Chapter Twenty-Four

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Two months later

Standing in one of the racing stadium’s VIP boxes, Larkin watched through the glass wall as twenty hellhorses trotted onto the oval dirt track. Whistles and cheers split the air, loud and laced with anticipation. Their heads proudly held high, the steeds came to a smooth halt near the start line. Among them was Teague’s beast.

Larkin cricked her neck, edgy with nerves. How could she not be, given how dangerous the sport was?

Even before she’d crossed platonic lines with Teague, she’d felt a little nervous when he raced. It was worse now that they were mates—something he wasn’t yet aware of, but she didn’t feel that his obliviousness was necessarily important.

Unlike her, Teague’s hellhorse wasn’t at all restless. It held itself tall and still, oozing self-assurance. Most of its competitors, on the other hand, nervously swished their tails or scraped a hoof at the earth.

Her own demon was very close to the surface, so eager for the race to begin that it practically bounced on the spot with anticipation. It wasn’t worried for their mate. Nor was it bothered by how utterly inhumane the obstacles and ditches were. In the entity’s opinion, the more sadistic they were, the better. And it had every confidence that Teague’s demon would not only escape relatively unscathed but prevail.

Larkin slid the imp beside her a quick look. “Sometimes, I don’t know why Teague’s beast persists in putting itself through this again and again. Then I remember it probably wouldn’t do it at all if it wasn’t for the risky hurdles.”

As edgy as Larkin, Khloë tipped back her glass to drink some of her champagne. “The demon is an official danger junkie. It likes to live life on the edge in just about every way possible.”

Larkin blinked. “You say that with perfect understanding.”

The imp gave a slight shrug. “Danger spices things up.”

“Injuries don’t. And his beast always walks away with plenty after these damn races.”

Khloë grimaced. “Yeah, I don’t like that part. It’s why I get nervous.”

Asher toddled over and planted his palms on the glass wall. “I wanna go down there.” He looked up at Maddox expectantly . . . as if the male would obligingly teleport him to the track. The little boy thankfully couldn’t pyroport that far away.

An arm draped around Raini’s shoulders, Maddox peered down at Asher. “Why?”

“To ride a horsey,” the boy told him.

Sighing from her spot on the chic leather seating, Harper cut in, “Kid, we’ve been over this—you can’t ride a hellhorse. They don’t let people ride them.”

That wasn’t strictly true. If they wholeheartedly trusted a person, they’d allow it. Teague’s beast had given Larkin a ride around his land multiple times.

Tossing an empty paper plate in the trash, Piper looked at Harper. “Have you not considered just buying him a pony or something?”

“I thought about it.” Harper bit into a spring roll she’d nabbed from the buffet table. “But since he’s going through a phase of setting his toys on fire when he’s bored with them, I figured I’d better not.”

Gently bouncing her daughter on her lap, Devon grinned and said, “That’s a typical imp phase.”

Raini nodded, sucking milkshake through a straw. “He’s probably copying the other kids.”

A crackle of static came over the intercom, and then a male voice announced that the race would now start.

Every cell of Larkin’s body tensed. The hellhorses went motionless. All the spectators in the stadium fell silent.

Moments later, a horn loudly rang out.

The steeds pitched forward as one and rocketed along the track, their hooves kicking up dust and grass. They crossed the individual lanes and gathered into a tight herd. Teague’s beast didn’t bolt straight to first place, though Larkin would bet it could. Instead, it settled in the center of the herd and kept its pace steady.

Khloë blew out a breath. “That’s it, go easy, you got nothing to prove.”

Larkin heard hinges creak behind her. Heard soft footfalls—rhythms she recognized as those belonging to Knox and the male sentinels. She didn’t look away from the racing steeds.

Hellhorses were mesmerizing when in motion. Their sleek muscles rippled, their powerful legs were a blur of movement, and their lush manes fluttered with the astonishing speed at which they ran.

The stadium echoed with the thunder of hooves, the rapid commentary coming over the loudspeaker, and the shouting of the spectators.

“Here comes the first hurdle,” said Keenan, walking over to stand behind his mate. “And it’s on fire.”

Devon groaned. “I almost don’t want to watch.”

