Chapter Fourteen

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

How’s the mysterious clan thing going?

Teague didn’t outwardly react as Larkin’s voice slinked into his mind later that evening. He remained sprawled in the deck chair with his eyes closed and his arms folded, feigning sleep. Not as eventful as I’d hoped, he replied.

For over three hours, he and Leo—who was lounging in the chair beside his, also pretending to be out for the count—had waited impatiently for some shadowkin to attack. The rest of their clan were taking cover in the nearby shadows, ready to act at a moment’s notice. As ordered, the dogs lay near the pit, but they were tense, likely sensing that some shit might go down if Tucker’s ‘feeling’ could be trusted. Which it usually could.

What, there aren’t enough strippers?

Teague let out a telepathic snort. I told you earlier, it isn’t a party.

When he told her that he wouldn’t be able to see her tonight as he had ‘a clan thing to attend’, she hadn’t been annoyed or upset. Larkin never made attempts to monopolize his time. But when she’d asked a few general questions about ‘the clan thing’ and he hadn’t expanded, she’d gotten somewhat suspicious.

His harpy had prodded and poked at him a little more, fishing for details. He’d continued to gently bat away most of her enquiries and painted a very vague picture. That she hadn’t at all appreciated. Something she’d expressed by fisting his tee, hauling him close, and biting his jaw hard. She’d then told him that he wouldn’t find it so easy to hold her at bay, which his demon had liked a whole lot.

Teague should have panicked at the thought of her pushing for more room in his life. Instead, he’d felt a smile build inside him. Because if things were different, yeah, that was exactly where he’d want her. Unfortunately, it would never happen, though.

You said there’d be beer, games, and laughs, Larkin added. Sounds like a party to me.

Do you really think hellhorses would throw low-key parties?

No. Hence my strippers question.

Teague wrestled back a smile. Her comment had been lighthearted, but there was a possessive bite to her voice. He didn’t normally like women feeling territorial toward him, but he had no issue with it when it came to Larkin. It meant that the scales were balanced, because he was equally possessive of her.

There are no other women here, he swore. I’m not having even half as much fun as you seem to be thinking. Truthfully, I’d rather be at your place with you.

I’m not home right now, so you’d be hanging there by yourself.

Teague caught himself before a frown could tug at his brow. Where are you?

Not far from your territory, actually. One of the demons from my lair caused something of a stir at the little hellbull village. Tanner and I are handling it.

I take it there’s a lot of sniffing and posturing going on with Tanner and the bulls.

You hellbeasts are always swinging your dicks around. It’s tiring.

Teague again stifled a smile. What can I say? We—

A twig snapped. The dogs stirred. He went rigid.

Anticipation began to beat inside Teague, kicking his pulse into gear. He subtly drew in a long breath, and there it was—the distinctive scent of smoke and brimstone. His inner beast edged close to the surface, knowing the plan, eager to track and kill its prey.

There was a faint rustle of leaves, and then a whistle of alarm rang out.

Teague opened his eyes as he jumped to his feet. Four shadowkin stood several feet away. One had whirled to face Gideon, who was closing the gap in the shield with black salt. The other three humanoids were braced to lunge, their pure-white gazes sweeping over the men now surrounding them.

The dogs danced from foot to foot near the pit, awaiting the go-ahead to move and attack. Likewise, the ravens in the trees restlessly flapped their wings as they waited for an order to act.

We, what?Larkin prodded.

There’s something I gotta deal with, Teague told her as he and Leo joined the rest of the clan in surrounding the trespassers. I’ll speak to you again later.

Is everything okay?

Everything’s fine.

A vibe of wariness touched his mind. You’re lying.

Seriously, all is good. I’ll talk to you soon.Pinning his entire focus on the shadowkin before him, Teague clenched and unclenched his fists. It was easy to sense their panic by the tension in their bodies and the way their gazes couldn’t keep still. Yeah, they knew they were fucked, knew there’d be no escape, knew that death would soon take them.

“It was good of you to join us,” Teague told them. “Not very smart, though.”

