Chapter Nine

CHAPTER NINE

The next morning, Teague stepped out onto the porch of his wagon, a mug of half-empty coffee in hand. He usually prepped his breakfast and then ate it in the clearing, where the entire clan typically gathered each morning just as they had now. But today, he’d eaten alone, knowing that—since the others would for sure shower him with questions the moment they noticed the brand, interfering with his ability to enjoy his food in peace—he’d have otherwise struggled to chomp his breakfast down without it going cold.

Just thinking of the brand made him automatically remember all that had followed last night. It turned out that there had been plenty of substance to his prediction that a single taste of the pretty harpy would intoxicate him.

He hadn’t lingered at Larkin’s place after fucking them both raw. Not that she’d coldly tossed him out, or that he’d felt the need to leave in a hurry. There had simply been no reason for him to hang around. She’d made that clear shortly after their orgasms had fully subsided . . .

“So, how long do hit-and-run guys usually stick around after sex?” she’d asked with a teasing smile. “Am I going to come out of the bathroom to find that you’ve done such a spectacular disappearing act that it’ll feel as if you were never here in the first place?”

Already greedy for more of her, despite being utterly sated, he’d stared at her for a long moment before asking, “What if I don’t want this to be a one-time thing?”

Her smile had dimmed. “I have zero interest in a no-stringsattached-fling, Teague. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t judge you for sticking to shallow encounters. I’m simply saying it’s not for me. I don’t regret what happened tonight, but I’m not interested in a repeat. Besides, you pledged oaths to Khloë. You’ve already broken one of them once. I’d say it’s best that you don’t do it again.”

She’d moved as if to rise from the bed, so he’d caught her jaw, turned her face to his, and then taken her mouth. She’d kissed him back—no hesitance, no half-heartedness.

Pulling back, he’d then said, “I know I shouldn’t have broken my word to Khloë. But I don’t wish I hadn’t. You were worth it.”

As he’d once told her, he didn’t ‘do’ regret. Never had. But even if the emotion didn’t elude him, he doubted he could have wished away all that happened.

Snapping back to the present, he took a swig of his coffee. His clan were gathered around the clearing. Archer and Slade sat across from each other near the firepit, munching on food. A humming Gideon lay flat on his back on the picnic table, his arms crossed over his chest like a corpse at rest. Saxon lounged in a deck chair while Tucker gave him an earful about something as he loomed over him.

The latter wasn’t uncommon. In many ways, watching Tucker rant at Saxon was like seeing a terrier front a bull mastiff. The terrier would yap and yap as it tried asserting its dominance. The mastiff, so sure of its strength and power, would pay the other dog no real mind.

“Morning all,” Teague greeted, descending the steps. He felt his brow furrow as he took in the amount of blood stains on Saxon’s face, hands, and clothes. “Rough night?”

Chewing on toast, Saxon shrugged one shoulder. “Something like that.”

The assassin preferred up-close-and-personal kills, so he occasionally came home in such a state, but not often.

As Teague sat on a log, Tucker turned to him and then gestured at Saxon as he said, “Would you tell him it’s unhygienic to cook while covered in gore.”

Saxon sighed. “I didn’t cook, I toasted a few slices of bread.”

“While you have blood all over you,” Tucker clipped. “Blood that dripped onto your plate.”

“You get agitated by the strangest things.” Saxon bit into his toast. “I don’t get why.”

“There’s nothing strange about wanting you to wash your damn hands before you eat when they look like that. It’s just plain common sense. And how can it not be icky to you to touch food while you have someone else’s blood on your fingers?”

“It’s not like I’m licking it or anything.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Do you even have a point?”

Tucker growled, planting his hands on his narrow hips. “Yes, I do. And you know it.”

A bored sigh slipped out of Saxon. “So determined to be aggressive and imposing. The little man syndrome is at work again.”

“I do not have—” Cutting himself off, Tucker threw his hands up. “You know what? I’m not doing this with you.”

“Okay,” said Saxon with a nod, his voice mild.

Tucker’s expression hardened. “Actually, I am doing this with you.”

“I thought you might,” Saxon muttered.