Feeling her stomach wind tighter and tighter as the steeds neared the obstacle, Larkin bit down on her lip. And then they were there.

Timing the jump just right, Teague’s hellhorse leaped over the eight-foot wall, neatly avoiding contact with the flames, and cleared the ditch of lava.

A few others weren’t so lucky—the fire grazed their underbelly, charring their coat and skin. Still, they didn’t fall. They kept running hard and fast.

Levi hummed. “That went smoother than I thought it would.”

“Not sure we’ll be able to say the same for the next hurdle,” said Piper, chewing on her thumb. “Look at it.”

Oh, Larkin was looking. Snakes were writhing all over the wall. Big-ass snakes that appeared somewhat keyed-up.

Again, Teague’s beast leaped high. A snake lurched toward him, snapping its jaw closed, missing the steed’s leg by mere inches. The stallion easily cleared the wall and forged on ahead.

Another steed got bit right on its flank as it jumped. Larkin winced. Maybe it was the surprise, maybe it was the pain, but though the hellhorse avoided the lava ditch, it landed awkwardly on the track. As its foreleg crumpled beneath it, it went ass over tit.

The steed behind it had no time or way to skirt around the fallen beast. It went down hard, tripping another hellhorse in the process. That simply, all at once, three competitors were out of the race.

“And then there were seventeen,” intoned Keenan.

Cricking her neck again, Larkin watched Teague’s beast up his speed just enough to slide into eighth place. The demon beside it spared the steed a quick glance and then puffed out a billow of snort, attempting to distort its vision.

It worked, but her mate continued onward.

So the prick did it again moments later. Once more, it worked. Which was an issue, because they’d approached a mean-ass wall that was covered in moving, thorny vines that lashed out like whips.

She held her breath as Teague’s beast made the jump. It seemed to spring off its powerful hindlegs as it smoothly soared over the hurdle. Thank God.

The puffing steed wasn’t so fortunate. Its front hooves scuffed a vine hard enough to rock its balance and momentum. The demon landed right into the pit of blazing shrubs, letting out a high-pitched squeal of pain. The lashings of vines caused two other steeds to hit the ditch, their squeals just as piercing.

The remaining contestants kept on tearing across the track. As the minutes went on, they leaped over obstacles, raced through bubbling puddles of oil, and sprinted across patches of ice.

Some stayed on their feet. Others went down. Teague’s beast not only didn’t fall, it didn’t slow.

When they surpassed the first half of the race, the cheating promptly began. They tried distracting one another—setting each other’s tails alight, biting into necks or flanks, bashing their bodies into that of others.

Her gut tensed as the stallions either side of her mate converged on it in a rush, trying to squash it between them and fuck with its steady pace.

Larkin hissed. “Those little”—she slid Asher a quick glance—“meanies.”

“Big meanies,” Asher declared.

Said meanies didn’t succeed in making her mate fall. Teague’s stallion put on a quick burst of speed, escaping them. They gave chase, the shitheads. One nipped its butt hard. Her mate’s head jerked, and it swished its tail like a whip.

Khloë growled. “Oh, I could murder them . . . jerks.”

One of the aforementioned jerks were taken out by the next hurdle—it scraped its belly badly on the shards of broken glass that littered the surface of the wall. Larkin’s demon gave a haughty that’s karma for you sniff.

Teague’s beast thankfully made the jump without a problem. It also sailed into fourth place.

As the race went on, the hellhorse came up against yet more jumps and ditches. It also dealt with yet more tricksters trying to take it down. One even body-slammed it like a pro, almost knocking it into a fence. Though the beast’s pace faltered, it didn’t lose its footing. It recovered fast and raced on ahead of the little prick.

Rubbing at her nape, Larkin chewed on the inside of her cheek. At this point, her mate sported many burns and bites, as well as a fair few gashes from the more sadistic obstacles. She could see that it was not only in pain, it was beginning to tire. All the runners were, so fewer and fewer were clearing hurdles.

Keenan commented each time a steed fell, letting everyone know exactly how many were left in the run-in. She didn’t need his input at this point. It took a single look to tell that five remained. Teague’s beast was now in second place.

“Okay,” began Devon, “we’re at the last part of the track.”

