Chapter Twenty

CHAPTER TWENTY

Teague signaled at the growling hounds to remain in place. They heeded him, their leg muscles quivering with the urge to pounce. Similarly, he let out a bird call to warn the ravens to hang back and stay alert.

Within him, his abruptly energized beast swished its tail and restlessly kicked up a hind leg. It was looking forward to the battle to come; was anxious for it to begin.

He telepathically reached out to Larkin. Quick warning, baby: Ronin’s come to visit.

Her psyche touched his, and a low curse drifted into his mind. I’ll be there as soon as I can. No more than twenty minutes.

Tracking the hounds’ gazes, Teague and his clan turned to fully face the section of trees wherein Ronin and whatever backup he’d brought had to be standing. Teague wasn’t worried that anyone would creep up behind them—the ravens would alert him if such a thing were to occur.

When none of the intruders showed themselves after long moments went by, Teague sighed. “We know you’re there.” He exchanged an eye-roll with Slade.

Leaves crinkled as footfalls finally came toward them, slow and easy; steadily increasing in volume. The whole time, adrenaline continued to pump around Teague’s body—sharpening his senses, feeding his anticipation, making his heart start to beat that little bit faster.

His beast was similarly amped up, thrilled the enemy they’d been waiting to confront was finally here. Especially since that enemy was Ronin. For most of its life, the demon had wanted the male’s blood. Wanted his fear and his suffering. The entity intended to get exactly what it had sought for so long.

Hell-born bloodhounds spilled out of the trees first, each unhurried step silent and stealthy. Baring their teeth, they came to a halt at the sound of a sharp whistle that came from the wooded area behind them. There were five bloodhounds in total. Far taller than an average dog, they sported red eyes, powerful jaws, and thick, black, ruffled fur.

Five carrion birds came next, noiselessly gliding into view and then settling onto a branch in a neat line. They eyed the ravens cautiously, their feathers fluffing up in affront as said ravens boldly stared at them.

Teague casually widened his stance as seven men prowled into the clearing, fluid and confident. They took only three steps before coming to a smooth stop, apparently intending to keep plenty of space between them and Teague’s clan.

Seven males. Five hounds. Five birds. Yeah, Ronin had brought his entire unit.

Teague found his gaze slamming on his half-brother. He hadn’t seen him in so long that, honestly, he’d forgotten the guy’s face—its features had been a blur in his mind.

Wide, dark-brown eyes that Ronin inherited from Soren were set into a square face that sported a crooked nose, dimpled chin, and thin lips. His sharp, angular jaw was currently hard and tight as he glared at Teague.

Skimming his gaze along the six men fanned out around Ronin, Teague noticed that two didn’t look particularly comfortable with the situation. But neither did they look on the verge of fleeing. The others stood with their chin up, their shoulders back, their posture cocky.

That wasn’t all. Oh, no.

Ronin had brought yet more company.

Hellish creatures were slowly pouring out of the trees to gather in a long line behind the unit of hellhorses. All stared at Teague and his clan through eyes that were flaming orbs embedded in over-pronounced eye-sockets. Their lips peeled back in a snarl, revealing long fangs that were coated in blood and thick saliva.

Motherfucker, Ronin had brought goddamn chupacabras.

Teague hadn’t seen any since leaving hell. It was rare for one to escape the realm. They resembled overgrown coyotes, though they boasted gray, leathery skin that had only brief patches of coppery fur here and there. Sharp spines protruded from their nape and ran down their back, stopping at the base of their long tail. They gave off a rancid odor similar to that of roasting, dead meat—Teague could smell it from where he stood.

Animals they might be but, like shadowkin, chupacabras were as intelligent as any human. They communicated through telepathy, and packs often offered their services for the right price. Ronin had clearly agreed to pay theirs.

I wasn’t expecting the chupacabras, said Archer, speaking through the clan’s channel.

They were indeed a surprise. Not that they worried Teague or his demon. The more, the merrier. Notice that there’s no shadowkin. I think we can guess what that means.

Yeah, Zagan must have lived up to his word and demoted Ronin’s unit, said Saxon.

It would seem so. If Ronin had still had authority over shadowkin, he wouldn’t have needed or bothered to hire chupacabras.