“Or,” Leo cut in, huddling a bowl of cereal against his chest, “we could all just calm down and use our indoor voices.”

“We’re not indoors,” Archer pointed out, placing his empty plate on the ground beside him.

“Yes, I noticed that,” said Leo, his tone dry. “I’m saying I’d prefer it if we all talked at normal volume.”

Tucker snorted. “It’s not like I’m bellowing or anything, I just . . . Hey, Teague, what’s that on your neck?” He squinted, leaning to the side to get a better look. Moments later, he jerked back like Teague had taken a swipe at him. “Jesus Christ on a cross.”

On the bench, Gideon knifed up. “What? What is it?”

“A wing,” Tucker replied. “But not a wing tattoo. No. Our boy here got branded.”

“Branded?” Slade echoed, standing. “No way.” He crossed to Teague and took a good look at his neck. “Shit, yeah, that’s a brand all right.”

“I take it that Leanne’s demon marked you,” Saxon guessed, clearly displeased.

“Her name is Larkin. And yes, her entity—who, on a side note, is adorably nuts—branded me. But it wasn’t an act of possessiveness.” Still, Teague’s demon felt very much self-satisfied by the knowledge that he now wore her entity’s mark.

“Then why did it do that?” asked Gideon, his nose wrinkling.

Teague stretched out his legs. “To sum up the situation, Larkin’s anchor—a man who is one sorry excuse for a psimate, abandoning her years ago rather than claiming her—has reappeared on the scene. Her demon doesn’t like it. It wants to provoke him so he’ll give it a valid excuse to kill him that won’t rebound back on its lair. And since he has a thing for Larkin . . . ”

“He’ll hate the brand and possibly lose his shit,” Slade finished, retaking his seat.

“That’s what the entity is banking on. It’s a loon. Wants to torture me for fun.” Teague smiled. “It said it likes the shape of my skull.”

Gideon’s mouth curved. “Aw, that’s sweet.”

“Her anchor might come at you,” Saxon said to Teague. “You know that, right?”

Teague hoped the cambion did, because he’d be more than happy to pound the fucker into the ground. “It won’t be anything I can’t handle.”

“Who is he?” asked Leo.

“Holt something.” Teague knocked back the last of his coffee. “He’s a cambion. And a Canadian Prime.”

“I’ll look into him.” Spooning some of his cereal, Leo added, “If I find out anything of interest, I’ll pass it on.”

Teague dipped his chin in thanks and then set his cup down between his legs.

“So,” began Archer, his eyes narrowed on Teague, “I’ve never been branded, but I’m pretty sure it happens during sex, right? Does that mean you fucked Larkin?”

“We weren’t having sex when the branding was done,” replied Teague. “Like I told you, it wasn’t an act of possessiveness on her entity’s part.”

“Which answers my first question, not my second,” Archer noted.

Saxon narrowed his eyes at Teague. “You fucked her, didn’t you?”

Teague only twisted his mouth.

Slade let out a soft curse. “You said she wouldn’t want to get close to you.”

“And she doesn’t,” Teague assured him. “Sex is just sex. She made it clear that though she has no regrets, she only wants it to be a one-time thing.”

“What about you?” Slade challenged. “Are you good with that?”

“No, as it happens. But it’s not a matter of whether I’m good with it or not, is it? It’s a matter of us having secrets to protect. So I’m not going to push for more than one night, which means you can unclench. Our secrets will remain secrets.”

Tucker sank into the empty deck chair. “I wouldn’t recommend that you tell Khloë you slept with Larkin. It’s not something the imp needs to know. And it’ll only make her mad.”

“Why would she be mad?” asked Archer.

Leo dropped his spoon into his empty bowl. “By sleeping with the harpy, Teague went back on his word. Some people are weird about stuff like that.” He shrugged, not getting it.

Gideon slipped off the table and crossed to Teague. Taking a closer look at the brand, he smiled. “It’s actually pretty cool.”

Teague couldn’t hold back his grin. “I know, right?”

Saxon carefully braced his plate on the armrest. “You’re entirely too smug about that mark. How does your beast feel about it?”

Truthfully . . . “It wants to bite her really, really hard. At least twice.”

