Page 21 of Demons of Eden

“Fae craftsmen,” Daion answers with a shrug. “The only downside to pre-juiced weapons like these, is it’s hard to tell exactly when the magic imbued into them will run out. I was assured these would last me six years of regular use, though.”

“When did you get them?”

“Three years ago. You should have nothing to worry about if you borrow them.”

“I can’t even use them!” I protest. He cannot be serious about me carrying these things around. I’d probably injure myself with them before landing a hit on anyone else.

“Everyone can throw a punch.”

I give him an unimpressed stare in response.

After watching how he hit the demon dummy, I have more than a little doubt about my ability to replicate it. The way he moves is both fast and vicious, showing even more physical strength than I’d initially given him credit for, and it’s not like I didn’t already think he was strong. Not with those shoulders and arms.

“I’ll teach you,” he concedes after a moment with a sigh, rolling his eyes like he can’t possibly believe my lack of fighting skills. “Put on the other one, too. You never know when your dominant hand might be incapacitated.”

“Not everyone gets into fights with demons all the time, you know,” I inform him while doing as instructed. I flex both hands once it’s on, and watch how the spikes grow and retract with the movement of my fingers. It’s both very creepy and totally badass.

Maybe these things aren’t so bad…

“You could have punched someone who isn’t a demon,” Daion points out. His voice sounds oddly amused, so I glance over at him, realising he’s been watching me stare down at the spikes.

“Are you implying I should solve my problems with physical violence?” I ask, putting on a show of mock horror as I place a hand to the top of my chest. Almost immediately, I’m pulling it away again because of how scratchy the outer material feels against my skin.Ugh.Cool or not, I definitely won't be wearing these unless absolutely necessary. At least they’re small enough to carry around without drawing attention.

“Are you really saying you’ve never punchedanyone, ever?”

“Sure I have, when I wastwelve, then I discovered how to use my words to solve my problems like a big girl—without the need for such barbarism,” I answer him sweetly. The unnatural honey to my tone must have alerted him towards my actual meaning as he gives me a doubtful look.

“And by using your words you mean?—”

“Cursing those who piss me off into losing their eyebrows? Yes, exactly,” I finish for him with an angelic smile. Okay, so maybe it’s more of a demented grin judging by his reaction to it. “I got really good at that as a teenager, and also pretty great at speed-growing my own to avoid the potential shame from retaliation.”

“Please don’t curse off Rio’s brows,” Daion says quickly, as if he’s afraid the reminder of my teenage methods will instantly make me want to use them on the asshole. “We’ll never hear theend of his whining. After they’ve grown back, he’ll probably still complain they’ve regrown wrong.”

“Are you saying yours and Torrin’s brows are free game, then?” I tease, totally not imagining the sheer joy Rio’s reaction would give me. It’s not as ifIwould be the one forced to listen to his complaints…

“Only if you think you can handle the retaliation, and we won’t opt for hair removal in our revenge,” he teases with a grin.

“Is that a threat? And against a pregnant woman, no less. For shame! You demon hunters are absolute scoundrels.”

Daion chuckles as he places his hands on my shoulders and gently pushes me over towards the punching dummy. “If you consider the idea of us eating without sharing a threat, then yes, consider yourself thoroughly terrorised.”

Wait. Withholding food?Now that’s absolute evil right there. Surely not even a demon would starve me, not while I’m pregnant with a demon spawn anyway…

“You really think Torrin would use pie against me?”

“Depends how prettily you bat those lashes when you say sorry,” he huffs amusedly in my ear as we come to a halt in front of the dummy. “Now, throw some punches at this thing and show me what we’re working with here. We’ll worry about activating the magic part once we’ve got your basic technique down.”

I clench my hand into a fist, not tucking my thumb in despite the physical urge to do so. I hardly want to break my thumb like a moron on my first try. After spreading my feet a little further to balance my weight, I lift my arm and start to pull it back.

“Straighten up your wrist.”

I pause at the instruction, then slowly turn my head to look at him so he can see me when I roll my eyes. “I thought I was supposed to be demonstrating my current level of ability?”

“Ability is too strong a word for that stance,” he mutters, but still gestures for me to continue.

I poke my tongue out at him, then throw a punch at the centre of the dummy’s chest. The face is too high for me to get a good hit on even if it does theoretically make a better target to aim for. Not that I would describe the hit I land on its chest as good. The help of the fae-crafted spikes isn’t enough to disguise how poorly I do either, as the spelled dummy doesn’t even flinch.

Before I can say anything to my defence, like a reminder of how this isn’t the way I usually spend my free time, Daion’s in my space. He nudges my feet into a different stance with his own before stepping up closer as he methodically repositions the rest of my body with his hands. I feel my face flame despite the almost clinical professionalism in his touch.

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