Chapter Three

CHAPTER THREE

A short time later, Teague and his clan were sprawled around the living space of his wagon, their minds still blown. The skin of his throat felt unbearably hot and tight, but the blisters were beginning to fade. His breed healed quickly, but injuries delivered by hell-born species tended to take longer to heal, for some reason.

Tucker rubbed a dark-skinned hand over his buzzcut. “I think I speak for all of us here when I say that—”

“Don’t,” said Saxon, petting the Alpha bloodhound who sat between his spread thighs. “Don’t bother. Because most of the time, no one else here is thinking what you’re thinking.”

“So it’s not just plain wrong for any demon to be able to grow tentacles on a whim?” Tucker challenged.

Leo twisted his mouth, sliding his gaze to Saxon. “That wasn’t what I was thinking, but he does have a point.”

“Thank you.” Tucker leaned forward in his seat, sending the scent of marijuana wafting toward Teague, and then braced his elbows on the dining table. “It’s been a long time since we last saw any shadowkin, huh?”

Leaning against the side of the china cabinet from his spot on the cushioned bench, Archer dug a hand into his paper bag, plucked out a mushroom, and tossed it into his mouth. “Not long enough.”

“I’d forgotten just how damn speedy they were,” said Teague, stroking Reggie’s head. The dog hadn’t moved far from his side since rushing into the wagon and now sat beside his chair like a sentry. “I’m pissed that it got away. They’re slippery little fuckers.”

Shadowkin might be powerful and difficult to kill, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t flee from a losing battle. They were predators who thought in a more animalistic sense than the humans they vaguely resembled in shape. Even a lion would turn away if outnumbered.

“The question is,” began Gideon, sitting on the floor with his liquor bottle between his legs, ignoring that Baxter kept sniffing at it, “who sent the shadowkin after you, will it come back, and why were you targeted?”

“That was three questions,” Archer pointed out.

Gideon’s forehead creased, his expression pensive. After a few moments, he shook his head in annoyance, making his wavy shoulder-length red hair flutter. “You’ve got nothing better to do than count?”

“You’ve got nothing better to do than pour brandy down your throat?” Archer shot back with enough piousness to rival that of any priest.

“It helps me think,” Gideon insisted, inching up his bearded chin. “And where do you get off on being so judgmental about big drinkers? You practically live on weed and magic mushrooms.”

“That’s different. They were put here by nature. Alcohol wasn’t.”

On the opposite end of the cushioned bench from Archer, Saxon let out a heavy sigh. “Can we focus on what’s important here?” He cut his blue gaze to Teague. “Did the shadowkin tell you anything?”

“No. I didn’t get a chance to communicate with it.” The only way it could converse was through telepathic images. “There wasn’t much of a showdown. The demon appeared out of nowhere, attacked hard and fast, and left just as quickly when you all turned up.”

Rasping a hand over the blond scruff on his jaw, Slade said, “Shadowkin can only be called on by three people.” He absently plucked at his collar, which sported an old bloodstain—most of his clothes did, but he didn’t bother replacing many. “I don’t think Vine would have sent it. He wished us well when we went our own way, and he has no personal beef with you. I can’t think of a reason he’d want you dead.”

“Same goes with Zagan,” said Leo, sitting on the floor with his back propped up against the doorjamb between the living space and bedroom. “You two butted heads occasionally, Teague, but he always respected you, just as you respected him.”

“Which leaves one person.” Slade shifted in his seat, almost knocking the bag of mushrooms out of Archer’s hands and into the jaws of Dutch, who’d been eyeing the bag while licking his muzzle. “Only one other figure of authority can pull shadowkinstrings. But we don’t know who exactly holds that position of power nowadays.”

His gaze on Teague, Saxon swiped a hand over his clean-shaven head. “There’s a way to find out. But to go down that metaphorical path would be to walk right into the hands of whoever wants you dead. Once they learn that the shadowkin failed, they’ll be ready for you to retaliate. They’ll be waiting.”

