Jordyn (A Daemon Hunter 1)

He nodded his approval. "You'll have to remove your shirt," he said in a businesslike manor as he snapped on a pair of surgical gloves.

Emrys looked at me appraisingly as I tugged my shirt over my head. I was used to training in my sports bra, so being without a shirt was nothing new, but Emrys's eyes read like an open book as he took in my tanned taut stomach and full chest. Everything inside me seemed to tighten in reaction to his stare. I gripped my shirt in my hand and moved it up to cover the front of my sports bra. My eyes clashed with his, challenging his blatant hound dog stare. He winked at me, making my insides turn to putty. I must not have been that hard to read either because he allowed his eyes to travel up my torso past my collarbone until they finally rested on my lips. Figuring two could play this game, I licked my lips with the tip of my tongue and bit back a laugh as his eyes darkened and his hand reached out for the counter to steady himself. He took a half step toward me and my knees trembled as the electricity we had been ignoring for the last few days rose to a sizzling fever pitch.

I was reminded we weren't alone when Anthony pushed a button on the arm of the chair, lowering the back of the chair down so that it was flush with the bottom of the seat. The humming of the chair cut through the electricity until it was a dull buzz.

"If you two are done eye-banging each other, I need Jordyn to lay flat on her belly," Anthony said dryly, pointing toward the chair.

"Right, it's E who's doing the banging," I said, acting indifferent. I tossed my shirt at the counter where Emrys's hand still rested, grinning wickedly at him as I lay down.

"Riiiiiiight, and I'm Batman," Anthony countered.

"I figured as much," I answered, my words coming out muffled.

"That demon tattoo is sounding like the way to go, or maybe a succubus," Emrys said under his breath.

Anthony barked out a laugh as he swabbed at my shoulder with alcohol.

"Don't you dare," I said, glaring at them over my shoulder.

"No moving," Anthony commanded as he switched on the tattoo gun and approached me. "Unless you want a tattoo you didn't sign up for."

I flinched slightly as the cold tip of the gun touched my skin. Surprisingly, although I felt pressure, it really didn't hurt all that much. Definitely not as painful as my recent tumble that had left my knees looking like raw meat.

I found the noise of the tattoo gun almost soothing as it hummed near my ear. Anthony and Emrys kept up a steady stream of chatter as I let my thoughts drift. Krista's hurt expression from earlier flashed through my mind as I finally allowed myself to focus on the mess I had left behind. The anger I had felt was long gone, only to be replaced with guilt. It wasn't Krista's and Mark's fault Haniel was keeping all of us in the dark. They had been kind enough to take me in on the heels of their honeymoon, and I repaid them by throwing a fit like a spoiled two-year-old. I needed to fix the mess I had left behind.

Feeling chagrined at my behavior, I made a move to sit up, forgetting I was in the process of forever marring my skin.

"What the hell?" Anthony griped, pulling the gun away from my skin.

"Sorry, my arm fell asleep," I lied, settling back down on the seat. Fixing things would have to wait.

"Some tough girl," Anthony joked, applying the gun to my skin once again.

"I could still take you with my arm tied behind my back," I answered as Emrys laughed in the background.

I shut my remorseful thoughts away and focused on the conversation Emrys and Anthony had resumed. By the way they talked, it was obvious they'd know each other for a long time, which made me wonder what Anthony thought of his ageless friend.

"How long have you guys known each other?" I decided to pry.

"Since I was a snot-nosed kid. E here stopped my old man from cracking my head in with a bat when I was nine. I took plenty of beatings before he showed up, but something about him showing up that day changed everything. My dad never raised a fist to me ever again. Never talked to me much ever again either, but that was a welcome respite. You don't miss being called a snot-nosed asshole, I'll tell you that. His silence was definitely welcome. It was like he was under some kind of mumbo-jumbo spell or something," Anthony answered.

I knew exactly what that spell was. It started and ended with a certain Soul Trader. The mental image of Emrys going to the effort to save a human's life chased away some of the guilt that had sprung up inside me. Haniel and the others were wrong about him. Emrys wasn't working for The Dark One. He couldn't be.

"Finished," Anthony said several minutes later, shutting off the tattoo gun.

"Wow, you're quick," I said, sitting up.

"I've heard that before," Anthony said, laughing.

"I bet you have, old man," Emrys said, clapping him on the back.

"At least I'm not forgettable," Anthony retorted, making me laugh.

Emrys mockingly glared at us as he threw a slow punch Anthony's way.

"You want to see your new beauty mark?" he asked, swatting Emrys's fist aside before it could reach his bicep.

"Absolutely," I said, hopping up off the chair.