Chapter Thirteen

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

One week later, Teague parked his bike outside his wagon and fluidly dismounted off it. As usual, with the exception of a sleeping Hugo, the dogs padded over for strokes as he removed his helmet.

The rest of the clan were gathered around the clearing eating breakfast and sipping from mugs. Well, all but Gideon—he stood in front of a bird box, his hands set on his hips.

“This isn’t funny,” Gideon snapped.

A raven’s beak briefly peeked out of the box’s hole. There were a few deep squawks and angry chirps.

“I’m not arguing with you about this,” Gideon declared. “Just give it back.”

More squawks. More chirps.

Gideon growled, balling up his hands. “Don’t make me come in there.”

“What’s going on?” Teague called out, stuffing his riding gear in his saddlebag.

Gideon turned to him. “One of the ravens swiped the last bit of my toast.”

“And you want it back?” Ew.

“It’s the principle of the thing.”

“Ravens are thieving little shits,” Leo chipped in from his seat at the bench, earning a squawk of complaint from the bird perched on a sleeping Hugo’s head. Leo tossed it a frown. “Well, it’s true.”

“They’re just bored,” said Saxon before biting into a bagel, ignoring the Alpha bloodhound that sat in front of him, licking his muzzle. The dogs were fed three times a day but never failed to ‘beg’ when others were eating.

Cupping his mug with both hands, Slade shifted slightly on the log beside Saxon as he eyed Teague carefully. “Spent the night at the harpy’s place again, did you?”

Yes. Just as he had every other night since he and Larkin had come to their agreement a week ago.

On a deck chair, Tucker shook his head. “This ain’t good, man.”

“Yeah, fucking her on the regular is one thing,” said Archer, sitting on a log across from Slade and Saxon. “Spending time with her outside of sex isn’t a little bit wise.”

Teague inwardly sighed. “I haven’t told her anything, and I won’t.”

“We’re not saying you have or ever would,” Saxon assured him. “But the more she’s around you, the more chance she has of picking up on something she shouldn’t.”

Tucker dipped his chin. “You don’t want that, T. We don’t want that.” He snatched back his foot as the raven who’d skittered its way from Hugo’s head to Tucker’s chair began plucking at the lace of his sneakers.

“She’s not going to pick up on anything, I’m careful.” And utterly unwilling to walk away from her just yet, so they’d need to deal with it.

“You’ve never had a problem taking such precautions before.” Finished his cereal, Leo drank what milk was left in his bowl. “What’s different this time?”

“You like her like her,” Gideon sensed, sinking into a deck chair.

Teague palmed the back of his head, exhaling heavily. “I do, yeah.” It seemed impossible for him not to. Everything about her drew him, compelled him, appealed to him. His inner entity coveted her just as much.

Leo placed his empty bowl on the table. “Look, I’m not trying to be an asshole here. The last thing I want to do is tell you to distance yourself from someone who you really like. But she’s Knox Thorne’s sentinel.”

“I know that,” Teague gritted out. “Don’t need the reminder. And if there comes a point where I feel she’s at risk of figuring things out, I’ll back away. Until then . . . ” He turned to head inside his wagon.

“Wait, before you go, we need to run something by you,” Gideon announced. “Something completely unrelated to the harpy.”

Teague slowly pivoted on his heel. “What?”

It was Leo who explained, “We’ve been tossing ideas around. And we think it would be good to set a trap for the shadowkin.”

Intrigued, Teague folded his arms. “What kind of trap?”

Slade smiled, setting his cup down on the ground—a cup Baxter immediately began sniffing. “One you’re gonna like.” He rubbed his hands together. “So, we were thinking that, given you killed the two shadowkin that came for you, Ronin is probably going to send even more shadowkin next time.”

Teague gave a slow nod. “I’ve considered that.”

“It makes sense for us to ensure that the next attack happens in a contained environment where it will go your way,” said Slade. “And what better contained environment than our own territory?”

“They currently can’t so much as step foot on it, thanks to the black salt,” Teague reminded him. “They have no way to penetrate the invisible shield it has created.”

“Ah, but we can change that.” Saxon ate the last of his bagel. “We can sweep aside just enough black salt to give them an opening, making it seem like an animal or breeze disturbed it—it’s highly probable they search our border periodically, hoping for such an opportunity. If you’re sat out here alone, they won’t hesitate to take advantage.”

Slade nodded. “They’ll step through the shield, unaware that we’re ready and waiting to close the gap behind them. Then they’ll be trapped and totally at our mercy.”