I’ve got to be honest,began Leo, my beast is looking forward to taking on those mangy little bastards. It’s been a while since my demon last stomped one to death. It likes the crunching sound it makes.

At Teague’s side, Baxter restlessly danced from foot to foot with an eager-to-get-moving whine. The other dogs let out aggressive little yaps and snarls, equally keyed up.

Laying a hand on Baxter’s head, Teague fixed his gaze on Ronin and said, “Maybe I’m being paranoid, but I don’t think this is intended to be a friendly visit.”

His neck seeming tight with tension, Ronin planted his feet. “You know, I never quite understood what my father saw in your mother. Pretty she might be, but she is so very fragile. Codependent. Weak.”

Well aware that the dick only meant to rile Teague up, he didn’t take the bait. “And yet, she has so much power over your emotions, doesn’t she? You invest so much hatred in her that it close to consumes you. Seems kind of sad, really.”

Saxon folded his arms. “I can guess that you’re here to kill us,” he said, his voice fairly dripping with boredom. “I’m curious as to why.”

“But you’re not shocked to see me here,” Ronin mused, “so I suppose one of the shadowkin made you aware that it was I who sent them, which means you also know that I became Master Huntsman,” he added, his chest puffing up.

Slade coughed out a low, scornful snort. “Zagan must have been having a weird day when he thought you’d make a good Master.”

A cord in Ronin’s neck seemed to twang. “He saw my potential.”

“He sure didn’t see that you’d abuse the Dark Host’s resources by siccing shadowkin on people like dogs to avenge private grudges,” muttered Leo. “You don’t think it was a chickenshit move to send them after Teague?”

“Chickenshit?” echoed Ronin, his chuckle strained and empty of humor. “If I in any way feared him, I wouldn’t be here now.”

Gideon raised an index finger. “Ah, but you’re not here for a one-to-one fight—you versus Teague. Are you? Nah. You’re not even here for a fair-and-square battle wanting to pitch your people against us. You brought mercenaries with you. Which brings us back to the whole chickenshit thing.”

“I don’t know, Gid,” said Archer, scanning the pack of chupacabras. “Maybe it’s not that he’s a chinless wonder. Maybe he just doesn’t think there’s a hope of defeating us unless we’re outnumbered.” He put a hand to his chest. “I personally find that a compliment.”

Ronin’s upper lip quivered as he looked Archer up and down. “The chupacabras are here for entertainment value.” He cut his gaze to Teague. “I will enjoy the sight of them tearing into you.”

“Weakening Teague, you mean,” Tucker put in. “That’s what this is about. You want to tire him out so you have an edge over him.”

Ronin’s eyes flared. “Why would I fear my father’s bastard child who never once challenged me, no matter what I did or said?” he countered, all snooty and pompous.

“You never officially challenged me either,” Teague pointed out. “Or have you forgotten that?”

A muscle in Ronin’s cheek ticked as he clamped his mouth shut.

“You know, I almost did throw down a gauntlet once. It was back when we were juveniles, when you constantly pulled dumb crap like egg my house and play knock-and-run. Honestly, all it really did was exhaust my fucking patience. It was the stuff you said to my mother that got to me. I was done listening to you insult her—something you insisted on doing at every given opportunity. There’s only one reason I left you alone. Would you like to know what it is?” asked Teague, arching a taunting brow.

“I already know the answer: you weren’t confident you could take me.”

Teague had to chuckle. “Oh, far from it. The truth is . . . ” He paused, feeling a dark smile curve his mouth. “Soren promised he would keep you in line and away from my mother if I swore not to challenge you.”

Ronin’s lips parted. He spluttered. “Nonsense.”

“Nope. Pure fact.”

“He wouldn’t have spoken to you about anything at all, let alone about me. He had nothing to do with you.”

“You were the only son he gave a crap about, yeah.” It had never bothered Teague, because he’d felt not one ounce of respect for the man who’d tossed his pregnant mistress out of the little cottage he’d once put her in, making her homeless. “That’s why he made that deal with me. He wanted to protect you.”

“You lie,” Ronin ground out, his cheeks stained red.

