Chapter Three

CHAPTER THREE

She let him take her home. Mostly because fighting him on it only made him smirk and accuse her of being nervous around him. Asshole.

Riding shotgun, Devon couldn’t help but be excruciatingly hyper-conscious of every gloriously masculine inch of him. Tanner might get on her last goddamn nerve, but that didn’t stop her body from reacting to him—stomach knotting, pulse quickening, skin charging with a familiar sexual buzz that made her nerve endings tingle in awareness.

It was senseless to give herself a hard time about it. Her defenses didn’t stand even the tiniest sliver of a chance against all that alpha energy.

Maybe it was like calling to like or something, but her libido always did the mambo for fellow hellbeasts. They liked rough sex—there was often a lot of biting and clawing. That wouldn’t be so bad if they weren’t venomous.

Devon often had to be careful not to bite her sexual partners, since she didn’t want them writhing in pain or being struck by temporary paralysis. But as hellbeasts were immune to each other’s venom, there was no need to hold back with them. There was something very freeing about—

“It’s not like you to be quiet,” he said.

“I’m thinking.”

“About me, right?”

Devon forced a snort. “You’re not that interesting.”

“Hey, it’s okay, kitty cat. I have plenty of impure thoughts about you. I can just imagine us in bed together … Reading. Watching TV. Playing UNO. Doing totally nonsexual things.”

“Do you ever wonder what life would be like for you if you weren’t such a fucking weirdo?”

“You’re not gonna convince me that you don’t like me, kitten. I’ve seen how you look at me. It’s not nice being ogled and objectified, you know. I need a little warmth, sensitivity, and connection.”

She rolled her eyes. “Come back when you’ve grown some pubes, pooch. We both know that could take a while.” He let out a throaty chuckle and, honest to God, her nipples pebbled. She wondered if the guy gargled grit or something—how else could he make his voice that gravel-rough?

Devon turned back to the window, relaxing slightly as she noted how close they were to her apartment building. She was mega tired and needed to crash badly. She also needed to breathe in air that wasn’t filled with the pooch’s scent.

“You always do that when you’re not the one driving.”

Blinking, she looked at him. “Do what?”

“Rest your hand on the door handle, as if you’ll leap out at any moment.”

Her little fists banging the car window, her breaths sawing at her dry throat—

Pushing back the memories, Devon licked her lips. Honestly, she didn’t like being in cars at all. Had found them confining since that day all those years ago. That was why she’d forced herself to learn to drive—it was about facing her fears. As the driver, she was in control, so it wasn’t so bad. But being a passenger always made her nervous.

For months after that terrible day, she hadn’t spoken a word to anyone. Had been terrified to go to sleep as she’d known the nightmares would take her. Had suffered flashbacks that seemed triggered by the smallest things. Had been unable to even look at a photo of her mother without wanting to scream.

Without Gertie, Russell, and her girls, Devon might never have recovered enough to live a life that wasn’t haunted by that day. The nightmares still came now and then, and she had the occasional flashback during periods of stress, but she was as close to okay as she had the potential to be. She’d even been able to have a relationship with her very fragile mother who, unlike Devon, had never moved past what happened.

“No response to that?”

“Was there a question?” She mentally crossed her fingers, hoping he’d let it go—this really wasn’t something she could stomach talking about right then. Seconds of tense silence ticked by, grating on her raw nerves.

Finally, after what felt like minutes, he sighed. “All right, we’ll drop it. For now. Tell me about you and Finn.”

Devon grimaced. That wasn’t exactly a cheery topic either, but it was better than the first. “Finn’s Prime of his lair and a very strategic businessman who’s built himself an empire over the years. He’s nowhere near as rich as Knox, but he certainly has money to burn.” He also didn’t think much of her line of work. Finn was all about logic, reason, and ballpark figures. To him, tattooing held no value and was a waste of time. He felt she could do better with her life.

“I know that much, kitten. I never asked about him, I asked about you and him. I take it you’re not close, since you refer to Russell Clarke as your dad.”

“No, we’re not close. Finn and my mother had a meaningless, one-night stand … and I was the result. She didn’t tell him about me. She didn’t tell me about him. Kept his name secret from everyone. I was eight when Jolene found out Finn was my father. She contacted him.”

“And then what happened?”

“Not much. I’d been living with Gertie and Russell for years by then. I thought of them as my parents, and I was happy there. Finn didn’t want to force me to go and live with him—in fact, I think it suited him just fine that I didn’t want to. His partner had left him, so he had a family to win back; it would have made it a fuck of a lot harder if I was living with him.”

There was a whole lot of information there, Tanner thought. But there was also a lot of holes. “How did your mom die?” he asked, his tone gentle. Nonetheless, she bristled.

“I thought you wanted to know about my relationship with Finn.”

Tanner felt his mouth tighten. His hellcat sure had a lot of no-go subjects. But after the day she’d had, he’d be a fucking asshole if he pushed her to open what was clearly a raw wound. “Finn has other children, right?”

She nodded. “Three.” Like Finn and his partner, they were harbingers whereas Devon took after her mother, who was a hellcat. It was one of many things that set Devon apart from her paternal family, but she didn’t lament that.

“What’s your relationship with them like?”

“Complicated,” said Devon just as he pulled up outside her building. And he immediately tensed. Yeah, she’d figured he wouldn’t like what he saw. Looking at the tall, rundown, graffiti-stained building, she almost sighed. She wished she could say it looked better on the inside than it did on the outside, but that would be a lie.

“You live here?” Tanner asked, voice strangely flat.

“Yep,” she replied, going for nonchalant. He’d given her rides home in the past—mostly when she’d been smashed after a girls’ night out—but she’d shared a place with her cousin back then. It was only when her cousin got serious with some guy that Devon moved out to give them space.

