Chapter Twenty-Three

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Leaning against the wagon’s bedroom doorjamb an hour or so later, Larkin watched as a broody Teague roughly kicked off his shoes, his expression hard as granite. “Are you going to be like this all night?” she asked.

“Like what?” he bit out, sharply swiping out his foot to kick both shoes into the corner near the laundry bag.

“Snippy and gruff.”

He shot her a petulant look. “I’m not snippy or gruff.”

“Not usually, no. But your current mood is somewhat foul.”

His lips tightening, he planted his hands on his hips and glared at her. “Of course it is. You were kidnapped earlier.”

Larkin bit down on her lower lip. Unsurprisingly, he hadn’t reacted too well on learning what had delayed her arrival. His face had flushed a deep red, and a string of harsh expletives had all but exploded out of his mouth. He’d then gone on something of a rant, fluidly pacing up and down like a caged animal.

Knowing she would have reacted in a similar fashion in his shoes, Larkin had remained silent as he’d ranted, letting him get it all out of his system. His clan had done the same, sensing he needed it. Eventually, he’d cut himself off, sucked in a long breath, and announced that they all needed to focus on cleanup. So that was what they had done.

With the help of Slade, Archer, and Tucker, she and Teague had piled up every corpse—hell-animal, chupacabra, and hellhorse—and then eradicated them with hellfire. The smell of so much burning flesh and meat had been nauseatingly atrocious. Several hard flaps of Larkin’s wings had thankfully cleared the air of the terrible scents and had also sent all the ashes scattering.

Meanwhile, Leo had dug out a hose and used it to rinse away blood spatter and other bits of gore from the wagons, trees, and ground. It hadn’t been a fast or easy job, but the meticulous male had persevered until not a trace remained.

Saxon and Gideon had washed the dogs’ blood-matted coats with shampoo. Most of them had liked it. But Reggie had made whines of complaint during the entire process, and Dutch had tried to run off a few times as if they were bathing him in acid. Hugo, on the other hand, had fallen asleep mid-wash.

Once the hounds were all clean, Saxon and Gideon had put their collars back on. The simple act had morphed them back into their typical-canine form. According to Archer, a mage down in hell had enchanted the collars so that they’d alter the bloodhounds’ forms.

The ravens had washed themselves in the birdbaths in the wooded area. Baths that the guys had placed there, away from prying eyes, because the flock apparently didn’t like to bathe with an audience . . . like they stripped naked or something. It was weird, but Larkin didn’t say as much.

Once the cleanup was over, Tucker and Slade had made sandwiches for everyone. With the exception of Tucker, who’d made a point of washing his hands, the hellhorses had immediately gathered around the firepit to eat—evidently uncaring that their clothes and skin were still stained with blood.

They’d chatted between bites of their food, casual and relaxed. Like they hadn’t just participated in a battle. Maybe she should have expected such nonchalance, but it had surprised her.

Unlike the others, Teague hadn’t done much chatting. He’d mostly just sat there, surly and sullen, chewing a little too hard on his sandwich. As such, she’d known that he was still stewing over what went down with Holt.

Once they’d finished eating, he’d gruffly ushered her into his wagon . . . and so now here they were. And he was still glaring at her.

She sighed. “I’m not suggesting you don’t have a reason to be snippy—”

“I told you,” he gritted out, “I’m not snippy.”

Larkin rubbed at her temple. “Right. My mistake.” Tired, she was tempted to perch her ass on his bed, but her clothes were in a gruesome state.

“And for the record, it wasn’t a ‘funny story’ like you said it would be.” He spoke like she’d cheated him out of a few laughs.

“I hadn’t meant you’d find it amusing.” Though with his nonsensical sense of humor, it wouldn’t have been a complete shock for Larkin if he’d found something about the incident worth snickering about. “Now stop shooting me glares. I don’t blame you for being pissed. I get that it couldn’t have been nice for you to hear about it all after the fact—”

“Then why didn’t you reach out to me earlier?”

“The net prevented it. You know that already.” She’d explained everything. “Though it wasn’t like I couldn’t handle three dumbass cambions—something that’s perfectly apparent, considering they’re dead. And there wasn’t anything you could have done anyway, considering you were smack bam in the middle of a battle. Or did you forget that part?”

“I didn’t forget,” he clipped, his hands slipping down to his sides. “I also didn’t forget that you could have telepathed me once you’d escaped the net but you didn’t.”

“There was no sense in me being like oh, by the way, I just survived a kidnapping attempt. Especially when you needed to focus on fighting.” She held up a hand when he would have spoken. “I won’t apologize for making the call I made. It was the right one. You’d have made it in my shoes.”

“No, I wouldn’t have.”

“Okay, that was a complete and utter lie. Don’t even deny it.” She pushed away from the doorjamb. “Instead of being upset with me, be pissed at Holt.”

Teague’s gaze glittered with fury. “Oh, I am.” His eyes bled to black as his demon rose just long enough to rumble an enraged growl, and then it retreated.

Her own entity, totally over the Holt incident at this point, yawned and settled down. Most of its anger had drained away when it’d eradicated the asshole’s existence, and the last of the emotion had dissipated after the demon delivered a little pain to Ronin.