One of the humanoids narrowed its eyes, and then an image of Ronin flashed in Teague’s mind.

“You’re merely following orders, I know,” said Teague. “But you’re not mindless puppets. You made a choice to obey Ronin. You came here with the intent to kill me. Go ahead and do it.” He paused, letting his mouth curve. “If you can.”

The humanoid squinted even more, and then it conjured an orb of hellfire. The crackling ball arrowed through the air with a whoosh of sound, heading right for Teague.

He dodged it, hearing it slam into something solid—likely a tree—far behind him. Everyone then sprang into action.

Flashes of amber and red broke up the darkness as orbs of hellfire sailed back and forth. Barks and squawks came from the waiting animals, the sounds almost overriding the hissing of flames, the sizzling of hell-acid, and the grunts and curses and laughs that flew out of the clan.

At first, the shadowkin tried focusing on Teague, apparently deciding to at least complete their mission so that their upcoming deaths wouldn’t be meaningless. And they got a good few hits in—landing balls of hellfire on his ribs, thigh, and shoulder. But the clan bombarded them with so many blows that it forced the humanoids to divide their attention to defend themselves.

The clan made no attempt to kill the intruders, only to wound and weaken them. But that didn’t mean they went easy on the shadowkin. They inflicted maximum pain, and they did it with no mercy.

A tentacle shot out of a humanoid’s side and whipped at Teague and Leo, knocking them both right off their feet. That same tentacle surged toward Teague’s throat only to be caught by Saxon—the male snapped his hand around it and then slammed it with a ball of hellfire.

The shadowkin sharply pulled back the tentacle in what was no doubt excruciating pain—a hit at such close range would be agonizing.

Teague and Leo sprang to their feet, both conjuring—

Hell-acid smashed into Teague’s chest. White-hot agony stole his breath and made the flaming orb in his hand wink out. A hiss escaped through his gritted teeth as the sizzling acid ate at his flesh almost hungrily. His beast puffed out an angry breath, making all sorts of violent plans of retaliation.

Glaring at the offending shadowkin that was now being attacked by Leo, Teague pitched a ball of hellfire through the air. The humanoid saw it coming and weaved, but not fast enough. The orb wacked its jaw, making its head snap back.

Teague grinned, and his demon let out a satisfied nicker. But then an unbearable heat clipped his ear as another of the shadowkin targeted him with hellfire. God, these little fuckers were gonna die hard.

As blisters pebbled his scorching-hot ear, Teague quickly threw one, two, three, four flaming orbs—not aiming for any humanoid in particular, just wanting to pile on the pressure and push them into tucking tail and running.

A few minutes later, he got his wish.

One humanoid fled. Two quickly followed it. The fourth backed away, blindly launching hell-acid orbs at the clan, but then it swiftly pivoted and ran.

Teague’s beast bared its teeth in disgust at their cowardice even though it was pleased they’d fled.

Smirking, Slade cricked his neck and did a languid stretch. “About damn time. Gotta say, I’m gonna enjoy this.” He flicked his hand, making any hellfire flames die away so that the fire wouldn’t spread.

“Let’s give them a five-minute head start,” suggested Tucker, whipping off his tee, getting ready to shift.

Removing his own tee, Teague winced as the burned cloth pulled at his rapidly healing wounds. He whistled at the dogs, who rushed to his side with whines of excitement. He pointed in the direction of the fleeing shadowkin. “Track.”

The hounds let out eager barks, and then they bolted.

Looking up at the ravens circling above him, Teague waved a hand. “Go.”

The flock disappeared in a rush, fast overtaking the dogs.

Naked, Teague took stock of his injuries. Patches of his skin were red-raw and peeling. Other patches sported blisters and scorch marks. They were healing, but not fast enough for his liking.

“I’d say the shadowkin have had enough of a head start,” claimed Archer.

Teague nodded his agreement. “Let’s go have our fun.”

Unease bolted through Larkin as Teague abruptly withdrew from their telepathic conversation. He hadn’t sounded anxious or hurt; hadn’t said anything that should concern her. But there’d been an undercurrent of something in his voice. A sense of battle-readiness that surely shouldn’t have been there.