Leo’s mouth twitched. “So it’s feeling a little territorial?”

“And frustrated, because she’s seriously against being bitten.” Archer frowned. “Why?”

Leo looked at him. “She’s not a hellbeast, so his venom would hurt her.”

“It wouldn’t kill her, though,” said Archer. “She’d be fine after an hour or so. Maybe longer. I’m not seeing the problem.”

“But it’s best that Teague’s demon doesn’t bite her—the beast would feel even more possessive if its venom was flowing through her veins,” said Saxon before sliding his gaze back to Teague. “It might be better to quit playing the role of her boyfriend.”

Teague couldn’t stop his expression from hardening. “Not while her psi-mate is being a pain in her ass. And it’s not like bowing out would change anything, is it? My demon was slightly possessive of her before now. Keeping my distance wouldn’t alter that. Seeing the mark fade will likely do the trick, though.” Because it would symbolize that her entity had lost interest in them.

Slade folded his arms. “What if it doesn’t fade?”

Teague felt his forehead crease. “Of course it’ll fade.” And no, he wouldn’t like it much.

“Don’t be so sure,” Slade cautioned. “Harpies have similar tendencies to birds like magpies and crows. They collect shiny things. If her demon collects you, that brand will go nowhere irrespective of whether you two part ways.”

Unable to envision that ever happening, given Larkin’s comment that her demon was very distant and tended to avoid attachments, Teague shook his head. “No, the mark will fade eventually. As will my demon’s possessiveness.”

“Let’s hope so.” Saxon grabbed his plate and then stood. “I’m hitting the sack. Unless there’s an emergency, don’t come knocking on my door. I need sleep. Lots and lots of sleep.”

“What you need is to wash your hands,” Tucker snarked.

Saxon gave him a dismissive look. “Back to that, are we, little man?”

“My name is Tucker.”

“Really? It’s not Frodo? Hey, don’t growl at me, short-ass.”

“I’m not short! And you might have a few inches extra on me in height, but my extra inches went on my dick.” Tucker gave him a cocky smile. “So, guess who wins here.”

“The little guy with the Napoleon complex?”

“I’m not little!”

As Larkin stepped into the busy bakery with Piper, making the bell above the door chime, a familiar male mind nudged hers. A mind that hummed with agitation.

Keenan’s voice then rushed into her head . . . Tell me it’s bullshit.

She felt her brow furrow. What?

Tell me your demon didn’t brand Teague.

Larkin sighed, which caused Piper to raise a questioning brow. Larkin tapped her temple and mouthed ‘Keenan’. News traveled fast in the demon world, so she’d known the incubus would hear about the brand relatively soon. She’d also anticipated that he wouldn’t take it well. How did you find out?

Wait, so it’s true?asked Keenan, the pitch of his telepathic voice shooting up a notch.

Yes, it’s true.Rolling her eyes at the string of curses he let out, Larkin joined the long queue with Piper as she scanned the shop. Unfortunately, there were no vacant tables or booths as of yet. It was no shock, given that this particular bakery within the Underground was often crowded in the mornings.

How did you find out?she repeated.

Teague telepathed the news to Khloë, who then told me. But let’s face it, he likes to bullshit people for reasons only he understands, so I thought he might be lying.

Well, he wasn’t. I’m not sure why you’re so surprised by this. You know my demon can be pretty territorial.That might not be what had driven the entity to brand him, but it nonetheless felt that way toward him.

I didn’t think it’d be possessive ofhim. Dammit, Lark, I want better for you than a damn player.

She felt her brow flick up. Uh, excuse me, Mr. Hypocritical, you did your fair share of playing the field before Khloë. Now go find something better to do than whine at me. She closed a mental door on him, uninterested in listening to more. She’d reopen it later.

Larkin then psychically reached out to Teague. You telepathed Khloë about the brand? She hadn’t expected that. She’d thought he’d just let her find out in her own sweet time.

His mind slid against hers. Don’t you think it would have looked weird to others if I hadn’t bragged to my psi-mate that my girlfriend branded me?

