Chapter One

CHAPTER ONE

From her seat on the balcony, Larkin Yates heard a voice inside the VIP box screaming in delight, “It won! It won!”

Well, of course the hellhorse won. It always did.

Teague Sullivan’s steed was not only undefeated but considered to be the fastest of its kind. At the moment, it was also proudly holding its head high, exposing its elegantly arched neck. One of the racing stadium’s high-powered floodlights beamed down directly on the stallion, showing the steam wafting from its coat. A metallic black, the aforementioned coat was positively stunning and currently gleamed with a fine sheen of sweat.

Cheers rang out from the many spectators, particularly those that filled the tiered grandstand and stood behind the track’s perimeter fence. Few demons bet against Teague’s hellhorse, so there were rarely many boos.

Despite her foul mood, which was thanks to the annoying machinations of her friends and honorary brothers, Larkin found herself smiling when the stallion arrogantly tossed its long, lush, dark mane as it trotted off the track, swishing its high-carried tail.

There was something so very regal about hellhorses. They moved with grace and poise on those long, powerful legs, their sleek muscles rippling and flexing. They could honestly steal a person’s breath with how beautiful they were.

They could also scare the living shit out of a person. And not simply due to their all-black, wide-set eyes. Hellhorses were as predatory, conscienceless, and unforgiving as all demonic entities. Psychotic, too—as evidenced by their willingness to partake in this sadistic sport.

Hellhorse race tracks were full of nasty surprises, such as pits of bubbling lava or sharp spikes. The hurdles were high, wide, and dangerous to any who didn’t jump them just right. As such, a lot of pain was involved, and injuries were often severe.

So. Yeah. These entities were crazy.

Not that Larkin could judge. Her issue-riddled inner demon was all-out nuts.

Though hellhorses tended to suffer many wounds during races, few died. That was the thing about this most resilient breed of demon. They were quick to heal and hard to kill. Like really hard. She was quite sure they’d survive an apocalypse easily while every other living creature perished.

Breathing in the scents of dirt, horses, and concession food, she watched as the stadium’s staff members walked around the track, putting obstacles to rights and kicking clumps of fake grass back into place. All the while, she ignored the thread of delicious anticipation worming its way through her blood; she point-blank refused to acknowledge its source.

Gambling on hellhorse racing was just one of the many ways that demons could spend their time here in the Underground—a subterranean demonic playground located beneath Las Vegas. You could shop. Eat. Drink. Dance. Hit casinos. Watch shows. Partake in competitions. Stay at fancy hotels. Enjoy the fairground. The list went on and on.

And on.

As one of her lair’s four sentinels, she didn’t have as much spare time as the average demon. But she spent much of it in the Underground these days. Mostly to escape the irritating crap going on that was centered on her.

Hearing the glass door behind her slide open, Larkin felt her muscles tense. She had hoped to be left alone, and the people within the VIP box knew that well.

Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Piper striding toward her. Immediately, Larkin relaxed. The pretty dark-haired nightmare was one of only two people who weren’t on her shit list.

Piper gave her a soft smile, took the seat beside her, and held out a can of soda. “Here.”

Larkin tried returning the smile, but it was more like a grimace. “Thanks.” She took the can and flicked open the ring tab, hearing the liquid inside fizz slightly.

“I know they’re getting on your last nerve,” began Piper, “but they mean well.”

Larkin looked at her askance. “Did they push you to come out here and convince me to go talk to them?”

“No one pushes me to do anything.” Piper’s nose wrinkled. “Actually, correction: Levi tries it. I’m waiting for him to realize that it doesn’t actually work and never will. But we’ve been mates for nine months now and he hasn’t yet caught on.”

Larkin felt the side of her mouth kick up. Levi was one of her four honorary brothers. Like Tanner and Keenan, he was also a fellow sentinel while Knox was Prime of their lair. Each of the four males were all alpha . . . which had to suck for their mates at times, in Larkin’s opinion.

Take Levi, for example. He was not only Piper’s mate but her predestined anchor. Being extremely dominant and overprotective, the reaper did his best to maneuver the female tattooist and cover her in bubble wrap. Luckily for him, Piper found it cute rather than frustrating.