Teague swept his gaze over his entire clan, taking in the eagerness that glimmered in their eyes. “You feel left out of the action.”

“Yes,” Leo admitted.

Gideon nodded. “Absolutely.”

“It’s almost painful,” Archer added.

In the reverse situation, Teague would have been as keen to involve himself. He rubbed at the back of his neck. “Providing not too many shadowkin are sent for me, we should be able to kill them quickly and cleanly.”

“Where would be the fun in that?” asked Tucker.

And then realization dawned on Teague. “You don’t want to simply trap and then swiftly dispatch of them. You want to play with them.”

Slade lifted a finger. “If by ‘play with them’ you mean we hope to overpower them to such an extent that they flee in search of another opening in our border—thus giving us the chance to hunt them—then yes.”

Gideon shivered, excited. “I’m getting tingles just thinking about it.”

A sense of anticipation swirled inside Teague and roused his demon. It had been a long time since they’d hunted anything. Both had missed it.

The problem was that . . . “I don’t know if they’ll take the bait. They’ll be suspicious if I’m alone out in the open like the perfect target. They might be animalistic in their way of thinking, but they’re not stupid.”

Saxon frowned, thoughtful. “One of us could hang with you. You won’t be such an easy target then, but you’ll be vulnerable enough for them to feel that they can collectively take you out.”

Teague twisted his mouth. “That could work.”

“It will work.” Tucker tapped the armrest of his chair. “I say we do this tonight. I gotta feeling they’ll show later. We know not to ignore my feelings.”

Gideon bit down on his bottom lip. “You know, we don’t have to kill all the shadowkin. We could maybe release one of them; could have them send Ronin a message that will make him confront you that much sooner.”

Teague licked over his front teeth. “It’s a good idea, but I don’t know if our demons would pull back enough to let one live.”

Gideon’s nose wrinkled. “Yeah, there is that.”

“So, you up for this plan or what?” asked Slade.

Teague felt his mouth curve. “I’m up for it.”

Leo gave a nod of satisfaction and rubbed his hands. “Then let’s discuss it all the way down to the finer details, gentlemen.”

*

Standing in front of Knox’s office desk, Larkin looked from her Prime to Levi, who stood not so far behind him like a sentry. Their expressions were hard to read.

Although Knox mostly worked from the Underground, there were times he utilized his many other offices. As an owner of several hotels in Las Vegas—including the one they were currently in—along with countless other businesses, Knox had offices scattered here, there, and everywhere.

She’d been called to this particular office by Knox himself, who’d been pretty vague about the purpose of the meeting. He also seemed hesitant to explain, so she prompted, “Is everything all right?”

“Yes,” Knox replied, adjusting the lapels of his dark-gray suit jacket. “As long as you discount the fact that Holt contacted me and pushed for an in-person, one-to-one meeting. Hearing his voice tends to sour my mood considerably.”

Anger bubbled in Larkin’s stomach at how Holt had dared request anything of her Prime. “I can relate.” Big time. “Did he say why he wants to meet with you?”

“No, but I don’t think it would be a stretch to assume that he wishes to talk about you. I’ve consented to the meeting for one reason only.”

“You mean to intimidate him into flying home,” Larkin guessed, having suspected it was coming, given Knox’s lack of patience where Holt was concerned.

“Yes, because he doesn’t appear to have any intention of listening to you.” The Prime’s dark eyes turned flinty. “I will not have him harass you. I want him gone.”

“Don’t we all,” mumbled Levi.

Larkin planted her feet. “I want to be here for the meeting.”

“He might not speak freely if he knows you’re here,” Levi pointed out.

She flicked a look at the attached bathroom. “I’ll wait in there so he’s oblivious. I’ll be able to hear the conversation clearly.”

Knox gave her a firm look. “I’ll allow it on the condition that you remain out of sight. I respect that this is fully your business, but he won’t take kindly to my insistence that he leave Las Vegas. No Prime would. He may dig in his heels out of pride alone. If you are there, he will definitely resist—he won’t want to look weak in front of you.”

“I’ll stay in the bathroom and keep quiet,” Larkin promised. She had no desire to speak to Holt anyway. And as Knox had already pointed out, the cambion wasn’t hearing her when she advised him to give up the ghost and leave. Maybe he’d listen to Knox. “When is the meeting?”

“In half an hour, so I’d imagine he’s on his way here.”