Teague stroked the underside of Reggie’s tan-furred jaw. “Then they should know better. I would never make it easy for anyone to kill me. If they want me dead, they’ll have to come for me themselves. Because I will kill every other minion they send until they have no option but to back down or face me in person.”

Not that taking out each of the aforementioned minions would be easy. Shadowkin were never easy to take down.

“Let’s look on the bright side,” said Gideon with a smile. “We’ll now have a little action coming our way.” He took a quick gulp of brandy. “It’s been a while since we got any. I miss it.”

Saxon shot him a quelling look. “Then maybe get a job more exciting than producing counterfeit paintings and selling them via our imp-contacts.”

Gideon arched an imperious brow. “What, like contract killing? Not all of us feel comfortable with assassinating people for money.”

Saxon shrugged his wide shoulders. “It’s a more honest profession than how you, Tucker, and Leo make a living.”

Tucker bristled, his elbows slipping off the table as he straightened in his seat. “Now hold on—”

“He’s right, you know,” Leo told Tucker matter-of-factly. The two hustlers could give a masterclass on thievery. They often went on ‘jobs’ with imps. There wasn’t a vault in the world that Leo couldn’t crack open.

Tucker let out a defensive huff. “We do what we must during difficult times.”

Gideon gave a hard nod and then took another long swig of his drink. “So, Teague, our plan is to basically toy with whoever is on your ass by killing their henchmen over and over in whatever creative ways we have in mind?”

Teague pursed his lips. “Yeah. And let’s not make it easy for them. It’ll add to their puppeteer’s frustration and prod them to show here. I don’t suppose anyone has any black salt lying around?”

“You’re thinking we should surround our land with it,” guessed Archer.

Teague nodded. Shadowkin were unable to cross black salt. A circle of it—large or small—would form a barrier so potent it would even act as one between realms, preventing shadowkin from entering the camp either by foot or by a shadow they’d hitched on from hell itself.

“I can buy some from—don’t you dare, Dutch.” Archer protectively hugged his bag of mushrooms against his chest. “The little shit just lurched forward to steal my goods. Go lie with Hugo or something,” he told the dog, tipping his chin toward where the old bloodhound was sprawled in front of the fireplace, but Dutch didn’t move.

Teague cleared his throat. “There’s something else we need to discuss. Something you’re not going to like.” He paused. “As of today, I’m playing the part of someone’s boyfriend to keep matchmakers off her back.”

Everyone exchanged looks.

Gideon snickered in amusement. “You? Do you even know how to act like a boyfriend? I mean, do you know what it entails to be one?”

Teague lifted his shoulders. “Not really. I’ll make it up as I go along. It can’t be too hard.”

“You said we wouldn’t like it,” Saxon noted, his eyes narrowing. “Why?”

Teague sat up a little straighter. “Because the woman in question is Knox Thorne’s sentinel.”

A grim silence met his statement.

Finally, Gideon broke it. “This is a joke, right? Of course it is.” He grimaced. “I don’t get it.”

“No joke,” Teague told him.

Slade shook his head fast. “Why would you do this? There’s a lot we need to keep hidden. If she gets even a whiff of any of it, she’ll relay it to her Prime.”

“Larkin’s not gonna find out anything,” Teague stated, confident. “It would require her to get close to me, and she’ll never do that. She’s a person who holds back from everyone outside her circle. I’m not part of it.”

Tucker folded his arms. “She’s hired you to be her fake boyfriend. Doesn’t sound like she considers you an outsider.”

“Firstly, she didn’t hire me—”

“Wait, you’re not even getting paid for this gig?” Tucker’s face scrunched up. “Then why do it?”

“Two reasons. One, it will keep the female hellhorses with baby-fever off my case for a while—I need the break.”

“They are frustrating as all hell,” muttered Slade, who was often pestered by them—they were drawn to the strength he displayed when taking part in the Underground’s pit fights. There, opponents were not allowed to use their preternatural abilities but could otherwise fight as dirty as they liked.

“Two,” Teague went on, “I owe her a debt.”