Every demon had an anchor—or psi-mate if you wanted to be more specific. It wasn’t an emotional pairing, merely a psychic one, though some demons did enter into relationships with their anchors. Whatever the case, they were extremely loyal to and protective of each other; deeply enmeshed themselves in one another’s lives.

The purpose of a psi-mate was to strengthen a demon and prevent their inner entities from taking over. Sharing your soul with a psychopathic entity had its trials, since they often pushed for supremacy, so turning rogue was always a possibility unless a demon bonded with their anchor.

Not all found their psi-mate, though. Larkin had, but she would have considered herself one of the lucky ones if things had played out differently. She wished she hadn’t found him at all, if she was honest. Because then she wouldn’t know what it was like to feel the mental tug of an anchor bond. She wouldn’t know what it was like to live without it; to forever feel its call. She wouldn’t know how it felt to be abandoned by this person who should have been one of the people closest to her.

Tanner had stumbled upon his own anchor long ago, but they hadn’t claimed each other either. It had been just as hard for him, but the bond’s call had thankfully weakened with each decade that passed. The call had vanished altogether when his psi-mate died.

Admittedly, both Larkin and her inner demon had moments where they wished their own anchor met a sticky end. Cruel, perhaps, but neither she nor the entity were forgiving creatures. For now, she was merely grateful that time and distance had dimmed the bond’s call.

“I’ve asked them to stop playing cupid. So has Khloë,” Piper added, referring to a crazy imp who’d mated Keenan. “But Harper, Devon, and Raini are convinced you’re unhappy. They figure that having a dude in your life—or, more precisely, an abundance of orgasms on a regular basis—will lift your mood.”

“I have a vibrator; it does the job just fine.”

Piper tipped back her head and barked a quick laugh.

“As for my mood, it will improve once the matchmaking stops.” It had begun shortly after Levi took Piper as his mate . . . leaving Larkin the last single person in their circle.

The instigator seemed to be Knox’s mate and anchor, Harper. But the sphinx had roped two of her best friends into her plan easily enough. Both Raini and Devon were massive contributors.

They’d signed Larkin up on demon dating apps, paraded single males in front of her, and practically shoved her onto the laps of men at clubs. They’d even given her cell numbers of ‘decent guys’ and pressured her into calling them.

Then, just last night, they’d asked her to meet them at a bar . . . only to not turn up but instead send a dude from their old lair in their place. Once Larkin had realized they’d set her up on a blind date with a perfect stranger—one who was clearly only looking for a booty call—she’d been furious. And she hadn’t been shy about telepathically expressing it to them.

Honestly, the way they all invested so much time into meddling in her affairs, you’d think they didn’t have busy lives of their own.

Larkin sipped some of her soda. “I resent that they seem to feel I can’t possibly be happy merely because I don’t have a man by my side.”

“They don’t think you need a guy to complete you or anything. Their feeling that you’d be happier if you met someone is really more of a reflection on how much happier they are for being mated.”

“I guess.” Larkin’s hand flexed on her can. “I can’t believe the guys are actually supportive of the cupid games, though. It’s not their style.”

Piper sighed. “No, it’s not. But when they look at you, they see what I see.”

“Which is what?”

“That you seem lonely.”

Lonely? Pfft. Larkin wasn’t . . . All right, fine, she felt a little lonely now and then. But demons weren’t built to be alone. Hence why they came in predestined pairs.

“The guys don’t like it,” Piper continued. “They want to fix it. So Harper managed to convince them that it would be good for you to have someone in your life. The guys are pretty picky about ‘who’, though. If they hear Harper talking about introducing you to someone they don’t approve of, they veto him right away. Or if they haven’t heard of him, they’ll make her wait until Tanner has looked into him.”

Larkin frowned. “What, like I’m a teenager whose potential boyfriends need to be vetted? If I’d ever tried doing that when it came to their sex lives, they wouldn’t have stood for it. Hell, I couldn’t even advise them on relationships or ask minor questions without them expressly telling me that it wasn’t my business.” Not a fan of double standards, she gave an annoyed shake of the head while her equally irritated demon hissed out a breath.