Good. She’d rather have it over and done with. “Then we wait.”

It was twenty minutes later that Knox was informed of Holt’s arrival. Larkin went straight into the bathroom and closed the door. As Knox’s bodyguard, Levi remained with him.

From her hiding spot, she heard her Prime woodenly welcome Holt and one of his own guards inside the office. The sound of the cambion’s voice made her demon peel back its upper lip in distaste. The entity hoped he did something stupid enough to get himself killed by Knox. Their Prime would for certain allow her demon to join in the fun.

There was a creak of leather as Knox sank into his chair behind the desk and invited Holt to take the seat opposite him.

“I hope all is well with you and your lair,” said Holt, oh so very formal.

“Do you?” It wasn’t a question from Knox. It was a bored statement that rang with skepticism.

A male sigh. “I’ll cut to the chase, shall I?”

“That would be best,” Knox told him.

“I’m here to talk about Larkin.”

Even though she’d suspected that would be the case, she felt her lips flatten. Likewise, her demon huffed at his nerve.

“I gathered that much,” said Knox, his tone clipped.

A long pause. “I realize that you’re likely as angry with me as she is. You may even share her opinion that I should simply return to Canada and leave her be. But you have an anchor, Knox. Can you imagine not having her in your life? Is there anything that anyone could do or say that would make you agree to keep your distance, to forsake the bond?”

“Admittedly, I cannot imagine not having my psi-mate in my life. No one—not even her—could make me stay away. But you did stay away from your anchor, Holt. You turned your back on Larkin and the bond over thirty years ago, and you’ve clearly had no issue being out of her life all this time.”

Larkin’s thoughts exactly.

“Not true,” Holt objected. “It was incredibly difficult to keep my distance—”

“And yet, you did,” Knox pointed out. “You managed it well enough.”

“There was nothing easy about staying away from her,” Holt refuted, a hint of impatience breaking into his voice.

“Perhaps not. But you did it anyway. You placed your personal wants and needs before Larkin, before the anchor bond, and before what your demon must have wanted. No way would the entity have been content with being without her. You probably made it a promise that you’d one day find her; probably dangled that promise on a string to keep your demon from taking the situation into its own hands.”

“I always intended to come back—my entity knew that. It understood that we merely needed to wait until our old Prime was out of the picture. He made things difficult.”

Uh, no, Holt made things difficult. He was the reason they were in this situation. And Larkin didn’t believe that he truly had always meant to return. But she’d bet he’d assured his entity that he would in order to keep it under control, just as Knox accused.

“My demon is not going to let me walk away from her again. Not that I will, in any case,” said Holt, the words pure steel. “I won’t deny that I was selfish, or that I fucked up majorly years ago. I won’t even dispute that she deserves a better anchor than me. But whether you like it or not, Knox, I’m the only psi-mate she’s ever going to have.”

“So?”

“So my hope is that you will facilitate a meeting between me and Larkin. My attempts to speak with her in public were fruitless. She might be more inclined to hear me out if she is in a place where she feels safe. If you wish to be present, I will not object. I merely wish to talk to her in an environment where we won’t be interrupted.”

That motherfucker. He thought to go around her like this to get his way? Thought he could manipulate her Prime into pushing her to talk to him?

Knox’s mind touched hers. I don’t suppose you’re open to that?

Not in the slightest, she replied.

“She would never agree to it, and I won’t force her,” Knox told him.

“You don’t know for sure that she wouldn’t consent,” Holt objected. “And I’m not asking that you force her. Only that you speak with her. She listens to you.”

“She does. But why would I tell her to give you time out of her day? What have you done to earn that?”

“Not one thing. But I’ll do what it takes to make up for that.” He said it like it would be easy enough.

Larkin could only shake her head in wonder. It was like he had no true concept of how significant psi-mates were, or no real grasp on why his past actions should have upset her so much. She wasn’t sure exactly what blocked him from fully appreciating the situation, but it was something.

“If she was to agree to a meeting, her partner would wish to be there,” Knox tossed out, no doubt to see how Holt would react.

Seconds of silence went by. “If that’s what she wants, I won’t object,” Holt finally said, a slight strain to his voice. “You can throw any number of conditions at me, Knox. I’m not going to be difficult about this. The important thing to me is that I get to speak with Larkin. That is all that matters.”

“If only you were so determined to bond with her all those years ago . . . ”

“As I said, I was selfish back then. I didn’t make her my priority. I regret that more than you can ever know.”