Which was why Larkin’s nerves were having an absolute breakdown. This was where the obstacles became higher, wider, crueler, and closer together.

Joining her hands together as if in prayer, she placed them against her mouth. Her stomach twisted each time her mate approached a jump. Her breath snagged each time it made a leap. Air gusted out of her mouth every time it cleared a hurdle.

“One jump left,” Raini muttered.

It was at that point that the cheating went crazy. There was lots of biting and bashing and puffing out noxious smoke to fog the air. One asshole set alight her mate’s tail with goddamn hellfire, but a strong flap of that tail fortunately made the flames die down.

As it neared the overgrown prickly hedge around which a swarm of hornets were gathered, Larkin sank her teeth down into her lower lip.

The beast jumped. High. Fast. Skillfully.

Part of the hedge scraped its belly, and she sucked in a breath. The beast landed hard, but it didn’t fall. Nope, it slid into first place as it then ran for the finish line.

Larkin shifted from foot to foot. “That’s it, keep going, you’re almost there.”

The chants of the spectators became louder and more urgent. The commentator’s speech became more rapid and intense. Khloë began spouting more encouragements, her words coming out fast.

Every last hellhorse dug deep for strength and sprinted on ahead, their hooves pounding the track, their metallic black coats shimmering with sweat. Each edged forward little by little, and some overtook others. But none caught up to Teague’s stallion.

It darted across the finish line first.

Only then did Larkin’s gut unknot.

Keenan slapped her back a little too hard, amusement gleaming in his eyes. “You weren’t nervous for the demon, were you?”

Larkin twisted his ear.

He hissed. “Ow, that hurt.”

Khloë snickered. “Don’t be a baby.”

He huffed at the imp. “You’re supposed to be sympathetic.”

“Sympathetic,” Khloë echoed, tasting the word. She closed her eyes. “I know what it means, I do, I just can’t remember right now.”

He cast her a droll look. “I need a beer.” With that, he walked off.

Smiling, Khloë turned to Larkin. “So . . . are you still going through with your plan to tell Teague tonight that you guys are in a relationship?”

Larkin exhaled heavily. “Yup.” Honestly, she’d thought he’d have worked it out for himself by now. She was starting to wonder if he was choosing the bliss of ignorance.

Khloë knocked back the last of her champagne. “Why did you delay it this long?”

“I just wanted to give him time to get used to having me around so much. It’ll make it easier for him to adjust to the fact that I’m not going anywhere.” Her demon wouldn’t allow it even if Larkin was prepared to walk away.

The entity was so firmly attached to him that, little by little, it had gravitated all its belongings to Teague’s wagon. He’d come across some of it, but not all. The demon hadn’t left them in plain sight. The stuff was stashed here and there.

He never commented. Just curiously studied the object and then put it back.

“Personally, I think he’ll react well to realizing he’s been firmly snagged by you,” said Khloë.

Larkin cocked her head. “You do?”

Nodding, the imp placed her empty glass on a nearby high table. “The way he looks at you . . . it’s hard to describe. There’s an electric possessiveness there that’s mingled with pride and something seriously warm. He’s utterly gone for you. Not sure if he’s acknowledged it to himself yet, but he’s got it bad. So has his demon.”

“Hopefully you’re right, because if Teague tries to chase me off, my demon will hurt him.” She wasn’t kidding.

“I’ll hurt him. You’re good for Teague; he’d be a fool to turn you away. I will tumble all over his shit if he messes this up.”

It was only a few minutes later that he strolled into the VIP box. People hollered out their hellos and congratulations. He came straight to Larkin, his mouth curving into that grin he wore solely for her.

She felt her own lips hike up. “You won. Again. Congrats.”

Splaying his hand on her back, he pulled her close. “Thank you, baby.” He pressed a soft kiss to her mouth and then looked at Khloë. “Hey, gorgeous.”

It no longer bothered Larkin when he used that term with Khloë. The same couldn’t be said for Keenan, though. Hence why the approaching sentinel glared at him.

“Every time you do that, you insult Larkin,” Keenan stated.

Teague frowned. “Do what?”

“Call another woman gorgeous,” said Keenan, curling an arm around the imp’s shoulders.