“I did point that out but, in their view, they’re simply looking out for you like all good brothers should. As I said before, they—”

“Mean well,” Larkin finished. “I get that. But this whole thing is embarrassing on so many levels.” She drank more of her soda. “Thank you for not jumping on the ‘let’s find the harpy a boyfriend’ bandwagon.”

“Hey, don’t get me wrong, I’d like for you to meet someone. But the bottom line is that you don’t like what they’re doing and you want it to stop. So it should stop.”

Larkin really did adore Piper. The newest member of their group had seamlessly slotted into it, even making a solid place for herself at Harper and Raini’s tattoo studio.

“Khloë has the same opinion and refuses to be swayed by Harper or the others,” Piper added.

“It surprises me that Khloë isn’t involving herself. I mean, she can quite clearly see that the whole thing is driving me nuts—she normally lives for that shit.”

“But taking part would annoy only you. Refusing to partake in it enables her to irritate several people. So she chose to go down the latter route.”

“Ah, I see.” Hearing the glass door again glide open, Larkin felt her muscles bunch once more. She looked over her shoulder. Speak of the she-devil. It was Khloë.

Although—like Piper—the imp wasn’t on her shit list, Larkin didn’t immediately relax this time. In fact, her pulse skittered. Because the petite, olive-skinned female wasn’t alone. Just behind Khloë stood the source of the anticipation that had been beating at Larkin. A source that was tall, inked, powerfully built, and possessed an air as untamed as the hellbeast with whom he shared his soul.

Teague.

Larkin had known in advance that he’d head up to the VIP box after his race. He always came to say hello to Khloë, who happened to be his anchor. They were so close that Larkin felt a pinch of envy at times. In truth, she secretly had a little thing for this male.

As his vivid, all-knowing hazel eyes locked on her, Larkin’s belly fluttered. Explicitly sexy and unquestionably alpha-male, Teague could walk into a room and instantly snare the attention of everyone in it. Add in his slow smiles, dominant posture, confident walk, and rich smoky voice, and he possessed an unchecked sex appeal that packed a real punch.

His short hair was the same onyx black as his steed’s coat. Dark stubble dusted his strong jawline and upper lip. Intriguing tattoos peeked out of the collar of his tee and crawled up the left side of his neck. More tats covered his chest and toned, ropey arms.

Usually, Larkin had no issue with making her interest in a male clear—she was no shy flower. But she hadn’t done so with Teague. It would have been pointless for two reasons.

One, Khloë had forbidden him from crossing platonic lines with her friends.

Two, he was anti-relationship. At this point in her life, Larkin was done with ‘casual’. She wanted what her friends and brothers had.

Still, trying to switch off her attraction to him wasn’t proving easy—and not merely due to the effect he had on her body. See, although he was a skilled seducer who came with a no-strings-attached mantra, he wasn’t a shallow sex toy.

Teague was genuine. Loyal. Made time for people. Never stood around complaining, criticizing others, or spouting negativity. He was quick to smile, and quicker to laugh.

Not that he was sweet. Nah, his moral code was somewhat skewed. He was as cunning as they came and completely unpredictable. Unstable, even.

Nonetheless, pretty much everyone enjoyed his company. Including Larkin. He was so desired that if he ever took someone as his mate, they’d be the envy of many. Including Larkin. It annoyed the holy hell out of her.

He annoyed the holy hell out of her. On purpose. And he thought it made them friends, the weirdo. Yet, she couldn’t help but like him.

Her inner demon found him something of a delight to be around—particularly since they both had that whole ‘crazy’ thing in common.

Right then, Teague gave her a slow, lazy smile that made her hormones a little dizzy. “Hey, pretty harpy. Have you missed me?”

“Every minute without you felt like a year,” she deadpanned.

He chuckled and, God, the sound was all smoke and gravel. More addictive than any drug.

“Congratulations on your win,” Piper told him.

Inclining his head in thanks, he prowled further onto the balcony with that steady, long-legged stride. It was the prowl of a hunter.