Tucker shrugged. “So?”

“So I don’t like being indebted to people. Makes me antsy. And Khloë wants me to repay Larkin by doing this for her.”

“Khloë had a hand in this?” Tucker’s lips thinned. “See, this is why I don’t want an anchor. They complicate things. I like shit to be simple.” He looked at Leo. “Would you want to find yours?”

Fiddling with his cap, Leo frowned. “I don’t know. Would she iron my clothes? I hate ironing. If she’d be up for that, maybe.”

“I’m not looking to find mine,” declared Slade, scratching at his short blond hair. “She’d want to know my business. It would be hard to keep any secrets from her.”

“But you’d be able to trust her to keep them,” said Archer, chewing on another mushroom. “Khloë’s never shared Teague’s secrets with anyone. Not even her own mate.”

Gideon let out a sigh of longing. “I miss her. You should bring her to see us again sometime, Teague. She’s the best drinking partner.”

“All right, we’ve wandered off topic,” Saxon interjected before pinning Teague with a skeptical look. “I’m not buying that you agreed to play the part of Leanne’s—”

“Larkin’s,” Teague corrected.

“Yeah, her,” said Saxon, waving off his error. “I’m not buying that you agreed to act as her boyfriend just to put off female hellhorses and wriggle out of being indebted to her. There’s more to this. What?”

Archer lifted a hand like a kid in the classroom. “I’ll bet I know.” He pointed at Teague. “You’re hot for the harpy. You want an excuse to get your hands on her.”

Teague dug his teeth into his lower lip. “Basically, yeah.” And if this was the most he’d ever get to enjoy with Larkin, he was going to let himself have it.

“How long is the gig gonna last?” asked Tucker.

“At the longest, it’ll be five months.”

“Five?” Leo echoed, frowning.

“She’ll bow out way before then,” said Teague, scratching Reggie behind his ear. “She doesn’t like being around me. And she’ll soon feel bad lying to the people she cares for.”

“Why?” asked Archer, his brow knitting.

“Some people don’t like to lie,” explained Leo.

Archer tilted his head, making his short dark ponytail tip to the side. “But why?”

Leo shrugged. “I don’t know. They just don’t.”

Teague leaned back in his chair. “Look, you don’t need to worry. It’s a fake relationship, so our personal lives will remain separate to the same extent they do now. I’ll never bring her here. I’ll never introduce her to any of you. I’ll never let anything slip that could tip her off. Knox Thorne will therefore remain in the dark.”

Gideon sighed. “I hope you’re right. Because he’ll want us dead for sure. I’d rather we didn’t have to go head-to-head with him.”

“It won’t come to that.” Teague lightly stroked his throat, which was no longer burning, and found that the blisters were gone. “Now, unless anyone has any other questions, I say we get on with our evening.”

When no one threw out any queries, Gideon perked up a little and asked, “Does this mean we can get back to celebrating my birthday?”

Teague felt compelled to point out . . . “It isn’t actually your birthday for another seven months.”

“I want to celebrate it early this year.” Gideon stood. “So, you up for it?”

Teague gave a slight shrug. “Yeah, sure, why not?”

Hearing the door to Knox’s main office in the Underground creak open the next morning, Larkin glanced away from her laptop. He, Tanner, Levi, and Keenan all breezed inside, all slow and casual. They offered her their usual soft smiles or tips of the chin, acting no different than they normally did.

All right.

“Morning,” she briefly bid before returning her attention to her laptop screen. She had a designated desk, but she much preferred doing as she’d done this morning and curling up on one of the two cozy armchairs. They were upholstered with black, butter-soft Italian leather, just like the sofa and desk chairs.

Larkin always chose this particular seat because it was positioned near the large window that overlooked the combat circle, where Levi often fought. Observing bloodthirsty duels was something that both she and her inner demon found somewhat relaxing.

The sleek, modern office was spacious enough to provide workspace for each of the sentinels as well as Knox, though no one’s desk was quite as big as his. The surface of the swanky, executive monstrosity was neat as a pin despite being crowded. The hi-tech, three-screened computer sat on its center, flanked by stationery and papers and other office devices.

