armchair celebrity enthusiast, I knew that those in closest orbit to a star tended to indulge any and all bad behavior. What amazed me now, witnessing Rohan's little performance back there was that everyone had taken him seriously. They expected this ridiculous assholery from someone like him and found it acceptable. No wonder Rohan hated who he'd become back in the day.

I couldn't reconcile this version of him with the man I'd gotten to know. Though I couldn't reconcile anything I'd seen of him today with that man either, so what did I know?

A couple of women entered the bathroom, chatting in rapid Czech and snapping me out of my reverie. I reapplied my lipstick and got out of there.

Rohan was coming out of the men's room. The sight of him rocked a fresh wave of anger through me. I planted myself in front of him. "Congratulations, Snowflake. Really became the finest version of yourself back there."

"I can't take all the credit, sweetheart. I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you." His glittering eyes were at odds with his smirk.

I frowned. That jab was deliberately fired. "Right. Because rock stars are exempt from any personal responsibility."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Were your feelings hurt?" He ran his finger along my bare skin between my bandeau and the pencil skirt. This close in, I could smell the alcohol on him. Warm whiskey spice.

"Don't flatter yourself." 

"You chose your role. Play it."

I lifted his hand off me. "I have no problem playing it. But you seem to be forgetting where the act stops and respecting your team member begins."

He looked vaguely uneasy at that. "What about you respecting my personal history, lightning girl?"

Now it was my turn to squirm. "I did what I had to for the mission."

"Is that all it was?"

"Can't imagine anything else it would be about."

The Latin jazz that had been playing smoothed out into a bump and grind bassline under a woman's voice singing about retribution in six-eight time. My kind of lady. I stepped past Rohan but he blocked my hip with his.

"Where are you going?"

"Back to Samson." To have Brickie take me back to my hotel.

"He's a demon, sorry, alleged demon, who doesn't give a shit about you."

I white-knuckled my clutch. "Like you do?"

"As a rock star? I'm not supposed to. As Rasha?" He turned away, jaw tight, as if annoyed I even had to ask.

What about as a person? "Then show it and don't play games with your team members."

He braced a hand on the wall by my head. "I'm not the one playing games."

"You've been playing games since day one. I'm the one constantly trying to keep things clear between us." I smacked him once in the chest with my clutch.

"This from the girl who has no idea what she wants."

I blinked at that comment.

"No. Idea."

The groupie/rock star dynamic was abhorrent enough, yet I dealt with the public humiliation because of the mission. But this? This had gotten personal and I refused to become Rohan's personal build-up/tear-down culture.

I tapped his heart tattoo. "Should have made it larger. A big blazing emblem of what you so capably embody."