Page 20 of Demons of Eden

“The torment of men?” I reply in an innocent, questioning tone, all but batting my lashes as I turn my best guileless look on him.

“You’re terrible.” He huffs playfully, rolling his eyes.

“Who, me?” I press a hand to my chest, feigning shock.

“Yes, you,” Torrin insists with a laugh before his expression turns more sombre. “Look, I don’t like taking things too seriously. I wouldn't want to end up like Rio after all.” He smirks at that, bumping my shoulder with his. “But after what Daion said, I think this is important to mention. Baseline humans aren’t strong enough for you to even try feeding on, and other demons are obviously off the table as they’re too risky. Most witches will be too, thanks to how our people typically feel about this kind of hybrid child. Anyway, what I’m saying is, if you become dangerously low on vitav, and we still haven’t found Ash, I would…”

“You’ll what? Take a bullet for the team? Let me fuck your brains out and drain you dry?” I finish for him with a cold, derisive laugh. A part of me enjoys making his hazel eyes go wide with shock. They’re so round it’s almost comical. I’m surprised it takes so little to unsettle him and decide to take pity on the poor guy. “Relax, I’m kidding. Listen, I appreciate the offer and everything, but I’m sure I’ll be fine without yourhelp.So maybe let’s focus on finding the father?”

“Yeah, you’re probably right. We should definitely prioritise that,” he agrees good-naturedly, still clearly taken aback by the quick switches in my mood.

I have to force a tight smile, my good humour having been evaporated by his obviously reluctant offer. Maybe it was a little bitchy of me to say it like that, but forgive a witch for wanting a man to fuck me becausehe likes me. Not pity-offering due to feeling some bizarre, misplaced sense of duty to keep me from dying.

“Definitely,” I echo a moment later, keeping the fake smile firmly in place.

CHAPTER TEN

“You know you don't have to do this, right?” I say for at least the tenth time since arriving at the Fletcher Hunting office this morning. If my words happen to sound whiny and out of breath, it’s hardly my fault. He has to be pushing me too hard or something. Otherwise, surely my body wouldn’t hurt this much already?

I’m not that unfit…am I?

“For the last time, Iofferedto help,” Daion replies, glancing over with an expression conveying a perfect balance of exasperation with my complaints and stubborn resolve to see this through.

Initially, I don’t think he truly realised I was complaining, and it wasn’t simply my way of trying to reassure him he didn’t need to take on the burden. Somewhere around the third or fourth time, polite reassurance had melted into confusion, and then by the fifth time, he’d started giving me the looks. The looks that said he’d clocked exactly what I was doing, and I wouldn’t be getting out of this. So, despite how much I may want to back out on his offer, it seems as if by initially accepting, I’ve doomed myself and now must pay the price.

“Are yousureall this exercise is safe in my condition?” I question pleadingly, giving one final attempt to escape the torture of Daion teaching me how to not get my shit immediately wrecked by a demon. The Goddess has clearly forsaken me. How else could fighting demons translate into running laps around the large training room hidden under their office building?

“I had help deciding exactly what to teach you from a woman who fought demons while pregnant. Not with a demon’s child in her case, but still, I think he was trouble enough on his own.”

I don’t know whether to be touched or concerned he specifically tailored this for a pregnant woman. It’s kind of him to take the time to help me protect myself, but how is this supposed to be an easier routine? If this is the pregnant beginner version of their training, I think I’d opt for a forever-nap in the dirt rather than try out the real thing.

Apparently, ever since hearing about our run-in with the demon at the antique store the other day, Daion’s been secretly working on this. Not only to teach me how to keep myself safe from random demons who may discover my condition, but also from Ash himself if it becomes necessary. Not that I think he’ll be a problem. Though, when I expressed as much, the hunter was all too quick to remind me how little I know about the incubus who knocked me up. It had been so embarrassing. It’s not great being reminded of how stupid I was that night, sleeping with some total stranger, without even asking what species they were. Especially when cross-species cultural exchanges of the horizontal variety can lead to consequences like the ones I’m dealing with now.