Teague shook his head. “He sensed I’d hit my limit with you, and he had no faith in your ability to survive a duel to the death with me.” Soren had openly admitted it, annoyance and shame coating every word. “So he came to me and made an offer. One I accepted, because I wanted my mother to be left in peace. But I made it clear to him that if he failed to do as he vowed, my own promise would become null and void.”

Ronin’s lips trembled, almost pulling back into a snarl. “No. He would never have made you any offer. He certainly wouldn’t ever have doubted that I could end you.”

Teague arched a brow. “That so? Then why did he always step in whenever me and you almost came to blows as adults in the tavern? Think back. He told you I wasn’t worth your anger, that you should focus on yourself, that you shouldn’t give me the satisfaction of a reaction. You backed off every time, just like he intended. Why would he have intended it if he was positive that you’d win? It certainly wouldn’t have been that he cared whether I lived or died, would it?”

Ronin gave his head a fast shake. “He had complete faith in me. He had none whatsoever in you. He saw you as weak and a shame to his name. It disgusted him when you joined the Dark Host—he said there was no place for you there.”

“I’m sensing that you think this will hurt me. I don’t know why. I don’t give a rat’s ass what he thinks about anything; I never did.” Teague had never made a secret of that. “It was only you who strived to earn his pride.”

“Because you knew you couldn’t have earned it, no matter what you did.”

“No, because I don’t want or need it.” Teague slanted his head. “I pity you, Ronin. When you’re not living in the past, still focused on loathing me and my mother, you’re living for someone else—living their dreams, their wants, their goals. Is it really worth it just to have Soren pat you on the back and say, ‘Good job, son?’ ”

“I’d say no, T,” interjected Archer. “He wouldn’t be here pursuing a personal vendetta if he was happy with his life. I would have thought the Wild Hunt would have better things to do anyway. We sure wouldn’t have had the time for something like this when we were huntsmen.”

“Our time was very much eaten up by our job.” Gideon let out a wistful sigh. “Still, I almost miss it.”

Tucker smiled. “We did have our fair share of fun, didn’t we?”

“The Wild Hunt isn’t about fun,” Ronin sniped. “It is about serving the Dark Host.”

Slade’s face hardened. “It’s not about tracking down your half-brother—who’s in a whole other realm, minding his own business—to wipe out him and his clan.”

Teague nodded. “Then again . . . I suppose I shouldn’t expect you to know that, Ronin. I was told that you couldn’t cope with the role you were given. Such a shame.”

Every muscle in Ronin’s body seemed to tense. “Either you are lying, or your source of information was lying.”

Teague mock winced. “If I were you, I wouldn’t accuse Vine of being a liar—he really wouldn’t like it.”

“He paid us a visit,” Leo added. “He told us you were doing a piss-poor job of being Master Huntsman, Ronin. He also said something about Zagan threatening to have Teague replace you if you didn’t buck up.”

Teague didn’t bother biting down on a smile as his half-brother’s face flushed a deep red. “And that’s when I understood why you all of a sudden wanted me dead. You weren’t going to allow me to take that role from you. You weren’t going to suffer that embarrassment and have Soren see you be outshined by me. You weren’t—”

“You could never outshine me,” Ronin burst out. “You’re the embarrassment. A product of an affair. You should never have been born.”

Teague barely resisted rolling his eyes. “So you’ve said a million times before. It didn’t bother me then. It doesn’t bother me now.”

His nostrils flaring, Ronin went to take a step forward, but then Hugo growled. Ronin blinked, surprised. And then his mouth curved into a mocking smile. “Oh, he’s cute. And soon to be dead. He’s absolutely no match for my hounds here. Your little group as a whole is no match for the force you’re up against.”

“Before the going-up-against begins,” Saxon cut in, “I’d like to state for the record that Teague actually said no to Vine’s offer. But I don’t suppose that will placate you, Ronin. Particularly since I think it’s safe to conclude that you’ve officially lost the job. It would explain why there are no shadowkin here. You can’t direct them anymore.”

Slade looked at each of Ronin’s men. “He convinced you all that we’re taking your positions from you, didn’t he? That’s why you came. You mean to kill us in an act of spite. It’s senseless, since we all turned down the offer to rejoin the Hunt.”