That was the other thing about Teague, his relaxed manner put people at ease. He was always so mellow and chronically unfazed by life. But underneath all that, there was an intense edge of something about him. Something raw and almost bestial.

It was like being around a caged zoo predator. They looked calm as they lazed in the grass or stalked the width of their enclosure. And yet, there was still an intense undercurrent of wildness about them. You never once forgot you were in the presence of something dangerous.

Larkin forced herself not to tense as Teague leaned back against the balcony rail directly in front of her, his gaze wholly fixed on hers. He did that a lot. Stared at her. She wished she could say she hated it, but there was a little thrill that came with being the center of his hyper-focus.

Her demon liked that he so boldly looked his fill—not a lot of people were bold around the entity. And for good reason.

Plucking at the dark hair she’d tied up in a messy swirl, Khloë let her gaze flit from Larkin to Piper. “What were you two talking about? Are you plotting something? Because if so, I want in on it. I don’t even care what it is.”

“We weren’t plotting,” said Larkin. “We were talking about you, actually.”

The imp grinned. “Best topic ever. Expand.”

It was Piper who elaborated. “I was explaining to Larkin why you’re not helping the others with the matchmaking extravaganza.”

“Matchmaking?” echoed Teague.

Khloë turned to him. “Yeah, the others are intent on pairing our poor harpy up with someone. Moreso the girls than the guys, but they’re all doing their part.”

Teague shrugged at Larkin. “If you want them to stop, just tell them you’ve met someone.”

She felt her eyelid twitch as annoyance surged through her. “What, like you do?”

A line dented his brow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Twice now you’ve claimed to women that you and I are dating just to get them off your back.”

He braced his hands on the rail behind him. “Okay, first of all, I can’t believe you’re still holding that against me—it happened months ago. And second of all . . . ” He trailed off, his brows knitting. “I can’t remember what I was going to say.”

She had no way of guessing what it might have been, because his thought patterns baffled her. He didn’t seem to think or reason like normal people. There was one thing she was sure of, though. “You don’t think you did anything wrong, do you?”

“If the situation was reversed, I wouldn’t have been mad. I’d have been happy to help you get people to stop trying to push you into parenting agreements.”

Larkin knew he constantly had female hellhorses pestering him in such a way. Like with hellhounds, the males of Teague’s breed rarely took a mate; they instead tended to father children to different mothers while forever remaining single. It was just their nature.

Hellhorses weren’t designed to be partners and full-time parents; their innate reason for being was simple—to be part of the Dark Host, hell’s army. Their loyalty was intended to primarily be to the realm itself, no one else.

“Look, in my defense, I didn’t think the women would tell anyone,” he added.

“Well, they told a whole lot of people.”

“And you got me back for that, remember? The jar of hell-ice chips in my apartment is evidence of it. They made my face ache and burn like a mother.”

He’d plucked the chips out and kept them as ‘mementos’. See, total weirdo. The fact that her demon found the memento thing cute irritated her even more.

Khloë lifted a hand. “Wait, that’s how the rumors of you two dating started?” Her gray eyes slid to Larkin. “That’s why you blasted him with hell-ice?”

“Yes.” It had been a cathartic moment.

“What about the time you blasted his ass with it?”

Feeling her lips tighten, Larkin crossed one leg over the other. “Oh. Well. Seabiscuit here told one of the women who wouldn’t leave him alone that I was pregnant with his baby.”

He raised his broad shoulders. “It just popped out.”

Larkin gaped. “How can such a lie merely pop out?”

“I don’t know, it just did. But people obviously know now that it isn’t true, considering that was, like, nine or ten months ago and you have no kid.”

“Yeah, I’ve had several people comment on my ‘pregnancy scare’.”

He sighed. “Come on, Lark, I apologized, remember?”

“No, you didn’t.”

His forehead creased. “I didn’t?”

“No.”

“Huh.” He shrugged, his frown smoothing out. “Then I’m sorry.”

“You’re not at all.”

“True,” he admitted with not one trace of sheepishness.

It was an honest to God’s struggle not to throw her soda at him.

