Reaver by Larissa Ione

here.
    The battle angel in Reaver leaped into action, rapidly taking a tactical measure of their
    surroundings, escape routes, and potential weapons. He and Harvester had the advantage if they struck
    first, hitting the enemy as they filed out of the crevice that opened up into the cavern.
    Calder, where the fuck are you ?
    He glanced over at Harvester, and for a brief moment he drank in the sight of her facing in the
    direction of the enemy, her expression feral, her lithe body squared for battle. The clothes he’d chosen
    for her left little to the imagination, clinging to every curve, every muscle. And to every bone that lay
    too close to the surface of her skin. He hated that her hips and ribs stood out so starkly.
    But she wasn’t afraid. After all she’d been through at the hands of demons, the only vibe she was
    giving off right now was the electric tingle of anticipation.
    She wanted revenge.
    Good girl. Hold onto that . “Do you have enough power to summon a weapon?” he asked.
    When she shook her head with obvious reluctance, he held out a dagger. “It’s a—”
    “Dragon Biter,” she finished. “I know. Goes through thick hide and scales like butter. I used to have
    one before it was stolen by a Bathag I let get a little too close to me.”
    “Why?”
    She looked at him like he was an idiot. “Why do you think? I wanted something from him.”
    “Sex?”
    She snatched the dagger from him. “Why does sex automatically come to mind?”
    The bear-toads howled, their bloodthirst carrying through the tunnels like a banshee’s wail and
    sending a chill up Reaver’s spine. “Maybe because you blackmailed me into having sex with you for
    twenty-four hours at some random time of your choosing?”
    A thick shock of hair fell over her eyes, and she thrust it back with an impatient shove. “You know,
    most males wouldn’t whine about having to have sex.”
    “Most males wouldn’t be having sex with you,” he pointed out, and were they really doing this
    when demons were almost on them?
    “Most males should be so lucky.” She reached into her boot and fished out a stone. “But does it
    really matter if I wanted sex from a Bathag?”
    No, it didn’t. But for some reason, he didn’t like the image that was now searing itself into his
    brain, of her rolling around with some pale-skinned, silver-haired mine-dweller.
    “I don’t care who you sleep with.” Another howl rang out, chillingly close, and he summoned his
    power, what little there was, readying it for battle.
    “You sound a little grumpy for someone who doesn’t care.”
    Her tone was singsongy, meant to goad him into a fight, but they’d have one of those soon enough.
    The steady pounding of running footsteps came from only a few yards away, and he put himself in
    front of Harvester.
    Who, naturally, moved into the path of the enemy.
    A bear-toad burst into the cavern a split second ahead of its master, its gaping maw exposing
    several rows of sharp teeth. Reaver hit it with a blast of balefire as it leaped at Harvester. The thing
    screeched and went off course, crashing through a stalactite before crumpling into a steaming pile of
    goo.
    The bear-toad’s handler, a fifteen-foot-tall demon from a species Reaver couldn’t identify roared
    with fury. Harvester hurled her blade, catching the creature in its throat. The Dragon Biter sprouted
    claws from the handle and sank them into the demon’s elephant-like hide. The dagger would now use
    its claws as leverage to push deeper and deeper, until either it came out the other side or the demon
    died.
    The demon didn’t seem inclined to die anytime soon. It came at Reaver with a weapon that looked
    like a crude cross between a sword and an ax, and with the first swing, it nearly caught Reaver in the
    chest. He leaped back, shoving Harvester out of the way as he fired off another round of balefire.
    The demon swung his blade, deflecting the cylinder of balefire and sending it into a