Teague rolled his neck on his stiff shoulders. “I want to resurrect the little fucker so I can kill him myself.”

“It would be satisfying to bring him back for exactly that purpose. He died way too quickly. But death by hell-ice at close range isn’t by any means a painless experience, so there’s that.”

“He deserved worse.” Teague ground his teeth. “I would have tortured him over and over until he begged for death.”

Her entity smiled, finding that sweet. Yeah, sweet. “You really should be careful, Teague, or you’ll make my demon fall for you.” He didn’t yet need to know that the entity was already gone for him.

His face softened slightly. “It doesn’t seem to be riding you hard. I’m assuming it isn’t bothered that you had to kill Holt.”

Her demon snorted, finding it ridiculous that he might believe otherwise. “Not even a little. It despised him.”

Teague slowly crossed to her. “Can’t have been easy for you.”

“What?”

“Killing your anchor.”

“He was never my anchor. Not in any real sense of the word.” Even at the end, he’d only wanted the bond for his own selfish reasons.

“I know that.” Teague slipped his arms around her waist. “But it has to go against the grain on a primal level to harm your psimate. Some elemental part of you must have struggled with it.”

She pursed her lips. “Honestly? No, no part of me rose up in protest or pain. Probably because it was a matter of survival—that will trump anything else on a primitive level. He wanted to take my choices from me; force me to bond with him, leave with him. For me, it was either kill him or be his captive and forever be psychically stuck with him. Nothing in me hesitated at choosing the first option, and I will never regret or feel bad about it.”

She grieved the bond that they could have had if things were different, but she didn’t grieve Holt. And now that he was gone, a psychic weight had been lifted—she couldn’t feel the call of the bond anymore; never would again. The relief of that warmed her very soul.

Stroking Teague’s upper arms, she asked, “Was it hard erasing Ronin’s existence? I mean, he was a total shitbag. But he was also your half-brother.”

“He was never my family, just as Holt was never your psi-mate. I would prefer that I hadn’t been placed in a position where it was Ronin or me, but I can’t say I found it difficult to end him.”

“Yeah, I get that.”

Teague pressed his forehead to hers, exhaling a long sigh. “I hate that I was deep in battle with no clue that you were in danger.”

She slid a hand up his chest to splay it over his heart. “I hate that you were in battle at all. I can’t lie, I’m absolutely ecstatic that Ronin’s dead. So is my demon. I’m surprised it didn’t do a happy dance around his ashes.”

Feeling his mouth curve, Teague pulled back. “Your entity sure had some fun with him. I think it scares my clan.”

“My demon scares most people. But not you,” she mused, regarding him closely. “Never you.”

“The entity’s nice to me,” he reminded her, still rather smug about it. He tilted his head. “Is it still sulking because it didn’t get to pluck out any of Ronin’s teeth and keep them as trophies?” Teague had vetoed that on the basis that it was not only plain weird but also a bad idea, since he needed every trace of Ronin to be gone from this realm.

“No. It was placated by your gift of a chupacabra fang.”

He smiled. “I knew it would be. I almost took one for myself. Would have made a nice toothpick.”

She stared at him for a long moment, a look of blank incomprehension on her face. “You’re both nuts.”

He shrugged one shoulder. “We can live with that.”

“I’ve noticed.”

As he recalled the question he’d meant to ask her earlier, he studied her closely. “How did you escape the net? You never said.”

She merely gave him one of her enigmatic smiles.

“Ah, come on, tell me,” he coaxed, squeezing her hips gently.

“Maybe later. I need a shower in a major way. So do you.”

“We’ll have one together. Then you can tell me what I want to know.”

She made a noncommittal sound.

So he bit her. Right on the neck. Hard.

With a hiss, Larkin gave him a little shove that was more playful than annoyed. “Watch those teeth, Black Beauty.”

“You like it when I bite you,” he taunted before landing a hard kiss on her mouth, savoring her taste. Breaking the kiss, he gave her ass a soft pat. “Get naked. I’ll grab some towels.”

He stalked over to the wall near his bed and opened up one of the high cupboards that were built into the wagon’s walls. Spotting something, he felt his brow knit. “What’s this?” As he pulled out an unfamiliar book, he noticed Larkin awkwardly poke her tongue into the inside of her cheek.

She cleared her throat. “My demon stashed it there.”

“Your demon?”

“It likes to hide its belongings in little hidey holes.”

He felt his frown deepen. “In other people’s homes?”

“It stores things wherever it feels like.” She said it like it was no big deal, her voice overly casual.

He couldn’t help squinting. “You know, you’re no better than your demon when it comes to stuff like this. You leave your shit here all the time, you just don’t secrete it away.” He was starting to wonder if Gideon was right and this was her way of leaving a mark on his territory.

“I can pack it all up and take it home with me if you want,” she offered without hesitation.

He should say yes. But he weirdly found that he didn’t mind having some of her things spread around his wagon. He even kind of liked it, as did his beast.

Deciding not to question why, Teague flicked a hand. “No, it’s fine.” He glanced around, his mouth twisting. “Has your demon stashed other stuff around here?”