Skimming through yet another report from a member of their Force, Larkin didn’t look up when she sensed her fellow sentinels crowd her chair.

Keenan cleared his throat and then placed something on the armrest.

Recognizing the logo on the box, Larkin didn’t need to open it to know that a cupcake would be inside. He’d apparently ventured to her favorite Underground bakery.

“Peace offering,” he told her.

Larkin swept her gaze over the three faces staring down at her, taking in their soft expressions that held a hint of sheepishness. No, she realized, this wasn’t really a peace offering. Just as their sheepishness wasn’t truly genuine. They merely wanted her to relax and lower her guard so that she’d more easily answer their questions.

She’d seen them use this trick before on others, particularly during interrogations. She was offended that they evidently thought she wouldn’t notice they were now attempting to use it on her.

Idiots.

Tanner slipped his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “We shouldn’t have reacted the way we did yesterday. We were out of line.”

Levi nodded. “Your news took us by surprise, and we handled it wrong.”

“If Teague is who you really want, we’ll support you,” said Keenan.

It took everything Larkin had not to snort. They would never behave so reasonably at the idea of her being with someone who had Teague’s reputation. So their current behavior meant one thing only—they very strongly suspected that her claim was pure bullshit.

She cut her gaze to Knox. He was leaning back in his desk chair, speaking quietly into his phone, but his eyes were on her. And those dark orbs held a smidgeon of skepticism. He didn’t believe her either, but he’d apparently decided not to question her.

She wasn’t worried that she wouldn’t be able to convince them they were wrong. Larkin had been deceiving them for years, and they hadn’t noticed. She’d lied every time she told them that she was ‘over’ what her anchor had done; that she didn’t feel the call of the bond anymore; that she didn’t worry her unstable demon would one day gain supremacy.

As things currently stood, the entity was too protective of Larkin to want to take total control of her. But if that changed, if the demon ever decided to really fight for dominance, it might well get what it wanted.

Larkin had a will as strong as iron.

Her demon’s will was stronger.

“So,” began Keenan, flicking her laptop a quick look, “did anything go down last night that we need to know about?”

“No,” she replied. “Nothing major happened. There was a minor argument between two neighbors, but that was quickly resolved. A drunk couple had a somewhat loud dispute in their friend’s front yard, but they were quick to simmer down when members of the Force showed up. Personally, I’d say that our lair will continue to be on their best behavior until they’ve emotionally recovered from the video that Levi leaked of our newest prisoners being tortured in Knox’s Chamber.”

The reaper shrugged his broad shoulders. “I thought it would be good for the lair to have a reminder of how bad it would be for them if they betrayed their Primes.”

Larkin let out a soft snort. “You thought it would be good for them all to have a reminder of how terribly they’d suffer if they caused any harm to your mate the way those other two bastards did,” she corrected.

Levi inclined his head. “That, too.”

Minutes went by as the guys engaged in more chit-chat. They asked her general, easy, mundane questions, clearly attempting to lull her into a false sense of security. And she knew that, at any moment, they’d slip in a more serious question.

But she didn’t call them on it. Didn’t reveal that she’d sensed what they were doing. No, she waited patiently for them to get to the point.

Tanner scratched at his jaw, his blunt nails scraping the five o’clock shadow that was slightly darker than his short hair. “So, how long exactly have you and Teague been dating?”

Andthere it was.

“Long enough for me to know that it’s going somewhere,” she replied simply.

His gold eyes narrowed slightly. “Huh.” Doubt rang through the word. “I never got the impression that you two were seeing each other.”

“Yeah, you really did fly under the radar,” said Levi ever so casually.

“That was the plan,” Larkin reminded him.

“Why change it?” asked Keenan, a small note of challenge in his voice.

She closed the lid of her laptop. “As I said yesterday, I don’t want to hide the relationship anymore.”

