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"Is that how you met them?" I ask, smiling. I didn’t expect him to be funny, but he’s made me laugh a few times already, and he’s surprisingly easy to talk to. I’m going to be called away soon to go back on stage, but I’m aware the band is purposefully putting it off. They rarely see me flirt, despite how encouraging they are when it comes to my love life.
A little too encouraging.
"No," he says. "I met them at work."
"Right. You answered a help wanted ad, and what they wanted help with was demonic possession."
He laughs. "No, I was a resident in a teaching hospital," he says. "In Boston, where there are lots of Catholics. I met Luke because he was the hospital’s priest, and Misha was the social worker I dealt most with."
My jaw falls open. "The demonhunter is a social worker?"
"He was," Rei says, shrugging his shoulders. He’s turned so he’s looking right at me now, his pupils dilated until they’re practically indistinguishable from his irises. His skin is flawless, and the closer he gets to me, the more I realize that he smells like pine and sea salt. "I’m pretty sure his license has lapsed at this point."
"Fascinating," I say. "I have so many questions."
"Tell you what," he replies, flashing me a warm smile. "If you’re hungry after your show, I’ll take you somewhere to eat, and you can ask me as many questions as you want. No strings attached."
"Why?" I ask, and immediately kick myself for asking. I should’ve just said yes. It’s been too long since I’ve slept with someone, and it’s been never since I’ve slept with someone as good-looking as this guy.
"Because," he says softly, his voice dropping. "You’re right, Trine. You are fascinating."
I clear my throat. As much as I want to do this, there are practicalities to remember. I need to pack up my gear. I’ll be disgusting by the time this gig finishes. If he sleeps with me after a show, he’ll definitely remember it, and probably not in a fond way. I force myself to meet his gaze, already hating what I’m about to say. "I’m free tomorrow if—"
Bryony appears next to me immediately. I have no idea how she managed to close the space between us so quickly, but she’s right there, her arm draped around my shoulder and a big goofy smile on her face. "That sounds great," she says. "Don’t worry, babe. I’ll make sure your gear gets home even if you don’t."
"Wait, Bryony…"
"Great!" Bryony says. "You’re welcome. Nice jacket, by the way."
"Thanks," he replies. He’s obviously trying not to laugh. She winks at me and goes back on stage, leaving me in front of him, my cheeks burning.
"I’m so sorry about her," I say.
"Why? She’s great," he replies. "I love your friends."
I shake my head. I’m losing this battle. I drop my voice before I speak again. "I’m not sleeping with you tonight."
"I know," he says, inching close to me, his voice so quiet I have to strain to hear him. "Don’t worry. I don’t fuck drunk people."
"I didn’t know sobriety was a kink."
"If it’s a kink, it’s not my kink," he replies. "But if my partner wants to forget about the world, then I want to be the one responsible for it."
I’m ninety percent sure this man is trying to kill me.
And that night, I only drink diet coke.
