Page 36 of Fury

Drawing a long pull of the beer, letting the carbonation zing and ping over his tongue and down his throat, he held back a laugh—at himself. No time for shyness. “Yeah, we’re close. Just the two of us.”

Eryn curled up on the couch. Comfy in her extra cozy clothes on the ancient piece of furniture, but her gaze was vague, wandering, a look out at the darkening evening. “That’s great. Does he live around here?”

“Back east, but he’s retiring, and thinking of moving this way.”

Eryn nibbled her bottom lip, her beer settled on her knee. Relaxed by all appearances, but she was as tense as he was. Demon hunters didn’t have heightened senses like werewolves and vampires, but they had damn good instincts.

His instincts were better than most. Probably inherited from his miserable grandmother. Not a spidey sense, as Quinn teased, but he knew things he couldn’t.

Like the fact that Eryn was ready to run like hell. It wasn’t a personal preference; it was a necessity.

Legs shifting underneath her, Eryn let her gaze land on him. A smile flitted across her lips, a hint of a blush, and she looked into the empty fireplace.

“My dad’s got a girlfriend.”

She leaned into her hand, fingertips gliding into her damp hair, and she shifted her part. The sound of her delighted laugh danced into his pulse. “And that’s a bad thing?”

“No. It’s great.” He glared into his beer before downing half of it. “But it’s weird. He’s old. Like, really old.” At two-hundred fifty, he was finally looking like he was pushing forty. “I’m supposed to call him tomorrow, and he will tell me more about her—but only if I fill him in on how my date went.” Fuck. Too much. “Well, about this not-date. He tries to understand, but I don’t think he can.”

Honey eyes settling on his, she didn’t flinch at his statement that this was a date. “Is this a typical date for you? Delivery that you have yet to order, beer on your ancient couch in this empty house—when I know you can afford nice furniture—and we’re both wearing over-the-top, I’m-not-trying-to-flirt clothes?”

He laughed under his breath. “Yup.”

“I mean, don’t get me wrong. This couch is ridiculously comfortable, the beer is my new favorite, and I’m not hungry. Oh, and I would rather see you in that t-shirt than the fancy suit.”

“I look hot in that suit.”

Eryn snorted a laugh and covered her mouth. “You do, but what can I say? I’m less into the slick look. Those jeans, barely hanging onto your hips? It’s like you’re trying to seduce me.” She fingered the rim of her glass and smiled with a delight and confidence that outweighed the awkwardness of the prelude to a casual sex date.

“Who are you? You are refreshingly blunt, in a good way.” He leaned back and propped his feet on the coffee table.

“I’m just Eryn.” She leaned back and set her feet next to his. Orphan, sister, physician. Maybe those accounted for the confidence, the independence, and the steadiness, but there was something else.

“I’m not easily surprised by people.”

“Nor am I. Right now, I don’t have the capacity for the delicate art of the get-to-know-you phase; thus, you are stuck enduring me as my unfiltered self. Sweatpants and all.”

“Good.” Fuck. Better than good. He gulped the last of his beer and walked into the kitchen. Damn demon hunter genes wouldn’t let him get even tipsy, well, not without a gallon of hard alcohol, but he could at least pretend the beer loosened him up.

Eryn wandered in from the living room.

He turned and grabbed another round from the fridge.

When he turned back, hands full, Eryn stepped close.

She rested her hands on his chest and traced down his abdomen until her fingertips teased at the top of his jeans.

The sensual, unexpected touch drove him out of his mind.

With a soft, devilish smile, honey eyes sparking with fire, she tipped her head to look up at him.

Unmoving, breath shallow and useless, he leaned a margin closer.

Rising to her toes, she hooked one hand into his waistband and rested the other on his chest. “I like you.” A mysteriously sweet smile lifted the corners of her mouth. “And I am very attracted to you. But I don’t get to have my cake and eat it too. Last chance. Are we casual friends, or are we neighbors who had sex that time?”

Breath rushed into his lungs and tangled in a useless mass. Mouths inches away, his dick demanding to make all the decisions tonight, he tried to speak normally, but rasped, “There is no good answer to that.”

She touched her lips to his, and lowered back to her heels.