Teague double-blinked. “How does that insult Larkin?”

“Because she’s the one you should be complimenting.”

“I do compliment her. Just this morning, I told her she could wield a paddle like a pro.”

Larkin let out a heavy breath and exchanged a look with a chuckling Piper.

Keenan’s lips pressed into a tight line. “Just stop calling my mate—” He grunted as said mate dug her elbow into his ribs.

“Let it go, Keenan,” Khloë groused.

The incubus sniffed. “I don’t want to.”

“Here,” Devon interjected, holding out her daughter, “make yourself useful and hold Anaïs instead of bothering people.”

Keenan threw up his arms and stepped back. “No. No way. I like to breathe. For some reason, she has an issue with that and wants to put an end to it.”

Devon rolled her eyes. “Would you stop being dramatic? She’s just a baby.”

“She’s an assassin in the making.” He looked at Levi. “Back me up on this.”

The reaper sighed. “You’re overreacting.”

“You hold her, then.”

“Fuck, no.”

Devon glared at both males. “You are terrible, terrible people.”

Chuckling, Teague turned to Larkin. “Ready to go?”

“Couldn’t be readier,” said Larkin.

Since she’d arrived at the Underground in her car, she drove behind his bike as he headed to his camp. Aside from Tucker and Saxon, the clan was outside.

Slade was cleaning his own bike with a rag that, like most materials he owned, appeared to be bloodstained. Leo was wiping bird shit off his wagon while glaring at a raven that was circling overhead. He appeared to be cursing at the bird—it was hard to be sure, since it was impossible to hear him over the Bob Marley tune that was filtering out of Tucker’s open window.

Sprawled in his porch chair with a bottle of brandy in hand, Gideon sang along to the music while waving a lighter in the air. Archer was doing the same from his own porch, a bag of mushrooms on his lap.

The dogs rushed to Teague as soon as he was off his bike. Larkin parked in her usual spot near where Saxon’s truck tended to be parked. It was currently nowhere to be seen, so it seemed he was out and about—and likely going after yet another mark for a fee, but she wasn’t judging.

None of the clan had mentioned the Ronin thing since the evening of the battle, totally over it . . . right up until their old commander paid them another visit a week ago. He’d informed them of Ronin’s disappearance and—apparently at the request of Soren, who believed his son had no enemies other than Teague—questioned her mate about it.

Of course, her hellhorse had played clueless. Vine had bought his act, since he himself didn’t suspect Teague of any involvement. Mostly because it hadn’t only been Ronin who’d gone missing; it was his entire unit. Vine couldn’t see why Teague would wipe them all out—he seemingly had no motivation to do so.

As she exited her vehicle, Gideon raised his bottle to her while Archer gave her a lazy salute. Leo tipped his chin her way and went back to glaring at the raven. Slade probably would have said his hellos if Dutch hadn’t chosen that moment to try to snatch the bloodstained rag from his hand.

Once she’d grabbed something from her trunk, Larkin crossed to Teague, who was stuffing his riding gear in his saddlebag. After exchanging a few words with his clan, he clambered up the steps to his wagon and unlocked the door. He gestured for her to precede him inside and then closed the door behind them.

Teague frowned. “What’s that?” he asked, flicking a look at what she was carrying.

“My overnight bag,” Larkin replied before walking to his bedroom.

Following her, he scratched at the branded side of his neck. “Looks like a suitcase to me.”

Larkin dropped the luggage on the floor near the dresser and then kicked off her shoes. “Some might call it that.” Because that was exactly what it was.

He hummed. “What have you brought that couldn’t fit into a duffel?”

Most of her wardrobe. “Right, look, here’s how it is. I don’t intend to live in a separate place from my mate. Which is what you are. My mate. And not a fake one. Our relationship—yes, we have a relationship; we’ve been in one for months now—is nothing close to shallow. It’s serious, and it’s permanent. Deal with it.”

He didn’t react. Didn’t tense. Didn’t speak. Didn’t blink. Nothing.

Her demon stirred, watching him very closely, trying and failing to read his expression. Likewise, Larkin couldn’t determine what was going on in his head. But knowing Teague, it was nothing predictable.