Levi observed her closely, his steel-gray gaze unflinching. “You’re truly serious about Teague?”

She let her brow furrow, as though she were confused by the question. “I don’t know why you feel the need to ask that. You know I don’t enter relationships lightly.”

Folding his arms, Keenan cocked his head. “I wouldn’t have thought he was your type.”

“I wouldn’t have thought that Khloë was yours.” She shrugged, adding, “Life is just full of surprises.”

The incubus snapped his mouth shut, his neutral expression cracking briefly. His frustration was perfectly evident to see. For all of two seconds. Then his ‘I’m simply curious’ mask slammed back up.

Tanner licked the front of his teeth. “I didn’t even think that you and Teague got along. You always seemed to be sniping at each other.”

Larkin lifted a brow. “A little like you and Devon used to, huh?” She almost smiled when his mouth flattened. “That kind of stuff seems to be foreplay for hellbeasts.”

Widening his stance, Levi carved his fingers through his rich brown hair. “What I don’t get is why you gave him a chance in the first place. I mean, you usually avoid hit-and-runs. That’s what he is. Until now, obviously,” he hurried to add.

If she hadn’t known him so well, she might not have picked up the trace of disbelief in his tone. She also might not have sensed that it was killing them all to feign cool and casual when they most wanted to accuse her of blowing smoke up their asses. Which they likely would have done if they hadn’t been perfectly aware that it would only make her clam up and flip them the finger—that wouldn’t gain them the answers they wanted.

She had to admit, it was fun to know that they were internally antsy and annoyed. Welcome to my world, boys, she thought to herself.

Levi flicked up a brow. “Well?”

She tipped her head to the side. “Well, what?”

“You’re ignoring my question.”

“You didn’t ask me a question.”

His lips thinned. “What makes him so special that you’d go against your personal rule and take him for a one-night spin that, evidently, turned into more?”

She skimmed her gaze over the three males in front of her. “What makes you all so special that I should tell you every little detail about my relationship when you’re closemouthed about your own?” she calmly shot back. “I can’t count the number of times I’ve been told that something isn’t my business.”

His mouth bopping open and closed, Keenan thumbed his earlobe. “We’re just curious, that’s all.”

“So was I when I had questions,” she said. “I was also concerned and feeling a mite protective. You all still told me to butt out. Well, now I’m telling you the same thing.”

The three men exchanged looks.

Blowing out a long breath, Keenan carved a hand through his blond hair. “Fine.”

“Fine,” Tanner chimed in, clearly unhappy.

Levi sighed, scratching at his nape. After a few moments, he dropped his arm and shrugged in defeat. “All right, Lark, if Teague means something to you and makes you happy . . . well, that’s what’s important. We’ll make an effort to get to know him better.”

A pinch of cunning flickered in Keenan’s hooded blue eyes. “Yeah. I suppose you’re coming with him tonight.”

“Tonight?” she echoed.

Keenan dipped his chin. “For a family dinner at Jolene’s house. Me, Khloë, Harper, and Knox will be there, among others. Teague’s always invited. He surely asked you to be his plus-one now that you two are out of the closet.”

God, she was gonna punch the incubus right in the dick if he didn’t just back off sometime soon. “I told him I’d skip it,” lied Larkin. “It’s a family thing. I’m not family.”

“Neither is Teague, technically. As Khloë’s anchor, he’s an honorary member—she always took him as her plus-one before we became mates. Now she takes me. But Jolene didn’t stop inviting him; she likes having him at her table. Which, of course, I’m sure you know. She’d love it if he brought you along.”

“It’s too short notice for her—”

“Seriously, she’d be fine with it. She’s added extra people at the last minute before.” Keenan smiled, and there was a shrewd edge to it. “If you and Teague are serious, it’s only right that you’re there with him.”

Tanner nodded, a smirk playing around the corners of his mouth. “Absolutely.”

“I’ll let Jolene know you’ll be there,” Levi told her, fishing out his phone.

The three then dispersed, looking very pleased with themselves.

God, there were such twats.