“But don’t take it personally,” he continued. “I don’t think I’ve ever actually regretted anything in my life. Not sure it’s an emotion that’s on my spectrum.”

Looking from him to Khloë, Larkin shook her head. “And some people wonder why fate paired up you two . . . ” She didn’t wonder. The imp was as unstable and shameless as he was.

Piper hummed, thoughtful. “Well, Teague, I’d say you owe Larkin.”

His brows dipped. “Owe her?”

The nightmare gave an emphatic nod. “Yep.”

“I agree,” said Larkin with a smile, thinking of the fun she could have with this. “He absolutely does.”

“Also,” began Piper, pointing at him, “what you said before about her putting an end to the matchmaking by telling people she’s met someone? That idea was a good one.”

He flashed her a little grin. “Thank you.”

Larkin frowned. “It won’t be that simple, Piper. They’ll all want details, and I’d have to come up with some big story and invent a guy from scratch. No, thanks.”

“You don’t have to invent one,” Piper told her. “You can have a guy pretend to be your boyfriend. And this one here, well, he has a debt to pay.”

Larkin stared at her for a long moment. “Wait, what?”

“No, I wouldn’t make a good pretend boyfriend,” said Teague, scratching the un-inked side of his neck. “Trust me on that.”

Piper leaned toward him. “But just—”

“No.” Larkin slashed an arm through the air. “Not happening. No way am I spending more time around him than I absolutely have to.”

He gave a mock frown of offense. “That’s not nice.”

“You telling lies about me isn’t nice,” Larkin shot back.

“I apologized for that.”

“But, as you admitted, you didn’t mean it.”

He sighed again. “How about this? I regret that I’m incapable of regretting it.”

“If you don’t experience regret, you can’t possibly regret that you’re unable to feel regret.”

“Only if you want to get technical about it.”

Yep, she was totally gonna throw her soda at him. Which Piper must have sensed, because she laid a restraining hand on Larkin’s arm.

“Putting all that aside for a second,” Khloë cut in, turning to Teague, “you would make a terrible fake boyfriend—that much is true. But Piper’s right, you do owe Larkin. This would get the others off her back.”

Larkin shook her head. “I’m not even going to pretend to date a well-known hit-and-run.”

He cast her a distinct look of affront. “I’m not a hit-and-run.”

“Now you’re just lying. Again.”

“It’s a habit.”

“Break it.”

Khloë pursed her lips. “Granted, Teague is in fact a fan of hook-ups—”

“Which is a good reason for Larkin not to use me as her fake boyfriend,” he said. “Knox and the other guys in your circle wouldn’t want her dating me. They’d get all het up about it.”

Larkin paused with her soda halfway to her mouth. “Yeah, they really would.” And the thought of them het up about anything made her feel all warm inside. A little payback would be nice. Her demon smirked at the idea.

Piper looked at her, her pale-green eyes dancing with mischief. “They’d likely freak, though not outwardly. And yes, I can see that that thought fills you with joy. Personally, I think it makes sense to hop on this plan. It would be easier to pretend that he’s your boyfriend than any other guy, what with all the rumors that you two are involved. And who else is crazy enough to risk the wrath of Knox and the sentinels by playing this game?”

“It would work,” Khloë chipped in. She turned to Teague when he went to object. “It would also make female hellhorses stop hounding you to father their children.”

He stared at his anchor, his lips parted. “Yeah, it really would.” His brows dipped low. “But I thought you don’t want me sexing-up your friends. You made me take a blood oath not to date them without asking you first. Then, when I once joked that I was gonna find a nice girl and settle down, you made me take an oath not to seek anything serious from your friends.”

Khloë waved that away. “This wouldn’t be real. It would be an act. You could pull it off.”

“Yeah, I could.” He gestured at Larkin, adding, “But she couldn’t.”

Larkin’s back snapped straight. “Excuse me?”

He slid his gaze back to her. “You have those things. You know. Morals. You’ll feel bad lying to people you care about, and it will show. People will see right through your act.”