Not whatsoever liking that her pulse stuttered at the mere sound of his telepathic voice, she asked, Did you tell her about everything else that happened last night?

You mean that I fucked you until you screamed for me?

Her face was not heating. Yeah. That.

Not yet, but I will. Don’t worry, she won’t be as furious with me as you’re thinking she’ll be.

Larkin highly doubted that. The imp had a temper, and the breaking of a vow was no small matter. If you say so.

Pulling her mind away from his, Larkin dragged in a steadying breath, taking in the delicious scents of fresh bread, cinnamon, coffee, honey, and warm chocolate.

For such a small shop, the bakery could be loud. It wasn’t just due to the murmurs and chuckles of customers. There were also the clatters of plates, the whirring of the industrial mixer, the background music, the scraping of cutlery against dishware, and the beeps coming from timers and the cash register.

“Everything okay?” asked Piper.

“Keenan learned about the brand via Khloë and felt the need to moan at me.” She’d already told Piper about how her entity took it upon itself to mark him.

“I still can’t believe your demon did that. I mean, my entity is devious. But it ain’t that devious. You’re lucky that his demon didn’t mark you right back.”

Larkin felt a frown tug at her brow. “It has no actual reason to.”

“And why would you think that’ll matter to a hellhorse? They don’t require their actions to make sense.”

Okay, there was that to consider. “Still, I doubt it will do anything like that,” she said, keeping an eye on the small sitting area. The moment a table or booth became available, they’d need to pounce.

“Maybe not. You know, while I’m surprised by what your demon did, I’m not surprised that you fell into bed with Teague. The chemistry between you two is, like, whoa. It just kept building and building over time. Now that you’re sleeping together—”

“We slept together. Past tense, not present. We’re gonna leave it at that.”

Piper jerked, her expression baffled. “Dear God in heaven, why?”

“Are you forgetting the oath he made to Khloë about not getting his freak on with her friends?”

“He already broke that promise once. Is there much difference in him doing it again?”

Larkin opened and closed her mouth. She wanted to say no, but she wasn’t certain it would be for the right reason; wasn’t certain that it wouldn’t be a mere case of her selfishly giving herself the green light to go another sexual round with him. “I guess it doesn’t really matter, does it? I’m not interested in a fling.” Seeing a couple rise from a table, she quickly gave Piper a nudge. “Go grab that empty table before someone else does. I’ll place our order and then bring it over.”

“I want my usual,” said Piper, making a swift beeline for the table, grinning when she beat others to it.

Larkin knew the nightmare’s ‘usual’ well, since they often came to the bakery on mornings when they were going on a girls’ day out. On this particular day, they had plans to go shopping at the mall.

Larkin adored all the women in their group, but she had a soft spot for Piper. They’d fast become close friends—something that wasn’t typical for Larkin. By her own admission, she didn’t click with people well.

Just then, Tanner’s psyche clashed with hers mere moments before his voice breezed into her mind . . . Your demon branded the hellhorse? Seriously?

Rolling her eyes yet again, she proceeded to have with him a shorter version of her conversation with Keenan. She did the same with Levi very soon after that.

Finally, she reached the stainless steel counter. Many employees pottered around, dressed in aprons and hairnets. Behind the glass case was everything from sandwiches and bagels to donuts and cupcakes.

Larkin placed her order, resisting the temptation to greedily add one of the pre-prepared white boxes of cupcakes. The latter were her weakness, and she was feeling inwardly unsteady after the branding business and her one-nighter with Teague.

Her demon, on the other hand, was still feeling so self-satisfied about it all that it had been smirking all morning. It wasn’t annoyed that Larkin intended for there to be no repeat of last night. Purely because it didn’t believe she’d hold out against him. Honestly, Larkin couldn’t promise that she would.

She moved to the cash register and paid for her order before heading to the collection point on the far left of the counter. She took a seat on one of the stools at the small bar there . . . which was right around the time that she felt someone’s eyes on her.

Larkin instinctively glanced to the side, her lips thinning when she saw Holt slowly heading her way with two males close behind him. That quickly, her demon’s smirk died a fast death. She blanked her expression as she reached out to Piper. Don’t move from the table.

