Page 16 of Demons of Eden

CHAPTER EIGHT

Swallowing 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’sflames 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 aseconddinnerat 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 theirfailinghunt 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 alongsideit. 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 forafterthe 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 almostsuspiciouslyclean, 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 fromme, 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.”

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