Both Larkin and her inner demon bristled at his dismissive tone. “If anyone will struggle to keep up the pretense, it’s you. Purely because you’ll get bored fast, and you won’t want to remain celibate—which you’d have to do, because I’m not dating someone who’s ‘cheating’ on me. As such, you’ll throw in the towel, leaving me hanging.”

“Wrong. I could pull it off. I could even do temporary celibacy. And I could keep both up for however long I needed to.”

“It would need to be for at least four months,” Piper interjected. “Five would be better.”

“Five?” echoed Larkin while Teague asked, “That long?”

“Yes.” Piper looked at her. “You want to make it seem like it’s serious, because then our cupids in there won’t go back to matchmaking when you two ‘break up’. They’ll feel that you need time alone.”

Khloë pointed her finger at the nightmare. “Good point.”

“Also,” began Piper, “maybe five months of celibacy will discourage him from ever again involving you in his lies, Larkin. If nothing else, it’ll make an excellent punishment.”

Hmmm, another good point. One that made Larkin want to smile.

“Five months it is, then.” Khloë looked at Teague. “Yes, you’ll miss sex, but you owe Larkin. You could stick it out that long, right?”

He exhaled heavily in resignation. “Right.”

“So could I,” said Larkin.

He arched a challenging brow at her and pushed off the rail. “Yeah?” Crossing to her, he leaned over and gripped the back of her seat, practically curling his body over hers. His eyes held hers as his psyche bumped her own, and then his voice flowed into her mind. You’d let me kiss you, touch you? Because that’s what I’d do.

Larkin forced a blasé shrug. It would look weird to people if you didn’t.

She just hoped he never sensed that her act wasn’t really an act; that she wanted him more than she’d wanted anyone in a very long time; that her demon would quite simply like to ravish him.

A dare glittered in those hazel eyes. “I say we make this more interesting.”

“Interesting?”

“If either of us calls it quits before the five months are up, they have to sing on the karaoke at one of the Underground bars, and they have to do it naked.”

Larkin felt her face scrunch up. “What? Why does there have to be a wager? And why did your mind even leap to ‘naked singing’?”

“Hey, if you’re not confident that you can win, that’s fine, we could skip the wager,” he offered, all innocence.

“I don’t worry that I’ll lose—”

“Then it’s all good.” He held out a hand. “We on?” It was clear that he expected her to balk at that and back out . . . which was the point of the wager, she realized. He was trying to pressure her into scrapping the whole thing.

As if Larkin would be so easily manipulated.

She shook his hand. “We’re on.”

The glass door once more slid open.

“What the hell’s going on out here?” demanded Tanner.

Larkin slid her gaze the hellhound’s way, finding him eyeing her and Teague with suspicion. The male who was curled over her didn’t straighten or release her hand. In fact, he gave her hand a little squeeze. She returned her focus to Teague only to see that he was staring down at her with a serious look on his face.

“Do you want to tell everyone, or should I?” he asked. “I’ve told you, Lark, I’m tired of being a secret.”

Oh, hell.

“What does he mean, Larkin?” Tanner asked, wary.

A pinch of humor briefly flashed in Teague’s gaze as he continued to stare down at her. Well, are we gonna do this or not? It’s okay if you’d rather back out while you still can.

She squinted slightly. He clearly thought she wouldn’t be able to pull this off; thought she’d stammer and blush and be so unconvincing that the others wouldn’t buy it.

He really should have given her more credit.

Teague almost chuckled at the brief glimmer of anger he saw in the depths of her eyes. Poking at a harpy wasn’t much different from taunting a rabid dog. Most people would likely swerve it, but he liked flirting with danger. Always had.

And this particular harpy was very dangerous. She had a reputation for being as pitiless and unforgiving as she was fearless. He could believe it.

Larkin was as cuddly as shattered glass. She could be rude and bitchy and standoffish. As if she saw no point in making a real effort with those outside her circle because she felt no need or desire to expand it. So, of course, he had fun trying to push his way into that circle. It was healthy to have hobbies.

He watched as a mask slipped over her stunning face. Her eyes warmed. The set of her jaw softened. Her mouth was no longer a flat line of annoyance—it smoothed out, regaining its usual lush shape.