They’d backed her into a corner. She could get out of it, of course. But the more excuses she made for why she shouldn’t be there, the more suspicious they would become.

While she’d have no problem eating at Jolene’s table—the woman was a great cook—Larkin wasn’t keen on being present. Why? Because there was no way that Teague wouldn’t push her by touching her in very non-platonic ways, hoping to make her crack so he’d win their wager.

The thought of him touching her caused mixed emotions to whirl in her stomach. Anticipation, because she’d enjoy it for certain. Unease, because she’d be mortified if he sensed how much she liked it.

Silently cursing her fellow sentinels, she telepathically reached out to Teague. The guys aren’t buying that we’re together, though they’re pretending that they are. They’re pushing for me to go with you to Jolene’s house tonight for dinner. Keenan basically wants to watch us together, and Knox will no doubt join him in that.

More, they figured she wouldn’t be able to keep up the act if it meant kissing and touching Teague . . . much as the hellhorse himself figured she wouldn’t.

Moments later, his familiar psyche touched hers. Then it’s best you come along. What time do you want me to pick you up?

Pick me up?

Boyfriends do that, don’t they?

Well, yeah, but . . . Your demon wouldn’t be down with me hopping on the back of your bike. She knew enough about hellhorses to know that that sort of thing would be a hot button for his entity.

I’ll borrow my friend’s truck.

All right. Pick me up at six. I’ll be ready.

And naked, microphone in hand, to practice your upcoming bar performance?

She felt her eyes narrow. Won’t happen, Seabiscuit. Now go chew some grass or something.

His low chuckle echoed around her head, and then his mind withdrew.

Opening the lid of her laptop, she got back to work. The other sentinels didn’t quiz her further throughout the day. But they occasionally made dumb little comments while smiling . . .

I’m looking forward to getting to know Teague better.

It’s so great that you’ve finally met someone you really like, Lark.

We’ll have to take him on a guys’ night out. Don’t worry, we’ll bring him back. He’ll even be in one piece. Probably.

Knox didn’t contribute. Mr. Tall, Dark, and Far Too Perceptive continued to watch her with those penetrating eyes. He didn’t hide that he doubted her claims, but he also didn’t comment on it—just silently conveyed that he wasn’t yet convinced.

Whatever.

She was glad when her shift was over. She needed a break from the assholes. Especially when she’d be having a not-so-relaxing dinner with two of them later.

The drive to her complex was relatively short. Knox owned it, along with many other properties, and he only rented the apartments to demons from their lair. He, Harper, and their little boy lived in a huge-ass mansion. All three male sentinels used to reside in this very complex, but Keenan moved in with Khloë shortly after they mated.

After pulling into the building’s private parking lot, Larkin whipped her car into her designated spot. Contemplating what to wear for the meal, she hopped out of the vehicle and locked it with the key—

She wasn’t alone.

Larkin whirled on the spot, her muscles bunching.

Slow, easy footsteps sounded from within the shadowed area in front of her, becoming louder with each stride. Then a long, lean male, dressed in what was likely a tailored suit, stepped out of the shadows and came to a smooth halt. He fixed his cool blue eyes on hers. “Hello, Larkin.”

She froze. Froze from head to fucking toe. The sight of him was a nauseating punch to her gut. Her demon stirred with a furious hiss.

This was no stranger. This was someone she hadn’t seen or heard from in over thirty years. Someone she hadn’t expected to ever come in contact with again.

As her pulse lost its steady rhythm, her psyche violently lunged for his, instinctively attempting to connect with it. Larkin acted fast, slamming up a barrier that would prevent the anchor bond from forming.

Yeah, he was her goddamn anchor.

Technically, anyway. In practice? Oh, he couldn’t be further from it.

Psi-mates were everything you needed—a friend, a close confidant, a rock, a protector, someone who you could trust to never betray you. But Holt had been none of those things to Larkin. Never would be.

Taking a subtle, steadying breath, she mentally fortified her psychic defenses, bolstering the chokehold she’d put on the mental magnetic pull she felt around him.