“We’re in a relationship?” he asked, no inflection in his tone.

She lifted her chin. “Yes.”

“A real one?”

“Yes. Oh, and everyone knows.” She figured it would be best to throw that out there.

“Everyone?”

She felt her nose wrinkle. “Well, I’m not sure about your clan, but the others in our circle know. I thought you’d cotton on to it eventually, but you just didn’t.”

“So this is why Khloë keeps laughing at me?”

“Probably. You never can tell with Khloë.”

Seconds of excruciating silence ticked by. “How long, exactly, have we been in a relationship?”

“Officially? Since the night before we first babysat Asher together.”

His brows flicked up. “That long?”

“Yes. It became real before then somehow; I just didn’t really realize it until that night. I said nothing, because you would have run like a rabbit. I instead made the official decision that we’d be a true couple from then on, and I worked hard to sneak past your defenses so I’d be more easily able to make you accept it.”

“Wait, that’s what you were plotting when you were watching me all weird back then?”

“Uh-huh. At this point, I feel like it worked. If it hasn’t . . . ” Her demon would go apeshit, and Larkin would have to kick his ass.

He twisted his mouth, staring down at her, his expression still inscrutable.

Her nerves starting to play up, she arched a brow. “Well?”

“Well, what?”

“How do you feel about the situation?” She paused. “I should warn you that my demon has—despite its issues—formed a huge attachment to you. It plans to eat your spleen if you try wriggling out of the relationship.”

“Why my spleen?”

“I don’t know, don’t care. Now answer my question.”

His jaw beginning to tighten, he lifted his shoulders. “Honestly? I’m annoyed.”

Her stomach clenching, Larkin felt her eyes narrow. “Expand.”

“For weeks on end I’ve been wondering how best to bring up that me and my demon have decided to keep you. I wasn’t sure if you’d put up a protest, and I kept obsessing over it. And now it turns out that I had no need to chew on it. So yeah. I’m annoyed.”

The tension in her body slipped away. Her demon relaxed with a smirk, feeling rather self-satisfied. “Keep me, huh?”

Hooking his finger through a belt loop in her waistband, he pulled her close, his expression softening. “My kind generally don’t take mates, as you know. It’s not in our nature. I never thought I’d want to claim someone for myself. It really just never appealed to me. Until you. I wouldn’t have thought my demon would be on board but it is, like, mega attached to you.”

Larkin swallowed, settling her hands on the twin columns of his back. She wasn’t a person who spouted soft, fuzzy words, so all she said was . . . “Then you get to keep your spleen.”

His lips twitched. “Your entity really would have eaten it, wouldn’t it?”

“If you’d rejected it, yes. It had planned to cut out the organ with a rusty spoon.”

His smile widened. “I totally dig your demon. It’s ace.”

A sigh escaped her. “There’s no hope for either of you. There just isn’t.”

“You’ll learn to live with it.” He glanced down at the suitcase again. “You’re truly good with moving here?”

“I like your wagon. And your camp. I even like your clan, though they’re all certifiably nuts to some degree. But I won’t leave my lair.” She lifted a hand. “Before you ask, no, I’m not going to request that you leave your clan. Because then you wouldn’t be happy. I don’t want that. We don’t need to be part of the same lair or clan to make this work.”

“You’ve squared this with Knox?”

“Yes. I made him very aware that though I’ll remain his sentinel, my loyalty will always be primarily to you. He’s fine with that. He has his own mate, so he understands.”

His chest tightening, Teague slid his hand up her back. This harpy got to him. Big time. Had burrowed so deep inside him that she touched him in ways he hadn’t known anyone could.

He dropped his forehead to hers. “You have my loyalty in a way that no one else ever will. Not even my clan.”

Warmth bled into her eyes. “Then we’re even.”

“We’re even,” he agreed, wrapping a hand around the back of her neck. To seal the deal, he brought his mouth down on hers. The kiss was soft and slow. For about six seconds. Then an electric intensity crackled between them that charged his body and demanded an outlet.

It found it.

Need took him in a burst of flames. Their kiss became wild and desperate and ragged. Each slide of her tongue and raspy little moan pecked at his control, until it was in tatters.

