“Hey, I said the water smelled like ass, not you,” he says with a grin. “Though you did fall in the water.” He leans back and my eyes go to the intricate tattoos on his muscular arms.
“Where are we?” I ask. “I mean, I’m assuming this is your house, but, uh, where is it?”
“The neighborhood is called Emerald Ridge. It’s not far from where I found you in the woods.”
I nod. “I know the neighborhood. It was a big deal when it was built a few years ago since the woods from the barn butts up to this subdivision. We were worried they’d cut down all the trees or people would start bothering our horses.” I look around the living room again. The overly-done-farmhouse style isn’t my thing, and I highly doubt it’s Ethan’s either. He said he was here helping his father get settled because he had just started a new job.
“Your dad,” I start. “Does he hunt demons too?”
“Yep. It’s how I got into it. Most hunters are born into this line of work. It’s not typically something you’d choose,” he adds bitterly.
“You come from a long line of hunters then?”
“Not as long as some. My great-grandfather was the first hunter in our family. He was possessed by a demon and killed his first wife and children.”
“Holy shit.”
“Yeah. Hunters showed up in time to save him—you don’t live long after being possessed by a demon—and he joined the Order. He got remarried, had three hunter children of his own, and created the family tradition.”
“The Order?”
“It’s an organization of hunters called The Order of the Mystic Realm. Lame name, I know. It was founded back during the Crusades—supposedly.”
“Wow, impressive.”
Ethan shrugs. “Do you want me to take you home so you can shower?”
“Yeah, but, uh, not home. My car is at the barn. You don’t mind if Hunter goes in your car, do you?”
“No. I’ve had demons tied up in my backseat. I don’t mind a little dog fur.”
“It will probably be a lot of fur.”
“I’ll take my chances.”
“Can I have some pants?” I ask. “It’s frowned upon to walk into the barn without pants.”
“Frowned upon doesn’t mean illegal.” He stands and runs a hand through his hair, messing it up. “And yeah. I’ll get you some sweatpants from upstairs.”
“Thanks.” I move the blanket off my legs and stand up, but as soon as I’m on my feet, my head spins and stars dot my vision. I throw out my hand, trying to regain my balance, but trip over the blanket on the floor.
Ethan catches me before I crash into the coffee table. His large hands fasten around my waist as he uprights me, fingers gently pressing into my flesh. I have one arm around his shoulders with my other hand holding onto his bicep.
“You okay?”
“I got really dizzy all of the sudden,” I say, voice a little breathy.
Ethan slides one hand to the small of my back, pulling me against him. Heat comes off of him in waves, and I let my hand fall from his shoulder to his chest. “You used magic for presumably the first time today. It’s draining.”
“Right…magic.”
Hunter barks, startling me. I move closer to Ethan, and he tightens his hold on me, pulling me against him. I breathe deep, and my breasts crush against him. Fuck, it feels good to be pressed—get it together, Anora. Demons are after you, for fuck’s sake.
A door closes, and two blonde women come into the living room. They both look to be in their twenties and are definitely sisters since they look so much alike. They look from Ethan to me and then at each other.
“Seriously, Ethan?” one says, shaking her head. “We talked about this. I sit on that couch.” She shoots me a look, thinking Ethan and I just got done having sex on the couch. “Glad that lasted a whole three weeks. Should I get the Lysol?”
“Don’t be such a prude,” Ethan tells her, tearing his eyes off me. “This is Anora. Anora, that’s Sam and Julia.”
“Anora?” Sam’s brows hike up. “The chick you talked to like all night over the weekend?”
“How do you know that?”
Sam knocks on a wall. “Thin walls, Ethan. Though I’ll gladly be annoyed by you talking instead of having to hear you having sex.”
“Sam,” Julia scolds under her breath. “Oh, you brought a dog.”
“That’s Hunter,” I say, voice small. Hunter wags his tail, waiting for someone to come gush all over him. He’s a friendly dog