The woman’s psyche all but clashed against hers. Is that blond dude him? The motherfucker who has the nerve to call himself your anchor when he’s been anything but that to you?

Yes, unfortunately. Stay where you are while I get rid of him.

Fine. But if he or his goonies make any unwise moves, I amso heading over there.

The aforementioned goonies took up positions around the bakery, hyper-alert. They were clearly sentinels. Holt, however, came to stand in front of Larkin.

Her psyche lunged toward his with such force she inwardly winced, but she’d been ready for it; had already shored up her mental barrier to prevent the bond from forming. That annoyingly didn’t stop its call from pounding through her brain, shoving at her willpower.

Even as anger rose up inside both her and her demon, she didn’t allow her expression to change. Nor did she slip off the stool so that he didn’t have the height advantage. It wasn’t an advantage that he could use—Larkin didn’t worry for a moment that she couldn’t take him down if necessary. “I would have thought you’d be back in Canada by now.”

He gave her a pointed look. “I won’t be so easy to get rid of, Larkin. I could see that I’d given you a shock when I showed up at your place a few days ago, so I gave you time to get used to the fact that I’m back. Now we need to talk.”

“No, we really don’t.”

His jaw briefly tightened. “I don’t blame you for not wanting to make time for me. But I’m not going anywhere. Not until I’ve fixed things between us.”

“You can’t fix things.”

“I don’t accept that,” he said, inching up his chin slightly. “There were so many hurdles for us when we first met. They aren’t there now. I don’t have a Prime who’s giving me shit and threatening to take away my position if I don’t turn your loyalties. I lead my lair now. I’m not under pressure to bring you into it. I can visit you here in the US as much as I want.”

“Oh, so you don’t care that I would never move to Canada or switch to your lair?” Doubtful.

He hesitated, poking his tongue into the inside of his cheek, and she got the feeling that he was being mindful to choose his words carefully. “I wouldn’t say I don’t care,” he finally said, speaking slowly. “Of course I’d rather have you close so I can better protect you. But if you wish your circumstances to remain as they are, I’ll respect that.”

Her entity let out a disbelieving snort. “So you being Prime of your lair is what’s made the difference? That’s why you feel we can finally form the bond?”

“Yes.”

“Huh. Weird.” She scratched her cheek. “I mean, you’ve been Prime for five years now. Yet, you stayed away until recently.”

Surprise flashed in his eyes. If he hadn’t expected her to do a little research on him, he was dumb as a rock.

Hearing her order number be called, Larkin edged off the stool, intending to cross to the collection point. But the dickhead in front of her blocked her path. “You need to move, Holt. Now.”

“I told you, we have to talk.”

“What’s the point when you’re not even willing to be straight with me? You claim you’re here right now because you ascended from sentinel, but there’s more to it than that, isn’t there? Here’s what I think happened. See, I learned that you came to Vegas a month ago on a trip of some sort.”

Again, surprise quickly came and went in his eyes.

“I think you saw me from a distance while you were here,” Larkin went on. “I think your demon reacted rather enthusiastically. I think the entity has been giving you trouble ever since, driving you to seek me out and form the bond. And I think you’ve had enough of fighting it. So you came back to Vegas and, well, here we are.” The only thing she didn’t get was why he’d thought she’d agree to what he wanted.

He licked the inside of his lower lip. “I saw you, yes. You were with Tanner, Keenan, Levi, and who appeared to be their partners. But you . . . you looked so alone. I know that feeling. I’ve felt that way since I left you.”

And then realization smacked her in the face. “Oh, I get it. You asked around, heard that I was the last unmated member of my circle, and you thought you could use that; take advantage of it. You thought I’d be feeling lonely and the odd one out. Thought it would make me more willing to turn to you and maybe even transfer to your lair.”

His back teeth locked. “I’m not asking you to do that,” he calmly reminded her.

“Not now. But you would. You’d push for it eventually. Pushing is what you do. You’ll hate the idea of me being under another Prime’s rule.”

“As I said before, I’d of course rather have you close. I’d say that’s natural,” he added in that oh so reasonable tone that plucked at her patience. “But all I’m asking of you is to give into the pull of the anchor bond.”