A vicious hunger fired through his veins, as basic as it was potent. It made his blood hot, his nerve-endings sing, and his body tighten painfully.

He gripped her nape hard in a proprietary hold, skimming his other hand down to cup her ass tight. His. She was his. Every fucking part of her, inside and out.

Teague tore his mouth free. “Strip,” he ordered, his voice like gravel. He whipped off his tee and dumped it on the floor. “I want to fuck my mate.”

“Your mate has something she wants to do first.” Larkin dropped to her knees and snapped open the buttons of his fly.

A low curse of surprise flew out of him. He watched as she fisted his cock, her grip firm and possessive. Then she took him in her mouth—no hesitation, no teasing, no playfulness. She got right down to business.

He sank his hands into her hair, gritting his teeth as she slid her lips down his shaft again and again while keeping her hand curled around the base. “You’re a little too good at this.”

Her eyes flicked to his, hot and hazy with need. So hot her gaze seemed to burn deep into his own. The moment was so fucking intimate it made his balls ache and tighten.

He hissed out a breath as she began sucking harder . . . and before he knew it he was fucking her hot, wet mouth. Holding her head still with his grip on her hair, he pitched his hips forward over and over, sinking deep.

Her eyes glittered with a dare. A dare to lunge harder and deeper. So he did, and she took it—even urged him on with a prick of her nails to his thigh.

Only when he felt an orgasm begin to build did he pull back. Much as he loved it when she swallowed his come, he needed to be in her. He tugged on her hair. “Up.”

The moment she stood, he reached straight for her fly. He tackled it fast, backing her into the wall, while she hauled off her tee. He crouched down and peeled away her jeans and panties.

Driving two fingers inside her, he groaned. She was already slick and ready for him. He suckled on her clit as he pumped his fingers in and out, wanting her wetter. Needier. So desperate to come she’d curse at and threaten him all while yanking at his hair so hard it hurt.

It didn’t take long before it got to that point.

Only then did he stand and hoist her up, finding her now delightfully braless. He swiped the items off the surface of his dresser and planted her on it. As she looped her legs around him, he inched the head of his dick inside her.

“There’s no going back after this,” he warned, gripping the underneath of her thighs. He didn’t merely mean to fuck her, he meant to claim her.

“Obviously.” She dug her fingers into his shoulders. “Now move.”

He slammed his hips upwards, forcing his cock deep, making her head fall back with a sharp gasp. A snarl built in his throat as her scalding hot pussy spasmed around him. “Mine.” The word was low. Deep. Pure steel.

She lifted her head to meet his gaze. “And you’re mine.” She fisted his hair with one hand, her eyes blazing, and curled her free arm around his shoulders. “You try to leave me and I’ll kill you.”

He felt his lips curl. “I really love it when you snarl.”

He took her hard. Because he could. Because he needed it. Because his demon needed it. Because both he and his beast needed her to feel their claim to her; feel that it ran soul-deep and she’d never be free of them.

Her scent swirled around him, drugging his senses, making him more frantic to take and own and fuck. Her pupils all but gone, she didn’t look away, letting him see everything she felt. A feverish hunger. A blinding pleasure. A dangerous possessiveness. A ferally desperate need to explode.

He kept pounding hard, growling when her nails pricked the skin of his shoulder hard enough to draw blood. His beast loved it when she did that. Loved that animalistic edge to her.

“Bed,” she rasped. “Move to the bed. I want to ride you.”

She asked that often, a fan of being in control. Sometimes he went along with it, sometimes he didn’t. Tonight, he didn’t want to. So he bit at those lips that were red and swollen from sucking him off and said, “No.”

Her eyes flared. “Yes.”

“No.”

She ragged at his hair. “Don’t think you can—”

“You’ll take what I fucking give you.” Upping his pace, he angled his hips so that he rubbed her clit with every ram of his cock. The fight left her in a rush, her inner walls rippling and heating as her release crept closer.

“Come,” she coaxed.

“You first.” He bit into her throat, hearing her hiss at the sting of his venom. The pain threw her over, just as he’d known it would. She choked on a scream as she came, her pussy milking his own orgasm out of him as he drove his hips up harder and faster, slamming his dick as deep as it would go, wanting his come so deep she’d never get it out.