“Why is so much of this physical and not magical?” I complain with a huff, stretching out my cramping legs some more before he tries to show me some other ridiculous technique for dealing with the various types of demons. Once we’d passed the initial hell known as running, he’d forced me through morestretches than I’d done the one time Suvi and I tried out a yoga class. It was puppy yoga, though. So we spent the majority of our time cuddling adorable balls of fur and giggling at their cute antics rather than exercising.

Maybe we really should have tried baby goat yoga instead like she’d initially suggested. They couldn’t possibly be as cute and distracting as puppies, right?

“With your current vitav levels, it’s better you use as little magic as possible,” Daion answers, lips curling from amusement when he adds, “Plus, demons never seem to expect a witch to come at them with their fists, or with any otherworld-weapon that’s not a flashy sword.”

He had been quick to go into the different weaknesses demons possess and how to exploit them while we stretched. Who knew iracaedi have a weak point at the base of their necks? And that by stabbing it, even without a demon-killing weapon, you can temporarily block the flow of their power? Not that I know how he expects me to be able to get close enough in order to stab one of them there.

“Could that possibly be because they’re so much stronger, faster, and more agile than the average witch?” I ask dryly, trying to imagine how poorly it would go ifItried to fistfight a demon. I pull a face at the comical mental image of myself it conjures. It’s one where I’m far more pregnant than I am now, and I’m waddling towards a demon with a loud battle cry and flailing fists. Even in my imagination, I end up flat on my back in precisely two seconds.

I spare a slither of my magical energy to try and project the image at Daion, showing him how terribly I think it would go. A moment later, he bursts out laughing while pulling the black coverings, somewhat comparable to knuckleduster gloves, off from his hands. I guess he’s done demonstrating their use on the demon-shaped punching dummy. The insanely destructive-looking spikes had definitely given quite a show of what they can do, only the spells cast on the dummy had spared it from utter destruction. Crafted by fae using an insanely strong yet light metal from the demon realm and an armoured fabric of their own, they’re definitely a little deadlier than your typical knuckledusters. And that’s before taking into account their magical element, one he’d explained doesn’t requireanyof the wearer's own energy to use. Handy equipment for a witch with a tiny energy-sucker inside of her.

“They may have raw power on their side, both physically and magically, but by being sufficiently prepared any witch can learn to survive,” Daion says seriously while offering them over, once he’s done laughing at my mental projection, anyway.

I think I might be a tiny bit offended by how funny he found it. However, my offence is vastly overshadowed by how pleased I am that he picked up on the projected thought so easily. Considering we’re not used to each other’s energy signatures or mental presences, the fact he got it with so little pushing or prodding for attention on my end is…oddly gratifying.It being so effortless speaks to a certain level of natural consonance in our magical frequencies.

“Not win?” I ask, taking the not-quite-dusters and feeling for myself how light they are. The fabric part, covering from the bottom finger joint to halfway down the palm of the hand, feels silky soft on the inside and rough as hell on the outside. The spikes appear smaller now they’re not on his hands, less deadly. I pull one of them onto my hand, eyes widening at how the spikes instantly grow in size. I hadn’t noticed they could do that before, not having watched him when he’d pulled them on.

“You don’t have the time to learn how towin.Prioritise learning how to stay alive, call for help,and run.”

“Sounds about right.” I’m not surprised at being told I don’t have the time to learn, considering it takes literal years fordemon specialists to train. The running, however, I’m still not thrilled about. Though, I guess his reasoning does explain all of the laps he made me do, even if they’d felt like a punishment for my showing up late at the time.

“You ready to test those out?” he asks, bringing us both back to the task at hand.

“I’m still not sure how these work,” I admit, looking over them for runes or any other types of spell markings and seeing none. “How the hell do they imbue them with power without markings?”

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