“No, just that.”

He bit the inside of his cheek, not so sure he believed her. The look she gave him was just a little too innocent.

She glanced at the book he still held. “Do you want me to take it home? I mean, I can’t guarantee that my demon won’t just put it back in your cupboard at some point, but you never know.”

He felt his lips hitch up. “The book can stay.”

“All right, if you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.”

Walking toward him, she said, “This is one of many reasons why you shouldn’t be so smug that my demon likes you. Where you’re concerned, it’ll feel it’s entitled to do all kinds of things that you won’t be happy about.”

“It’s a law unto itself,” he agreed with a nod. “I approve.”

“You would,” she mumbled.

“I don’t know why you’d think I shouldn’t.”

“Of course you don’t.” Rocking back and forth on her heels, she eyed the book again. “You, uh, should really put that back in the hidey hole.”

Sensing the issue, Teague felt his smile widen. “Your demon’s getting antsy about me holding it, huh?”

“It doesn’t like other people touching its things.”

Affronted, he pointed at his chest. “I should be an exception to that.” It liked him. A lot. And he gave it presents.

“You are to an extent. Which is why it hasn’t surfaced to punch you in the throat. And yes, it has done that to others who’d dared put their hands on its possessions. The entity is pretty territorial.”

“Hmm.” Rather than put the book back in the cupboard, he briefly flicked through it.

She put a hand on her hip and cocked her head. “So, what, you want my demon to hurt you?”

“Not especially.”

She blinked. “The answer should really be an absolute ‘no’.”

“Meh.”

Lowering her arm to her side, she slowly shook her head and turned away. “Sometimes, when I consider that your sense of self-preservation is shaky at best, I have no clue how you’re alive.”

“It is a conundrum,” he allowed as he replaced the book and dragged two towels out of the cupboard. “But no one will come at me when I’m fake-dating a badass harpy who’d kick their asses or let loose her nutcase of a demon on them.” He closed the cupboard, frowning as her expression changed. “Why are you smiling at me like that?”

Her lips twitched, widening her smile a little. “Like what?”

“Like I’m clueless or something.” It made his beast bristle.

She cradled his face with her hands. Cradled. His. Face. “You’re just so cute,” she said, squishing his cheeks as if he was five or something.

He drew his head back, making her hands slip away. “I don’t think anyone has ever described me as cute before. Hot. Sexy. Big-dicked. Never cute.” He wasn’t certain how he felt about it.

“There’s a first time for everything. Right?”

Narrowing his eyes again, he pointed an accusing finger at her. “You’re just trying to distract me from my line of questioning.” It made him so proud that she’d picked up that habit from him.

She gave a breezy shrug. “If you say so.”

“I do say so, and I won’t be sidetracked this time. No way.”

“Good for you.” She swiped a towel from him. “Now, are we taking a shower or what? I want to put that big dick of yours to good use, but I can’t right here and now.”

And he lost his grip on the question he’d meant to ask. “Wait, why can’t we have sex here and now?”

“We’re covered in blood.” She didn’t add obviously, but he heard it in her tone.

Teague felt his brow furrow. “So?”

“So I don’t want to have sex while smears of blood are all over my skin and that of the person who’s fucking me.”

“Why not?”

She fired a disbelieving look at him. “Because it’s icky.”

“Icky?”

“Yes, icky.”

He did a slow blink, struggling to follow her line of thinking. Finally, he shrugged. “All right, if it’s really such a big deal for you . . . ”

Her eyes flashed. “How could it not be a big deal? Like, for anyone?”

Teague opened his mouth to speak but then bit down on his bottom lip. “I get the feeling that I don’t have a response that won’t irritate you. Which would normally please me. But I want to fuck you, and I don’t think you’ll let me if you’re mad at me. You didn’t last time.” Which was completely unreasonable.

Her eyelids lowered slightly. “Because last time, you tried sticking a mini marshmallow up my nose while you thought I was sleeping.”

“It was an accident.”

Her brows snapped together. “How does one do that by accident?”

Scratching his nape, he raised his shoulders. “Okay, so I wanted to wake you up,” he admitted with an incline of his head.

“And you couldn’t have just, you know, gently shook me or something?”

Well . . . he supposed he could have, now that he thought about it. It just really hadn’t occurred to him at the time.

Closing her eyes, she slammed up a hand—something she did a lot around him in pure exasperation, which he really loved. “Just don’t try stuffing things up my nose again,” she said. “That’s all I ask.”

“What do you have against things being stuffed in holes? I still can’t believe you’re not open to figging. You can’t be scared of a little ginger peel.”

Her eyes flipped open. “I’m not scared of it. It just isn’t going up my ass. Ever.”

“But—”

“No.”

“Just give it a chance.”

“No.”

“You’ll like it.”

“Uh, no, I won’t. At all. Not in the slightest. Now can we end this pointless conversation and just. Go. Shower?” Her hand clenched around the towel. “What, why the fuck are you grinning like an idiot?”

“I can’t help it, I plain love it when you snarl and—fuck, don’t throw shit at me, Lark!”