Apprehension pricked at her nape, making the fine hairs there stand on end. Her inner demon slithered close beneath her skin, not liking this situation at all; not liking that his clan event might in fact be something dangerous.

She turned to Tanner, who was directing members of their Force to take away the demon they’d detained. “I have to go.” He didn’t need her—the matter was now resolved.

He frowned. “What? Where?”

“To see Teague,” she fudged, forcing herself to seem casual, not wanting to involve him. “Holler if you need me.”

Calling on her ability to switch forms, Larkin planted her feet. Smoke bloomed around her as everything that was her—clothes and all—seemed to whirl and melt before reforming and, in doing so, taking the shape of a harpy eagle.

Larkin gave her avian body a quick shake, fully settling into her alternate form, and then took to the sky. The cool air washed over her as she sliced through it like a bullet.

She wasn’t far from Teague’s territory. At the speed she could fly, it would take her mere minutes to arrive. Although she’d never been there, she knew exactly where to find it.

An aerial satellite view of the clan’s territory would reveal nothing—it seemed like an untouched stretch of land. But that was a mere glamor trick. And if you knew to look for glamor, knew how to spot it, it wasn’t so difficult to pick up the signs.

Larkin winged through the sky, skimming over treetops, her stomach churning with nervousness. It was very possible that she was overreacting. Possible that maybe two of his clan members had gotten into an argument and he’d simply broke off his conversation with her to handle it. But her gut believed differently, and she wasn’t about to ignore it.

It occurred to her that, whatever the case, he might not be so pleased she’d ventured to his territory to check things out; that he’d consider the situation a ‘clan matter’ and believe she had no right to involve herself. He wouldn’t be wrong. She was an outsider, after all. But she was also his girlfriend—which yeah, okay, he wasn’t yet aware of. That was beside the point, though.

The fact of the matter was that if he was fronting danger, she intended to have his back. Simple. He’d just have to live with it.

When she arrived at his territory, a slight buzzing sensation vibrated along her feathers as she passed through the repellent bubble of glamor. That was when, as if the bubble kept noise contained, ominous sounds reached her. Sounds of battle.

With an inward curse, she flapped her wings harder and upped her pace. She glided through the trees toward a clearing, able to make out with her eagle-enhanced eyesight—what the hell?—four shadowkin in the near distance quickly hightailing it out of there. The entire clan stood around, but none moved to pursue. They smirked.

“About damn time. Gotta say, I’m gonna enjoy this,” said one of the clan.

Uh, what now?

Her gut reared up and insisted she not reveal her presence just yet. Subtly landing on a thick tree branch not too far away from the clearing, she took in the scene up ahead of her. Took in the pack of bloodhounds, the large ravens, the wounded but happy hellhorses.

“Let’s give them a five-minute head start,” said another.

Head start?

A whistle from a stripping Teague had the dogs darting to his side. Dogs he sent after the shadowkin. Her head twitched in surprise when he did the same with the ravens. It was bizarre and unnatural . . . and . . . and . . . Oh, fuck.

Larkin’s feathers puffed up as realization hit her. Like a sledgehammer. Hard, fast, heavy. Every piece of the puzzle that was Teague slotted firmly into place as it all became clear. And it mentally knocked her sideways.

Her inner demon blinked rapidly, struggling to process it. Very few things took the entity off-guard. But this? Yeah, this rocked it.

“I’d say the shadowkin have had enough time,” proclaimed one of the clan.

Teague nodded slightly. “Let’s go have some fun.”

Almost as one, the seven men shifted in clouds of smoke and ash.

The hellhorses swished their tails and scraped the ground with their hooves. And then they were galloping away.

Larkin took to the sky again, staying high overhead where she wouldn’t be seen. She watched as the hellhorses split into four groups and dispersed. Two groups followed the sounds of baying hounds while the others tracked the squawking of the ravens.