She let out a long sigh and then nodded. “You’re right. It’s time we stopped hiding this; let’s tell them.”

Teague’s brows almost flicked up in surprise at how convincing that looked and sounded. It would be interesting to see if she could keep it up when she had to stare directly into the eyes of those she cared for and lie her phenomenal ass off.

He straightened and tugged gently on her hand. “Then let’s do this.”

She stood, squared her shoulders, and turned to Tanner. “We’ll talk inside.”

The sentinel’s wolfish gaze darted from her to Teague. “I’m not going to like this. I just know I’m not.” He retreated back into the VIP box, followed closely by Piper and Khloë.

Teague didn’t release Larkin’s hand. He kept possession of it as they trailed behind the others. This element of their deal—that he could touch her, hold her, kiss her—he’d for sure enjoy. Any male would.

She was built like an Amazon. Tall, strong, toned, round hips. Her maple-brown braid was long and sleek and intricately woven. He wanted to see all that hair free of ties and raining down her back. Her mouth . . . he’d had all sorts of fantasies about just what he could do with it.

In truth, Larkin was his own personal catnip, because she was a warrior through and through. One that was lethal and powerful and downright captivating. He had the distinct feeling that one taste of her would intoxicate him quicker than any liquor.

Her wide eyes missed nothing. At times, they were a striking gray-green, but there were some occasions when they became an equally striking gray-blue. It happened sometimes with harpies—the shade of their irises varied slightly whenever their inner demons were close to the surface. Like a warning system to those nearby. So whenever her eyes were gray-green as they were now, he knew her entity was close.

His own demon was often near the surface when she was around. It liked her. Liked how prickly and no-nonsense she was. At that moment, it was sending Teague mental images of the many indecent things it wanted to do to her.

Things that Teague would sure be happy to do to her.

But he hadn’t acted on his attraction to her for very good reasons, and it wasn’t solely about the oaths he’d made to Khloë.

Inside the spacious VIP box, he swiftly took in the position of every individual. Larkin’s Primes stood near the mini bar, talking among themselves. Their young son, Asher, sat on a seat beside Raini, swinging his little legs. Levi was eyeing the selection of finger foods on the buffet table while munching on a carrot stick. Devon was rolling her eyes at Keenan, who held her infant daughter away from his body as though she was a ticking bomb. The little girl was reaching for his face, wearing the cutest dimply smile.

Anaïs was approximately nine months old but, since demonic babies were more advanced than human infants, she looked more like a one-year-old. A hellhound like her father, Tanner, she had his liquid-gold eyes. Her hair was a short mop of ringlets that were the same ultraviolet color as her mother’s longer locks.

Devon sighed at Keenan. “Stop being a drama queen.”

The incubus frowned in affront. “There’s nothing dramatic about wanting to live.”

“Anaïs isn’t trying to kill you,” Devon insisted.

“She tries to kill everyone.” Keenan’s head jerked when the hellpup snapped her teeth at him. Anaïs then chuckled like a loon.

“She only placed her hand over your mouth to stop you from talking. It wasn’t an attempt to suffocate you.”

“Are you forgetting the part where she held my nose with her other hand so I couldn’t breathe?”

“That was a coincidence,” Devon upheld, but Teague noticed a few others furtively cast her skeptical looks.

“All six times she’s done it, it was a coincidence? Really?” Keenan’s voice dripped with disbelief. “And how about when she unsheathed her claws and went right for Levi’s eyes? Are you going to tell me that’s—dammit, Devon, get this kid’s teeth out of my arm.”

With another eyeroll, the hellcat crossed to him. She dislodged her daughter’s jaw from Keenan’s skin—and no, it wasn’t an easy feat—and then took Anaïs into her arms.

Rubbing at the little bite mark, Keenan looked at Tanner. “You need to do something about . . . ” He trailed off as he drank in the sentinel’s expression. “What’s going on?”

Tanner cleared his throat, earning everyone’s attention. “Apparently, Larkin has something she needs to tell us.”