The men exchanged unreadable glances, stiffening slightly.

“They’re lying,” Ronin told his unit. “Once they’ve gotten their Earthly affairs together, they’ll be returning to hell.”

The males flanking Ronin lost their tension and once more inched up their chins, clearly choosing to believe their previous leader.

Staring at his spineless half-brother, Teague clenched his fists. “If you go through with this, your men—people you’re supposed to lead and protect, not use in such a way—will die here tonight. So will your hounds. And your birds. And the pack behind you.”

Ronin sneered. “No. Death will come only for you, your clan, and your little pets here.”

Teague reached down and began to unfasten Baxter’s collar while other members of his clan did the same with the other dogs’ collars. The moment said collars were removed altogether, the canines’ bodies morphed—becoming larger, more muscular, and sprouting coal-black ruffled fur just as their eyes became a deep crimson red.

Ronin swept a shocked gaze over the hounds before refixing his attention on Teague. “You took the hounds from your unit with you when you left hell.”

“Of course we did.” Teague briefly slid his gaze upward as the ravens began flying in circles above their heads. “We brought them as well.” They weren’t supposed to, but neither Teague nor anyone in his clan ever let anything like rules hold them back. “Oh, and since we knew you’d do something as weak as bring a mini army, we made sure that we had backup as well.”

Viper and his brothers stepped out of the trees either side of the camp, where they’d been waiting since Saxon—as prearranged—earlier telepathed the president.

Lines of wariness carved into Ronin’s face as he took in the newcomers. If he knew that they were fallen angels, he’d be even more unnerved. Especially since this particular bunch weren’t a standard breed of angel.

Teague cocked his head. “Are you sure you want to sacrifice your men just to pettily assuage your wounded ego and get some revenge?”

His face hardening, Ronin conjured a ball of hellfire in his hand.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

At the telepathic warning from Teague, Larkin shot to her feet, startling everyone in the sitting room. Assuring Teague mind-to-mind that she’d be with him soon, she tensed as the women frowned up at her.

“Is everything okay?” asked Harper.

Larkin blanked her expression and casually straightened her sweater. “Fine,” she smoothly lied.

She couldn’t afford to alarm them. If she did, they would contact their mates, who would subsequently involve themselves in the situation no matter how much she objected. They would then learn things about Teague and his clan that the hellhorses would prefer remain secret.

“I just have to go check something out,” Larkin added.

“Sentinel business, huh?” Raini guessed. “I don’t know how you cope with being always on call—it would drive me nuts in no time.”

“You get used to it.” Ignoring Devon’s nosy questions, Larkin forced herself to coolly stride out of the room, despite her demon’s urgings for her to move, move, move.

Finally out of the apartment, Larkin put on a burst of speed, sprinting down the hallway and all but barging through the door that led to the stairwell. Her stomach rolling with nerves, she called to her wings, clambered onto the iron railing, and then dropped down. Nearing the bottom floor, she used her wings to slow her descent and made a smooth, practiced landing.

Urgency a drumbeat in her blood, she hurried out of the building. It would take her roughly half an hour, maybe forty-five minutes, to arrive at Teague’s camp by car. Hence why she dashed to the shadows of the parking lot and, in a haze of smoke, shifted into her harpy eagle form.

After a quick shake of her avian body to settle her feathers, she took to the evening sky, her heart hammering in her chest. She told herself that she didn’t need to panic; that Teague wouldn’t struggle to protect himself. No one could lead the Wild Hunt for centuries and not be a deadly fighter, could they? Still, dread squeezed her heart like a cold fist.

Her demon wasn’t as flustered. Not merely because it was rarely rattled by anything, but because it trusted that he could handle himself. Still, it wanted to be at his metaphorical side, even though he had his clan to back him up.

The Black Saints would also help—something they’d offered to do after hearing from ‘a source’ that hellish beings were making appearances in Vegas. How they’d tracked the issue back to Teague, she didn’t know. Nor did she know why Viper would want to involve himself. She’d asked Teague, but he’d told her that to reply with the truth would have been to expose Viper’s secrets.