The animals were circling each of the shadowkin in separate spots, she soon realized. The four humanoids hadn’t stuck together on fleeing—they’d split as they sought a route of escape. Why they hadn’t vanished through shadows and couldn’t seem to leave the clan’s territory, she had no idea.

The hellhorses expertly descended on the shadowkin and savaged them—biting, stomping, breathing fire, exhaling noxious smoke—in what seemed like a rehearsed fashion . . . as if they’d done it a thousand times before. And for Larkin, there was no denying that she’d been right in what she’d concluded mere minutes ago.

She circled back, leaving the clan to their ‘fun’. She didn’t leave the territory, though. Didn’t even consider it. No, she and Teague had some talking to do.

Would he want to talk? Likely not. At least not in regard to the subject matter she had in mind. But she wouldn’t be blown off this time.

She landed at the camp and changed back to her true form. Absently plucking at her tee, she drank in her surroundings, taking in everything from the wagons and the firepit to the hammocks and the small barn.

She’d expected to find cabins sprawled around the property; that each of the clan would want their own space as opposed to living close together like a herd. She really wouldn’t have guessed that Teague lived in an old traveler’s wagon.

But then, she also wouldn’t have guessed that he . . . God, this whole thing was surreal.

Perching her butt on a log near the pit, she rested her elbows on her jeans-clad thighs and rubbed at her face. So many times she’d pondered what Teague could be so determined to keep hidden. She’d explored endless possibilities; considered countless scenarios. But none came close to the actual truth of the matter.

Did she now understand why he guarded his secrets so closely? Yes. Absolutely.

Did she now understand why he hadn’t even hinted at those secrets despite that she’d parted with some of her own? Yes. Yes, though it nonetheless stung, she did get it.

Her inner demon, on the other hand, wasn’t so understanding. It had never liked that secrets stood between them and the hellhorse like a stone wall, and it felt entitled to know his private business. Which was totally unfair, but hey, that was how the demon rolled regarding Teague. It didn’t respect his boundaries because it didn’t want him to have boundaries when it came to her or the entity.

The demon wasn’t unnerved by what they’d learned about him. Nope. Now that the shock had worn off, the entity was simply somewhat miffed that it was only learning of this now.

Muffled voices and laughs drifted through the air.

Larkin slowly straightened and casually splayed her hands on her thighs as she waited. What happened next probably wouldn’t go well. The clan as a whole was not going to like that she was no longer in the dark.

Not that she worried they’d hurt her. Well, they were welcome to try. They’d die in the doing of it, though.

The ravens appeared first. Spotting her, they let out cautioning calls. The distant laughing cut off. The talking stopped. The footfalls hastened.

Larkin didn’t move from the log. She instead watched as the ravens settled on nearby branches, purposely surrounding her.

Soon, seven naked males prowled into the camp with panting but highly alert dogs walking among them. Quiet curses were spat and wary looks were exchanged as the hellhorses spotted her. They couldn’t yet know how much she’d seen, but they’d certainly be apprehensive all the same.

Larkin only really had eyes for the man in the center of the group. Teague’s own eyes were pinned on her. They were somber, dark, unreadable.

She’d rarely seen Teague without a half-smile on his face. Generally, he was all emotion. Now, he appeared closed off and devoid of feeling.

He looked at her as though she were a stranger. As if they stood on the opposite sides of some metaphorical fence. He made her feel shut out with his gaze alone.

Teague had made her feel many things over the years, but never shut out. Not even when he danced around her questions or diverted their lines of conversation—that had always been done in a playful manner.

There was nothing playful about him right now.

Her demon hissed, annoyed. It wanted to kiss him so hard his lips would bleed and he’d cease looking at Larkin that way. Not a bad idea.

Coming to a stop in front of her, he stared down at her. “How long have you been here?” His voice didn’t have its usual breezy tone. It was completely flat.

Larkin lifted her chin. “Long enough. You were never going to tell me, were you?”

Teague’s face remained carefully blank. “Tell you, what?”

She ran her gaze along the seven males. “That you were all once members of the Wild Hunt.”