All eyes turned her way. Eyes that were quick to drop down to where her hand was joined with Teague’s. The other adult males in the room predictably tensed.

She didn’t shy away from the scrutiny. She lifted her chin, set her soda can on the high table beside her, and then spoke. “Those rumors you heard that Teague and I are dating? They aren’t actually untrue.”

A stunned silence descended on the room. People glanced from him to her or exchanged looks. A short crackle came through the intercom followed quickly by an announcement, which seemed to snap everyone out of their shocked states.

“I’m confused,” said Knox, his tone as carefully neutral as his expression. “If the rumors hold truth, why were you so angry about them?” he asked her.

“Because I’d wanted to keep our relationship on the downlow for a while. You guys make it impossible for me to officially date people,” she added, sweeping her gaze over Knox and the sentinels. “You start sticking your noses in where they don’t belong and I didn’t want that to happen this time. I wanted to see if it could go somewhere without you interfering, so I kept it quiet.”

Hmm, she was much better at deception than Teague had expected. He kind of liked it.

She let out a sigh. “But Teague’s right, it’s unfair of me to keep him a secret. And I don’t want to hide it anymore anyway.”

Levi gave his head a little shake. “You two are together? Like a couple?”

She did a slow blink. “That is what it means to be in a relationship.”

Teague almost laughed at her wry tone.

“Relationship?” Tanner set his hands on his hips, his jaw clenched as if to bite back a curse—they made an effort not to swear in front of the kids. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” He cut his gaze to Teague. “Hey, look, I like you. I’ve got no issues with you as a person. But you’re not a guy who sticks around.”

“It’s different with Larkin.” Teague gently drew her closer to his side. “She’s important to me.”

Keenan looked at his mate, frowning. “Wait a minute, what about the oaths you made him take?”

“I was not happy that he broke them,” Khloë told the incubus, standing off to the side with Piper. “I just gave him a ration of crap about it out on the balcony. But he broke his word because he cares for her. I can’t be mad at him for that.”

Knox squinted at Teague, visibly suspicious. “You care for Larkin?” Again, his tone was even.

Teague raised his shoulders. “What guy wouldn’t?”

The Prime closed his mouth. Well, there wasn’t much he could say to that without seeming as though he didn’t agree, was there?

“Personally, I think this is all fabulous,” declared Devon.

Tanner glared down at the hellcat who was also his mate. “Fabulous?”

“Something’s been brewing between them for ages. I was beginning to think they’d never act on it.” Devon’s cat-green eyes flicked from Larkin to Teague. “I’m so glad you did.”

Raini nodded, smiling. “You make a cute couple. I always figured you would.”

Harper looked at Larkin, her mouth curved. “If anyone can handle Teague, it’s you. Sort of. Okay, I’ll rephrase . . . if anyone can handle the fact that he’s unmanageable, it’s you.”

“Hold the hell on here,” Tanner burst out. “There’s nothing good about this.”

“Agreed,” said Levi, his eyes hard. “I like you, Teague, I just don’t like you for Larkin. She needs a guy with staying power. When it comes to women, you don’t have it.”

Teague understood why they were so protective of her. Larkin might be fierce, but she had a softer side—a kind, compassionate, caring side that she exposed to very few people. He’d caught glimpses of it at times. “As I told Tanner, it’s different with her.”

Keenan arched a doubtful brow. “We’re supposed to believe that? Really?”

Larkin bristled. “Actually, you can believe whatever you like. He doesn’t need to stand here and convince you of his feelings or intentions. Don’t for a second think differently. If I’d have asked it of Khloë, you’d have freaked.”

The incubus offered her an appeasing look. “Lark—”

“I didn’t make this announcement with the intention of explaining or justifying it,” she stated. “I simply wanted to share it with you. And I’ve done that. Now I’m going to go.”

Harper took a fast step toward her. “No, wait, you don’t need to leave.”

“Actually, I do. Teague and I have plans.” Larkin skimmed her gaze over the other males and gave a prim little sniff. “We’ll talk more tomorrow at the office, I’m sure.” She cast Teague a quick look that was somewhat softer. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”