Chapter 6

What I needed right now was a best friend I could crash with. What I had were tons of fellow partygoers and acquaintances.

The bus driver slammed on his brakes. I stumbled forward, whacking my head on the guitar case of the dude next to me. I'd had an awesome best friend in high school. Leonie Hendricks. It wasn't as if we'd had a fight or anything after grad. We still hung out. But Leo had jumped headlong into university while I'd bounced around for a few semesters before withdrawing.

My hand went for my phone. Maybe I could call Leo. I snorted. Yeah, right. We could catch up. Leo could tell me about her criminology classes and I could tell her that in an impossible twist, I was the first lady Rasha and newest member of Demon Club. Oh yeah, and that demons existed. Then she'd roll her eyes sadly at me making a joke of everything, finish our social call with polite small talk, and that would be that.

Well, that decided where I should go. A drink was in order. I headed over to my favorite business district pub for their pint and burger lunch special. A girl had to have a decent last meal, and the football-sized patties this place served would keep me full for a good twenty-four hours. Plus, the barkeep was adorable and amenable to flirting for free refills.

I sailed into the dimly lit interior with its multiple screens offering various sports replays set to classic rock blasting from the speakers, and seated myself at the scarred wood bar.

Josh, my barboy, grinned his hello. "Hey, beautiful," he said, all white teeth, platinum hair, and that unnatural level of pretty attained by certain actors. It was enough to give a girl an inferiority complex. "Haven't seen you around in a while. What can I get you and whatcha been up to?"

"Burger special and becoming the chosen one," I replied with a breezy flip of my curls.

"Sweet."

His attention reaffirmed my determination to stay far away from all things demon and unter. I was young. I had my looks. Why would I want to mess that up fighting nasty creatures from the bowels of Hell? Or wherever they came from, since they didn't exactly leave a home address and weren't just a Christian concept.

I know Buffy looked good killing vamps, but come on, even I could separate fiction from fact enough to know that a team of hair, makeup, and wardrobe experts were not going to be a perk of my gig. Besides, hunting would cut into my important to-dos like "be adored" and "get free refills".

I waggled my pint glass at Josh as he placed my burger in front of me, noticing he hadn't skimped on the fries. Salt and grease good. "Thanks, barkeep. What's new with you?"

Turns out he'd landed a small but pivotal role in Hard Knock Strife, some big-budget picture shooting here in Vancouver. Something about childhood buddies caught up in the lure of easy money. "That's worth celebrating," I said, raising my new full glass in cheers.

"Stick around till I get off?" He nodded at my backpack, stuffed on the seat beside me, which was ringing for the umpteenth time. "Or do you have plans?"

"Nope." I pulled out my phone and turned it off. But not before glancing at the screen. Seventeen messages all from my home number. My parents, not Ari. With a sigh, I shoved it into my hoodie pocket and threw him a coy look from under my lashes. "I'm all yours."

"I'm counting on it," he replied with a wicked grin.

Ladytown flooded like it was time to start collecting two of every animal. Whoa, baby. Praying that Josh was my golden O ticket, I found myself back at his place hours later, half-drunk, partially naked, and totally giving him the hand job of his life. Doing it for him, in hopes that he'd be able to do it for me. Honestly though, my thoughts pre-occupied me more than his cock. That I could work on autopilot.

"Maybe they chose me because of my attitude issues." I lay on my side facing Josh, my head propped in my free hand. "Though technically, the choosing happened when I was born so they didn't have any way of knowing how I'd turn out." I kept the details vague since there was no knowing if Demon Club would kill Josh for hearing top secret intel.

"Mmmm, yeah," Josh moaned, kicking his jeans off. His movement made the thin mattress bounce. His sculpted abs jiggled not at all.

"But what if that's why I'm such a dick? Such an epic failure. Because I was destined for something amazing and denied it." You talking dance or demon hunting, Nava? "You think I could sue them for existential pain and suffering?"

"Full-on." Josh thrust his hips in a rhythmic motion.

I rolled onto my back, my hand still working away. I'd always been a good multitasker. "I didn't ask for it. It's not fair for my brother to be so pissed off."

"Uh, babe?" Josh poked me in my side. "Discussions of brothers while your hand's on my junk? Kinda killing the buzz."

"Sorry."

He leaned over me, his eyes glazed with lust. "Think you could...?" He motioned for me to go down on him.

"Yeah, sure." My hand was getting tired anyway. I slid down his body. "Thing is," I began. With my mouth full, the words came out garbled and I guess I caught some skin because Josh flinched.

"Go back to the hand job," he sighed.

Geez, make up your mind. I shimmied back to my starting position. "I don't even want this. It isn't some lady-doth-protest-too-much shit either. The pressure would be insane. Everyone would be watching me, waiting for me to screw up. Plus the possible death of it all. I'm not big on that either."

A niggle of guilt prodded at me for dumping my problems on Josh, so I gave him a flirty smile. He shot me a heated look in response. Lust tumbled hot and furious down from my now-dry throat to much, much lower. I crossed my legs, squirming, as I stole another glance at him.

His face seemed to... flicker?-for a second. The line of his jaw blurring, his skin suddenly much furrier than his five o'clock shadow warranted.

I blinked and the room snapped into a sharp clarity. Just me and a gorgeous guy. But his serious sex appeal had me so lightheaded that all the color in the room bleached out briefly. In fact, I felt like I'd bleached out briefly.

"As I was saying... ouch!" My hand seized up. I shook it out and switched to my right.

My fingertips tingled. I amped up the speed, hoping he'd finish already. More than ready for my turn. I'd give up a kidney for an orgasm after the day I'd had.

Josh's eyes were closed, his breathing ragged. All positive signs for his happy ending.

Thank God, because my hand hurt. Had I pinched a nerve? I grit my teeth. Cramp or no cramp, I wasn't about to break my personal record of every man left satisfied. A girl had to have some skill she could be proud of, even if she couldn't put it on a résumé.

Josh let out a guttural moan.

Being well-versed in the nuances of guttural, I translated this one as "gold star, Nava." But my smugness fell away at the tugging pull starting low in my gut. Not a virulent food poisoning, all-out cramping, but more like my soul was being manhandled. I slowed down my strokes, rubbing my belly with my free hand.

Josh's eyes sparked like he was getting off more on my discomfort than on my expert dexterity. A prickle of unease danced across the back of my neck.

"Let yourself go, baby," he growled.

Please. He was hot but coming by osmosis wasn't a thing. I was overreacting. Josh wasn't a threat, just a douche.

Sweat trickled down my scalp and a sharp pressure rose through the fingers of my right hand, now cramped tight around his knob. I hadn't been jerking him off long enough to be this tired. Pain pulsed outward from the middle of my palm as if my synapses had started shooting electric bullets.

"Almost there," he mumbled. His hips were practically levitating they were lifting off the bed so high.

My belly twisted and I drew my knees into my chest for some relief, yet I couldn't stop touching Josh. The more I tugged, the more he moaned lustily, and the more I grit my teeth. My abdomen felt like it was a leaking tire, but I wasn't injured. More like with each stroke I was losing something essential, growing wearier, and I wasn't able to explain why.

Sparks flew off my hand.

Holy. Shit.

Josh's body flickered like a stuttering screen, revealing a ram's head.