She shook her head. “It’s never going to happen. Even if I was up for it, my demon wouldn’t be. It loathes you with a pathological, blinding passion.”

“I’m standing right here telling you—”

“Whatever you think will get you what you want,” Larkin finished. “Maybe you do regret that you walked away years ago. But if so, you don’t regret it for my sake. And it doesn’t change anything because you haven’t changed. You’re still every inch the predatory opportunist. You thought I’d be emotionally vulnerable, and so you pounced.”

A muscle in his cheek flexed. “It wasn’t like that. I saw that you were in pain. I wanted to make it better.”

“I’m not in pain. Far from it.” She’d been lonely, but not hurting.

Just then, someone unexpectedly materialized at her side. Someone who looked the epitome of relaxed but was likely far from it.

Teague’s mouth bowed up slightly as his hand slipped beneath Larkin’s braid to palm her nape. “Hey, baby.” He dropped a soft, brief kiss on her lips that made her nerve-endings sing despite the current situation. “Sorry I’m late.”

Holt’s sentinels appeared behind him, their eyes narrowing on the newcomer.

Teague glanced from her to Holt, his brow creasing as if he’d only then noticed the tension in the air between them. “If this is lair business, I can wait with Piper,” he offered.

“No need,” Larkin told him. “I’m done here.”

Holt’s gaze dropped to the harpy wing on Teague’s neck. A number of emotions rippled across his face in fast succession—rage, bitterness, jealousy, resentment. Unexpectedly, he held out his hand and said, “Holt Wilks. And you are?”

The hellhorse shook his hand. “Teague Sullivan. But you already know that.”

Holt’s brow winched up. “Do I?”

Teague tipped his chin toward one of the sentinels. “Your friend there tried tailing me,” he said, and the sentinel in question flushed. “Is there a reason for that?”

Holt didn’t respond.

Infuriated that he’d have someone follow Teague, Larkin gave Holt a hard, flinty look. “You and your demons need to stay away from me and mine.”

Holt’s nostrils flared. “It doesn’t need to be this way, Larkin.”

“Yes, it does. And the only person you have to blame for that is yourself.” She quickly skirted around him, strode over to the collection point, and grabbed the waiting tray.

Conscious of Teague following her, she headed straight to the table where Piper sat drumming her fingers. Setting down the tray, Larkin lifted a brow at her. I take it you called Teague here.

She sniffed. Holt the Horrible needed to see that brand. Well, now he has.

As Larkin and Teague took a seat, he draped his arm over the back of her chair and asked, “You all right?”

Aware that—in the process of making his way to the exit—Holt was within hearing range, she aloofly replied, “Yeah. Just waiting to hear why it is that you’re late.”

“I got held up,” Teague told her. “Jerking off isn’t always a quick process.”

A chuckle slipped out of Piper.

Larkin shot him an exasperated look that was completely spoiled by the smile pulling at her mouth. “I don’t know why I expect serious answers from you.”

His brows dipped. “Just because it wasn’t the response you were expecting doesn’t mean I’m not serious. It’s your demon’s fault.”

Larkin frowned. “What?”

“One look at this brand in the mirror is enough to make my dick so hard it hurts. I can’t just leave it like that.”

Shaking her head, Larkin began unloading the cups and plates off the tray.

“They’re gone,” Piper announced, her eyes on the exit.

A relieved breath slid out of Larkin.

“What did he say to you?” asked Teague.

“To sum up”—Larkin sipped at her coffee, thankful the bitter brew was still hot despite Holt delaying her attempt to collect it—“now that he’s Prime, nothing stands in his way so we should form the bond. Oh, and he’ll respect that I wish to remain here and not switch lairs.”

Teague’s brows snapped together. “The only thing that ever stood in his way is his own selfishness.”

Piper gave a hard nod, cutting into her slice of apple pie. “Totally.”

“Him becoming Prime wasn’t the catalyst to his decision to pursue the anchor bond or he’d have showed up five years ago.” Larkin bit into her donut, and the vanilla cream filling burst on her tongue. “He saw me from afar while in Vegas last month and it stirred up his demon. He also discovered that I was the last unmated member of my group.”