Anger surged through her. Anger that he’d hurt her. Anger that he hadn’t stayed away. Anger that fate had unfairly lumbered her with an anchor who felt no loyalty toward her.

“It’s been a long time.” His gaze swept over her, intent and glinting with a possessiveness that made her demon emit another outraged hiss. “You look good.”

She hated that there was such a soothing quality to his low, rich voice. Nothing about the big blond bastard should be soothing. Holt might come across as calm, cultured, and elegant, but a civilized aggression lurked beneath the surface.

He was dangerous. Ruthless. Devious. Powerful for his kind. Cambions—being a hybrid of human and demon—tended to sit low on the power spectrum, and their inner entities could lie dormant. In most cases, they were more human than demon. Holt was an exception to that.

He briefly glanced at her building. “Can we go inside and talk?”

“No,” she said, her voice dead.

He didn’t seem surprised by her response. “Ten minutes. Just give me ten minutes to say what I came to say. Then I’ll go.”

If he truly thought she’d let him into her home, he was high. But she would hear him out, because she knew Holt; knew he’d only come back if she refused. She wanted him gone from here and from her life.

Larkin folded her arms and planted her feet. “You have five minutes. Make them count.”

A slight sigh escaped him. “I don’t blame you if you hate me.”

There had been a time when she’d hated him with a darkly pathological passion. But she had refused to hold onto that black emotion, because clinging to it hadn’t harmed anyone but herself. Nowadays, what she felt toward him was what she considered a healthy anger. It was bright and hot, but not toxic or edged with bitterness.

“I’d hate me in your position,” he went on. “I let you down.”

That was putting it lightly.

“Not a day goes by when I don’t wish I could rewind time and do something different. But I don’t suppose you believe the latter.”

“No, I don’t,” she readily admitted. “Nothing stopped you from trying to fix things. You could have come back at any point.”

He took a slow step toward her. “I’m here now.”

“Why?”

“To do what I should have done years ago. To claim you as my anchor. I want us to form the bond.”

Larkin barked an incredulous laugh. “You’re out of your mind if you think I’d be up for that.” Her demon didn’t laugh. It snarled and flipped him the finger, imagining stabbing that finger right into his eye.

His blue gaze went icy. “Don’t tell me that you can’t feel the bond’s call. It’s like a pull in the back of my head day and night. It never goes away. I know it’s the same for you.”

For a long time, the call had been a low pulse that existed in a deep recess of her mind. A pulse she’d gotten so accustomed to that it no longer caused her the same level of discomfort that it once had. But now that he was here, the call was stronger. More intense. Worse, it was front and center in her mind all over again.

“That doesn’t mean I want to do anything about it,” she said.

A muscle in his cheek ticked. “We’re psi-mates, Larkin. We’re linked by fate itself.”

“That hasn’t been much of a factor for you until now.” It had long ago ceased meaning anything to her and her demon. “I won’t ask what’s changed for you, because I simply don’t care.”

“I don’t believe that. I won’t believe for a moment that you don’t wish things could be different. They can be different, Larkin.”

“No, they can’t. I don’t want them to be. I’m perfectly fine without you.” She was better off without him—Levi had been right on that score.

Holt’s nostrils flared. “I fucked up. I know that. But people change, people—”

“You expect me to believe you’ve changed? Really?” He couldn’t be serious.

“It’s the truth. That’s why things can be different now. I know it won’t be easy for me to gain your trust. I’m not expecting it to be.”

“It wouldn’t be tricky, Holt. It would be impossible. My demon isn’t even inclined to attempt to trust you—it wants not one thing to do with you. And neither do I.” Shaking her head, she took a step back. “You shouldn’t have come here.”

His eyes narrowed. “Larkin—”

“Your time is up. Go. And stay gone.”

She spun on her heel and made a fast, graceful beeline for her building without once looking back. Inside the complex, she went straight to her apartment, shut the door, and leaned back against it.

Then she promptly started to shake.

Fuck.