As she understood and respected that Teague couldn’t share another person’s private business, she hadn’t complained. But she was very curious as to what—

Something closed around her with a snap, squashing her wings against her body. Something tight, wiry, and buzzing with a power that slowly began to lower her to the ground. A net, she realized.

The fuck?

Her heartbeat kicked up even more, the organ battering her ribcage while her demon went nuts. She screeched as she struggled hard, raking at the net with her talons and biting it with her beak. No joy. The net remained perfectly intact.

Her gut tightening and twisting, she inwardly cursed. Unable to use telepathy while in her avian form, she tried shifting so she could sound an alarm. But nothing happened. Not a thing. Her skin didn’t even ripple.

No matter how hard she tried, no matter how many times she tried, it didn’t work. She just couldn’t shift. She was stuck in this form, and she’d bet that the net was responsible for that.

She screeched again, furious. Her demon lunged for supremacy . . . but it couldn’t surface. It was trapped, just as she was trapped.

Her body finally touched the ground, settling on a stretch of grass that she recognized as being part of a local park. She glared up at the three male demons that surrounded her. Holt and his two cronies.

Oh, they were gonna die so hard.

As her waste-of-space anchor stared down at her—his eyes flinty, his face an impassive mask, his posture radiating superiority—she knew she’d been right all along. He hadn’t changed a bit, despite his claims. Here and now, he looked so very different from how he’d presented himself each time he recently approached her. He looked like the old Holt. The real Holt, to be exact.

“I’m not supposed to be in Vegas anymore, I know.” He cocked his head. “But did you really think I’d leave without you?”

Well, yes, actually, she had.

He turned to the tallest of his sentinels. “Put her in the van. And be careful about it.”

Van? What v—

Oh. It was idling at the nearby curb.

You could bet your ass that she made it as hard as possible for Holt’s little minion to carry her to it. She writhed and screeched and bit at him through the gaps in the net. He swore and stumbled and winced and bled, to her demon’s morbid delight.

But he also kept walking, the perseverant bastard.

Holt opened the van’s rear doors. The sentinel jumped inside, placed her on the floor of the vehicle, and then disappeared. Holt promptly hopped into the van and closed the doors behind him. His expression still blank, he took a seat on the wooden bench across from her.

She kept screeching. Kept squirming. Kept biting at the net. Kept attempting to shift.

“You can calm down,” said Holt, his tone flat, as the van began to move. “There’s no need to be distressed.”

Her demon blinked in surprise, and Larkin almost did a double-take. She could be calm? Just exactly what aspect of this scenario could warrant or allow her to be totally chill?

“I realize how this might look, that you might assume I want revenge for how you so firmly rejected me, but my intention isn’t to kill you.” It was a statement, not an effort to reassure.

Clasping his hands, he leaned forward and dipped them between his spread thighs. There was a sort of exaggerated casualness with which he moved—it fairly oozed self-satisfaction; showed he was completely at ease. He believed he was on top of the situation and lacked any concern that something would get in his way.

“I wish it hadn’t come to this, Larkin. Truly. I never wanted any harm to come to you.”

She was finding that a little hard to believe right now, given she was trapped in a goddamn net. Hence why she didn’t stop chewing on it.

“All you had to do was agree to form the bond. That’s all.” His slow, disapproving shake of the head was something an adult might do to a child who’d disappointed them. “I meant it when I said I would have respected your wish to remain part of your lair.”

If she could have raised a doubtful brow, she would have.

“Perhaps I would have eventually urged you to switch to mine,” he admitted, no hesitation or sheepishness. “But not straight away. I would have waited. I would have given you time. I would have earned your trust.” The corners of his eyes tightened. “But you just wouldn’t swallow your pride.”

She paused in chewing, confused. He thought this was a matter of pride?

“You might not wish to admit it, but that’s all this was about for you. It was a hit to your ego when I left you. A hit you never recovered from, because you don’t want to recover from it. You held tight to your anger all these years so that you didn’t have to feel the pain.”

Uh, no, not at all.

“You held even tighter to that anger when I showed up recently. You did it so that you wouldn’t be tempted to give into me. Pride wouldn’t let you back down.”