Their orgasms subsided, seeming to drain them of strength as they did so. They stood there, weak and panting and trembling.

After long moments, Teague carried her to the bathroom, helped her clean up, and then settled them both on the bed. Sprawled on their backs, they strived to catch their breath.

Her muscles deliciously loose and lazy and just the right amount of ‘sore’, Larkin swept her tongue over her dry lips. “Just so you know, I love you. And I should probably make you aware that you love me, too.”

Teague looked at her, a line denting his brow. “I do?”

“Yeah.”

His frown deepened. “You sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Huh.” His gaze turning pensive, he poked his tongue into the inside of his cheek. “I can’t say if you’re right on that.”

She weakly flapped a hand. “I can, so don’t worry about it.”

“Hmm.” Twisting his mouth, he rolled toward her. “Maybe we should review this at a later—”

“We both know I’m right, don’t make me hurt you.”

His mouth quirking, he palmed the side of her neck, his gaze flitting over her face. “Yeah, you’re right. I love the fucking bones of you.” He gave her a quick, hard kiss. “Soon as I can, I’m putting a black diamond on your finger.”

Larkin’s insides seized in pure shock. A good kind of shock, but still. Demons only gave a black diamond to those they were wholly committed to. Hence why her demon gave a joyous little clap. “How soon?”

“Like, tomorrow.”

Her brows flew up. “That’s not too fast for you?”

He gave her a look that called her slow. “I’m a hellbeast, baby. When we claim something, we claim it very thoroughly. We put our mark all over it. And we don’t let it go.”

Thatshe had no issue with. “You’d better wear the ring I buy you, or we’re gonna have problems.”

“Why would you think I might be difficult about it?”

“Because you’re you.” Nothing could be simple or easy with him—she’d resigned herself to that.

“I’ll wear it. Probably on my toe, though. I don’t like wearing stuff on my fingers.”

“You wear gloves almost every day when you ride your bike.”

“Not seeing your point.”

Larkin gave him a hard look. “You will wear a black diamond ring on your finger or pay the price.”

His eyes lit up in interest. “What’s the price?”

“I won’t wear yours.”

Just like that, the light in his gaze dulled. “That’s not acceptable.”

“Then stop being difficult.”

“I don’t know how.”

“Learn.”

A corner of his lips winged up. “Your eyelid just twitched again. I’m telling you, it’s gonna be a permanent thing before you know it, you’ll—” He cut off when she growled, and his mouth curved even more. “I swear, that sound does shit to me.” He shuddered in what seemed like delight. “I need to record it. I could use it as my ring tone.”

“You don’t have a cell phone.”

His eyes slid to the wall. “Oh, yeah,” he finally remembered . . . like that was something a person could forget. He shrugged. “I’ll use it as my doorbell, then.”

“You don’t have a doorbell either.”

“Hmm, I guess I could use it as my alarm.”

“That would work. If you had an alarm clock. Which you don’t.”

He threw her a put-out look. “What is it with you and technicalities?”

More than ready to bring the pointless conversation to a halt, Larkin sighed long and loud. “Just kiss me.”

“Why?”

“Because it will shut you up.”

He gave her a mock frown. “That’s not very nice. You should make it up to me. Preferably by letting me stick some ginger peel up—”

“Teague, if you don’t quit with this, I swear . . . ”

His forehead creased. “Ah, come on, the Romans were all over it.”

“They used it as a form of torture, not pleasure.”

“Don’t be closed-minded. Where’s your sense of adventure?”

“Nowhere up my ass. But I’m all for shoving some ginger peel up yours. Interested?” She wasn’t surprised when he looked close to rearing back in horror. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

His eyes went wide. “I didn’t say anything!”

“You didn’t have to. But hey, tell me if I’m wrong.” He didn’t. She let out a humph. “Figured as much.”

“I didn’t say anything!”

Closing her eyes, Larkin planted her palm over her face. “Teague, just sleep. Now.”

“Do I have to?”

“Yes.”

An unhappy grunt. “Fine. But I don’t know why you persist in being a ginger bigot. It’s not like you’re—Dammit, Lark, nipples aren’t for twisting!”