“I’m not so sure you do, or that you’d make her your priority now either,” Knox told him, echoing her thoughts. “From what I can see, your personal situation might have changed, but you haven’t. If you hadn’t seen her from afar not so long ago—”

“I still would have come for her,” Holt insisted.

“Maybe. But I fail to understand why you seem to think that’s all that counts. It has no meaning for Larkin at all.”

“If I could just speak to her—”

“You’d try to manipulate her, just as you did when you returned home years ago without first bonding with her,” Knox finished, a distinct chill to his voice. “You thought she’d chase you. Back down. Make concessions. You thought that leaving would put you in a position of power in terms of negotiations. Only it didn’t, did it?”

Holt hesitated. “I expected her to contact me, yes. But my leaving wasn’t an attempt to manipulate her. My Prime called me home.”

“A Prime who intended to use her to learn all my private business. What did he promise you in return?”

“Nothing.” Holt paused. “He indirectly threatened to demote me if I failed to turn her loyalties.”

“And instead of protecting her from him by urging her to remain in my lair, where he couldn’t reach her, you did as he asked. In doing so, you tried using her to get what you wanted . . . just as he did.”

Exactly. Holt might claim to look down on his ex-Prime, but he was really no better than that power-hungry, people-using old bastard. He just didn’t seem to see it.

“It wasn’t like that,” Holt asserted, his voice hard-edged.

“Oh, that was exactly what it was like,” said Knox.

Silence fell, rubbing her impatient demon’s nerves raw.

“She could turn rogue without the bond,” Holt threw out. “I’m her one chance at ensuring that it never happens. Surely you’d like for her to have that assurance. You know as well as I do that her demon is bolder and stronger than most. So if you won’t try to facilitate a meeting as a favor to me, one Prime to another, at least do it for her. It’s in her best interests, and you know it. The sooner she and I hash things out, the sooner we can move forward. Dragging it out isn’t helping anyone, least of all her.”

“You don’t get it, do you?” There was another creak of leather, and she wondered if Knox had leaned forward in his seat. “You’re fighting a losing battle, Holt. She doesn’t want you. She doesn’t want the bond. Neither does her demon. Both would sooner live with the risk of turning rogue. That’s how badly you fucked up. There’s no fixing it, no going back.”

“If she and I could only have a proper conversation—”

“It would make no difference.”

“You don’t know that,” Holt clipped, his words thick with irritation. “Knox, she needs me.”

Larkin gaped. Needed him? What planet did he live on?

“No, Holt, she doesn’t,” Knox stated. “Plenty of demons never find or bond with their anchors, they deal with it and manage to still lead full lives. So will Larkin. Besides, she has a different sort of anchor. Not a psi-mate, but a person who steadies her and her demon in ways that only partners do.”

Larkin suspected that Knox only made the claim to poke at Holt. But in truth, Teague actually did give her that balance, just as Khloë did for Keenan, and Devon did for Tanner.

“Maybe that’s the case right now, but it won’t last much longer,” said Holt, a gritty quality to his voice. “Everything I’ve learned about Sullivan tells me that he’s never in it for the long haul. He prefers the sowing-of-oats lifestyle.”

“He may not have a good track record where relationships are concerned, but he isn’t a man who struggles with commitment,” said Knox. “He’s fully committed to the people in his life who are important to him, including his own anchor—one to whom he is also utterly loyal and incredibly protective of. You know, you could learn a few things from Teague.”

Larkin felt her lips tip up, knowing Holt wouldn’t have taken the latter comment well.

“I didn’t come here to discuss the hellhorse,” said Holt, curt. “No, you came here in the hope of gaining my support.

You thought that, what with you being a fellow Prime, I’d be inclined to play nice with you.” Knox paused. “I don’t play nice with people who hurt those who matter to me.” The words were delivered in a silky smooth tone but dripped with malice.

A heavy exhale sounded that vibrated with annoyance. “Then this was a waste of time.”

“As was your coming all the way to Vegas. Larkin doesn’t need you, Holt. She’s perfectly happy as she is. You should have just left well alone.”

There were more creaks of leather, and she got the sense that both males had risen from their seats.

“Now,” began Knox, “I suggest that you, your bodyguard, and any other demons you may have brought with you go book yourselves a flight home. And by suggest, I mean insist.”

“I can’t oblige you in that,” Holt stated, a defiant edge to his tone.

“Oh yes, you can,” her Prime insisted. “And you will. Because you wouldn’t want to face the consequences.”