That was honestly what he thought? That she would ever let her ego interfere with a situation so serious? Maybe that was how he functioned, but not her.

“Much as I understand it, I can’t let it be a factor, Larkin. I can’t.”

Yes, yes, he could. Absolutely.

She chewed harder on the net, determined to free herself; determined to get to Teague’s camp.

The battle would be well underway by now. Did Teague need her? Probably not. He was a tough son of a bitch, and he had not only his clan but the aid of fallen angels.

More, Ronin would be no match for him. But that was what worried her. If his insistence on sending shadowkin to do his dirty work was anything to go by, he knew on some level that Teague could overpower him. Ronin would do something sneaky to increase his odds, hence why her plan was to do something equally sneaky: Attack while in flight.

Ronin wouldn’t expect an assault from above. He likely wouldn’t be braced for it. And neither would anyone he’d brought along with him.

But until she got out of this net—which she would, she had to—she wouldn’t be attacking anyone.

She also couldn’t touch Teague’s mind to be certain he was alive. She hoped he didn’t try telepathically reaching out to her. If he did, if he found himself touching a psychic barrier rather than her mind, his focus would falter. With any luck, he’d released his demon by now—the beast would get so caught up in the battle and consumed by blood-lust that it would hopefully be too distracted to wonder about her whereabouts.

“You know, when I first found you, I couldn’t believe my luck.” A nostalgic smile touched Holt’s mouth. “My anchor was the sentinel of not just any powerful Prime, but Knox Thorne. Also, she was strong and lethal and powerful. I was proud as fuck.”

He spoke like she was a trophy. An asset, even. Something he’d earned. Dick. She went back to work on the net, chewing and raking at it.

His smile slipped. “I didn’t for one minute think you would ask for time before we formed the bond. Or that you’d refuse to join my lair.”

Why? He’d refused to join hers.

“I didn’t like that my Prime intended to use you, but I didn’t think it would bother you to share your secrets with me. Not when you knew it would enhance my standing with him. Anchors do that,” he added, his voice growing sharp. “Help each other. Support each other. Build each other up.”

None of which he’d ever done for her, so she wasn’t sure where he was getting the insane notion that he was in a position to lecture her.

“But I soon realized that you would never tell me what I wished to know. That you would choose to protect Knox’s privacy over supporting me as you should have.” His lips pinched tight. “My demon felt as betrayed as I did. We wanted to teach you a lesson; remind you of what was important; spur you into backing down.”

And so he’d walked away like the asshole he was.

“But you didn’t come to me. Didn’t choose to prioritize me and our bond. Didn’t even send up a fucking smoke signal. No, you put Knox’s secrets and safety first. You chose someone else over me. So I did something similar—I focused on myself and on pursuing my goals rather than on you.”

Actually, for her, it hadn’t really been about choosing Knox over him. She’d told Holt that repeatedly all those years ago, but he hadn’t heard her. Nor had he realized how selfish he was being, which obviously hadn’t changed.

He drew in a slow, controlled breath. “Once my anger drained away, I thought about contacting you. But I didn’t. I knew it would have been pointless. That you would never move to Canada or my lair. I chose to instead let you go. But I thought about you often, though I tried not to. So did my demon. You were on its mind practically all the fucking time.”

Her own entity kind of liked that—why shouldn’t they have suffered?

“It never recovered from your betrayal. It steadily became bitter. Scornful. Withdrawn. And then its control began to waver, and it started to push for supremacy more and more. I soon realized that I was on the path to turning rogue.”

She went still. Well, fuck.

Unclasping his hands, he flexed his fingers, his gaze turning inward. “I thought I could get a handle on it. Reverse the issue. And when I rose to power, it did help. My demon loves having that power. Loves wielding it. Loves being respected and feared by our lair.”

Unsurprising. Things such as power and authority were like drugs to most entities.

His eyes once more became wholly focused on her. “Long before I ever met you, there was something I’d always intended to do on becoming Prime: Heal the breach that my previous Prime caused between him and Knox. I wanted an alliance. I’d never imagined that his sentinel would be my anchor; that I’d have a way in when I finally rose into power.