“So he thought you’d be lonely and, as such, easy prey for him,” Teague surmised. “Motherfucker.”

“Absolutely.” Larkin took an angry bite of her donut.

“He’s irate about the brand.” Piper popped a chunk of pie into her mouth. “Jealous, too. He tried to hide it, but . . . ”

“Irate and jealous but not shocked,” Teague remembered, thinking it strange.

Licking some vanilla cream from her lip, his harpy gave him a questioning look. “Hmm?”

“He showed no surprise.” Teague twisted his mouth, feeling his eyes narrow. “I think he knew about it.”

Her gaze lost focus for a few moments. “You’re right, he didn’t look in the least bit taken aback.”

“I’d say that he’s had people watching you,” said Teague. “Probably studying your routines and seeing who you associate with. If he had one of his men staking out your building last night, they’ll have seen me leave it with a brand of a harpy’s wing on my neck.”

Chewing more pie, Piper hummed thoughtfully. “It would explain why he felt motivated to make a move this morning, Lark. He’ll feel threatened by Teague; Holt will want him out of the picture so he can more easily wangle himself into the picture.”

“And because he wants you as more than his anchor,” Teague told the harpy. “I know you doubt that, but I don’t. Not after the flash of jealousy I just saw in his eyes.” An emotion that his beast—not a fan of the male—had fed on.

Larkin’s nose wrinkled. “It doesn’t mean he wants me. Anchors are possessive of each other. Jealousy often comes into play.” She pinned Teague with a look. “If he confronts you at any point—”

“I will tell you,” the hellhorse assured her . . . though he wouldn’t until afterward. He wasn’t going to call her to his side if the asshole made an approach.

Larkin gave a satisfied nod and bit into her donut again before turning back to Piper. “We can cancel our shopping trip, if you want.”

“Hell, no.” Piper lowered her cutlery to her plate. “My shopping mood is in no way broken.” Lifting her latte, she took a quick sip and then set the cup back down. “And we both need new dresses for the party on Friday.”

“Party?” Teague echoed.

Picking up her knife and fork again, Piper tilted her head at Larkin. “You didn’t invite him?”

“I planned to; I only heard about it an hour ago.” Larkin cut her gaze to his. “Raini’s lair is throwing a party. As descendants, they don’t welcome outsiders, but they don’t mind extending invites to her family and friends. You’ll be my plus-one.”

“I’ll be there.” He used his thumb to scoop up a tiny blob of vanilla cream from the corner of her mouth. “What time shall I pick you up?” He sucked the cream from his thumb, watching as her eyes flared.

She cleared her throat. “Actually, we’re being teleported there by Ciaran as it’s a long-ass drive. Be at my place for seven pm. From there, he’s going to ’port us three plus Devon, Khloë, my Primes, and the other sentinels to the party all in one swoop.”

“Will the descendants have karaoke?” he asked.

Her brow puckering, Larkin tossed the last of her donut into her mouth. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

“I hope they do. It will be good practice for you, since you’ll soon be treating us all to a naked performance.”

“You’re not dropping that wager?” asked Piper with a chuckle, forking more pie.

“And miss the chance to see her sing while butt-naked? No way.”

Her demon rolled its eyes, amused. Larkin didn’t find the wager so damn funny, nor did she like that he assumed she’d be the loser in this scenario. “Look, if you want to believe you’ll win the wager, feel free to do so. It’ll make it all the more fun for me when you lose.”

“You’re that confident?”

Her fingers sticky from the sugary glaze, Larkin tore open the small, square packet on her tray and pulled out the wet wipe. “I’m that confident.”

“Hmm. Guess I’ll have to up my game a little when we’re at the party, then,” he mused.

She paused in wiping her fingers. “What does that mean?” But she had the feeling she knew exactly what it meant: he intended to sexually taunt her just as he’d done during their dinner at Jolene’s house. Only this time, he’d take things up a notch. Shit.

He gave her a mysterious smile. “Don’t worry, pretty harpy. It won’t be anything you can’t handle.”

Honestly—and somewhat annoyingly—she wasn’t too sure of that.