A pause. “You’re threatening me?” The words came out soft and low but were laced with anger.

“I would have thought the answer to that was clear. I didn’t butter it up, did I?”

Another pause. “It’s a mistake for you to be so confident that you’ll walk away the victor if you and I come to blows. You’re not the only demon who wields a lot of power.”

“Oh, there are others,” Knox allowed. “You’re not one of them. A duel between us would end badly for you, and that show of weakness on your part would lead to you being usurped. You made a lot of sacrifices to become Prime. It would be stupid of you to throw your position away. But, by all means, do exactly that. Making you suffer will be most cathartic, and I’m sure Larkin’s demon will enjoy assisting me in that.”

Long moments of silence went by. If she had to guess, she’d say that Holt was struggling to admit to himself that, yes, Knox was right. The cambion was no match for him.

“Go back to Canada, Holt. Forget about Larkin. Focus on yourself. It shouldn’t be too difficult. You’ve been doing it for years.”

Larkin smiled at that.

There were two sets of footfalls, the opening of a door, the mutters of voices, and then the door once more closed.

“You can come out now,” Levi called.

Larkin exited the bathroom, her gaze immediately seeking out Knox. “Well, that was unpleasant. Do you think he heard you? That he’ll heed you?”

Her Prime twisted his mouth. “I got through to him. That I’m certain of. But it’s difficult to say if he’ll heed my warning or not.”

Levi scraped a hand over his jaw. “Did anyone else find it weird that Holt—a Prime who would never willingly look weak—basically threw himself on the sacrificial altar?”

She nodded. “Oh, it was definitely weird. He’s proud and arrogant. He’d want Knox to view him as an equal. But he came in here, admitted all his failings, and asked for help with a personal matter. That’s not very Holt-like, or Prime-like.”

“It’s possible that he isn’t pursuing the anchor bond for the reason he claims,” Knox mused. “He’s an incredibly ambitious demon. We all know that. We know he uses people. We know he plays power games.”

Larkin narrowed her eyes. “Why do you suspect he’s truly here? What do you think this is really about?”

Knox dragged his teeth over his lower lip. “Politics. I learned yesterday that he’s been having some difficulties with other lairs. Bigger lairs who seek to overtake his. He has alliances with Primes, but not many. He knows he’d never get an alliance from me, even if you two were bonded. I would never trust him. But I think he believes that him being bound to you would at least make the other lairs back off.”

Having a total ‘aha’ moment, Larkin nodded. “They’d think that you wouldn’t like anyone screwing with my anchor; that you’d defend Holt. And the idiot probably figures he could also be sure that you’d never act against him if he was psychically linked to me.”

“Unless the situation was extremely dire, I would never harm your anchor if you were bound to him,” said Knox. “Because to do that would be to harm you emotionally. I would want to preserve our familial relationship even if you switched to his lair. He will know that.”

Feeling her lips press into a tight line, she folded her arms. “This is why he’s acting so reasonable and self-flagellant and offering to make all the sacrifices. He’s in a real hurry to get me to cooperate. He won’t be prepared to lose his seat of power—he spent too long striving to get it.”

Levi rubbed at his nape. “As much as I hate to say it, yeah, I think Holt is mostly here for political reasons. That’s not to say I think you don’t matter to him, Lark. I believe you do on some level. It’s just that—as it was before all those years ago—his ambitions matter more.”

Maybe it should have hurt Larkin to realize that her anchor yet again sought to use and manipulate her for his own gain. Her demon was outraged but, honestly, Larkin only felt tired. She was just so done with his bullshit.

“You don’t have to give me pitying looks,” she told Knox and Levi . . . because that was exactly what they were doing. “I’m not upset.”

“And your demon?” asked Knox.

Larkin licked her lips. “It’s thinking up yet more ways to make him cry.”

“Can’t say I blame it.” Knox licked over the edges of his upper teeth. “What I said to him sank in. He really did hear me when I said that you don’t—and never will—want anything to do with him.”

“So you think he’ll cut his losses?”

“I do. He’s tenacious, but he’s not delusional. He won’t waste his time or energy on something that will amount to nothing. And he’d be a fool to stay away from his lair too long when there are other Primes coveting it.” Knox put a hand on her shoulder. “It may be that this is over; that he finally leaves you in peace.” A dangerous glitter entered his eyes. “And if he doesn’t . . . well, we’ll together make him wish that he did, won’t we?”

Oh yes, they damn well would.