“Things didn’t work out that way, though, did they?” A hard, self-depreciating smile curved his mouth. “Oh, I became Prime. But my way ‘in’ with Knox hated me.”

And it appeared that he held Larkin responsible for that. Unreal.

“So I chose to not pursue the alliance. But then I began having issues with a couple of lairs. Issues I knew would come to a dramatic halt if I had the right backing.” He straightened. “I knew I would never get an alliance from Knox, but I also knew that my being bound to you would be as much of a deterrent to any Primes tempted to fuck with me. So I thought about perhaps attempting to earn your forgiveness in the hope that we would bond.”

Larkin’s demon peeled back its upper lip, thinking it a fine idea to bite off his ear.

“You’ll twist that; claim I meant to use you.”

Uh, his intention was to use her.

“But, really, it’s natural that anchors aid each other. I simply wanted what was rightfully mine: Your loyalty and support.”

Then he should have offered her the same in turn instead of expecting her to do all the giving.

“I was still deliberating on it when I came to Vegas on my previous trip. I hadn’t yet decided what to do. But the night I saw you from a distance looking so very alone even among your friends, something happened. All the progress I’d made with my demon went sailing out of the window.”

She frowned about as much as her avian features would allow.

“It metaphorically dived at you. Went insane with the need to get to you. It fought me for supremacy with such force that holding it back was painful. I had to leave the bar. Fast. But it didn’t calm down when you were out of sight. It continued to fight me for dominance.”

Larkin couldn’t imagine having to battle her inner demon that way. Hey, hers could be a trial at times. It took over at inopportune moments, and it wasn’t the most cooperative of beings. But it had never put up that kind of struggle.

“I went back to Canada quickly, thinking all would be fine if I put some distance between you and me. Instead, it only made my demon more unstable. It no longer felt any satisfaction in its power or position. It was no longer interested in working with me, or in us being in sync. No, it only wanted you.”

He paused, his nostrils flaring. “It wasn’t only the pull of the bond I then felt. It was the pull to let go and hand over full control to my demon. I’m not balancing on the knife-edge of rogue,” he added, his voice roughening, “but I’m at risk of being overpowered by my entity sometime in the near future. My control over it is precarious at best.”

An element of pity swirled in her stomach. To turn rogue was no joke. A person lost the part of themselves that made them a person. All that then existed was the demon. It ruled supreme. It wreaked havoc. It killed indiscriminately. Did whatever the hell it wished, basically.

Unmoved by his plight, her demon sniffed. It wasn’t feeling even a tiny hint of sympathy for him. Then again, such an emotion wasn’t something it generally experienced.

“So I came back to claim you before I lost the fight. At that point, the political advantages of our being bound would have merely been a bonus.” A glitter of menace bled into his eyes. “I thought you might delay forming the bond to punish me for leaving, but I hadn’t expected you to turn me away so completely. That was a mistake, wasn’t it? You’ll never agree to form the bond. Not even now, when you know it would save me. Your demon would sooner I perish, wouldn’t it?”

Maybe if he’d just told her about his struggles in the beginning she might have been open to it—she wasn’t a monster. But he hadn’t been truthful or genuine with her. He’d instead tried to trick, manipulate, and provoke her. More, he’d played games and even confronted Teague. And so they’d never know what decision she would have otherwise made.

But right now, considering Holt had caught her with a goddamn net, no, she had no plans to help him. Her demon—just as he suspected—would see him in hell before it would aid him in any way.

“I can’t allow that, Larkin. So I’ve taken the matter into my own hands.” He paused, settling his palms on his thighs. “That net is slowly draining you of psi-energy. At some point, you will be so drained that whatever mental wall you slammed up between us will fall. Our psyches will then clash, and the bond will form.”

She froze again, and her stomach bottomed out. No. No, no, no, no.

“Unfortunately, since I know you will hate me for it and slit my throat whatever chance you get—even if it means you’ll turn rogue in the process—I have no choice but to keep you prisoner.” He let out a weary sigh. “My hope is that there will come a day when you understand, when you forgive me, when me and our bond mean enough to you that I can free you without worry that you will harm me or yourself. Until then . . . well, until then you’ll exist in a cage in my home. It’s really the only way.”