This part of North Las Vegas was far from a good area, but there were worse neighborhoods. The complex might need some major TLC, but it was structurally sound. Sort of.

“Thanks for the ride.” She hopped out of the Audi before he could say a word. It was just as she skirted the hood of the car that he slid out of the driver’s door, his body uncoiling like a snake.

“I want to give the place a once-over,” he said.

She blinked. “What’s that now?”

“There’s a chance that the broker’s men came here. I want to check there aren’t any surprises waiting for you up there.”

Devon’s mouth thinned. “No one who is a threat to me could get inside the walls of my apartment. An incantor from my lair pretty much lavished protective wards all over it.”

“Wards can be undone—I’ve seen it happen.” He prowled toward the building before she could argue further.

Cursing to herself, she followed him. “This really isn’t necessary.”

Stopping outside the main door, he said, “Humor me.”

She went to object again, but then she snapped her mouth shut, knowing she’d be wasting her breath; there was no way of shooing along someone like Tanner Cole. “Fine—have at it.”

Devon unlocked the door, and in they went. As the scents of pot, alcohol, urine, and mouse shit wafted over them, a lick of shame brushed over her skin. She’d never seen Tanner’s home, but she knew from Harper that he lived in one of Knox’s swanky apartment buildings. She’d bet his stairwells weren’t littered with empty beer bottles, cigarette butts, and other debris. Would bet the paint wasn’t peeling from the walls that were riddled with cracks, holes, and splotches of black mildew. Would bet he wouldn’t hear rodents skittering, see doors chained shut, or find squatters here and there.

She spared him a brief glance; his jaw was tight, and his eyes were hard as he scanned their surroundings. Her pride took a hit, but she kept her head high as she led him up the stairwell to her floor and then over to her apartment. She unlocked the door, stepped onto the beige carpet, and then moved aside for him to pass.

He came in and closed the door behind him, his nostrils flaring. “There’s a lot of powerful magick here. I can feel it. Smell it. The incantor sits high on the power spectrum. Just where do you sit on it, kitten?”

Devon snorted. “Do I look slow to you?” Unless they were stupid, no demon revealed something so personal. To answer “low” or even “in the center” was to admit to being vulnerable on some level. Demons were predators. You didn’t admit weakness to a predator. Even to answer “high” wasn’t good. It would intrigue the predator, who might then see them as a potential challenge or feel the need to establish themselves as the dominant figure.

As such, Tanner’s question was the equivalent of asking her to strip naked.

Not that she’d have been particularly opposed to stripping naked for Tanner if things had been different and his demon didn’t ache to gut her open.

“Wait here while I do a walk-through of the place.” He stalked off before she could respond, fully expecting her to do as he’d told her.

Devon snorted and headed into the kitchen/dining area. It was too late for coffee, so she’d settle for hot chocolate. Preparing the drink would give her something to do and distract her from the annoying fact that Tanner was in her apartment.

It made her antsy to have him there. For years she’d made a point of keeping him out of her world as much of possible. Which hadn’t been easy, given that he was not only her friend’s bodyguard, he was ridiculously nosy and seemed to orbit around her … as if testing her defenses or something. And now he was in her private sanctuary, searching every room, probably touching her things. She didn’t like it.

Having added toppings to her drink, she propped herself on the counter and picked up her mug. It wasn’t long before he entered. She didn’t hear him—Tanner rarely made a sound as he moved. But she smelled him, felt his energy charge the air around her. Her inner demon swished its tail at him in a put-out gesture. It didn’t like having people in its territory.

Devon spooned some marshmallows and whipped cream. “I take it you didn’t find any intruders hiding in my wardrobe or anything.”

“The place is clear.” Propping his hip against the counter, Tanner felt his cock twitch as her tongue lapped the cream from her spoon. He could think of far better things she could do with that tongue, but he kept that thought to himself. He just settled in and enjoyed the show as she ate the marshmallows and cream, not even caring that she was pointedly ignoring him. Tanner was just content to have finally made his way into her home.

The apartment had a completely different tone to that of the rest of the building, which didn’t surprise him—Devon would never live in filth. Although the rooms were small, they were also cozy and warm. No grime on the windows or dubious stains on the walls. Her furnishings weren’t top-notch, but they were quirky and clean.

She’d made the best of what space she had, and she’d managed to give the place a surprisingly welcoming feel. There were pictures here, there, and everywhere. Most featured her parents, Harper, Raini, Khloë, and adoptive brother who also happened to be her cousin. It was as if the hellcat liked to surround herself with memories of the people important to her.

Devon Clarke had bags of attitude, but she was also sweet as she smelled—though she hid that soft underbelly from the people outside of her little circle—and never too busy for those she loved. Always made time for them and rushed to their side if they needed her. In his opinion, she didn’t put herself first often enough, which he didn’t like.

He also didn’t like that she lived in this shitty building. Every instinct he possessed urged him to get her out of that hellhole; to put her in a place that didn’t need mouse traps, heavy metal locks, or magickal wards. A place where she wouldn’t be surrounded by what must seem like paper-thin walls to a hellcat’s enhanced hearing.

If he thought for a second that trying to order her out of here would achieve anything, he’d go for it. But Devon wasn’t a person who’d appreciate or allow that kind of interference in her life—something he respected, even as it sometimes annoyed him.

Tanner made a mental note to ask Knox if there were any empty apartments in any of the buildings the Prime owned. Devon didn’t have to be part of their lair to rent one—anyone could. He didn’t say that to her, though. Making disparaging remarks about her home would only poke at her pride.

“You can go now,” she said.

Lips twitching, he heaved a mock sigh. “Always so eager to get rid of me. I’d be offended if I didn’t know you are violently in love with me.”

She gave him a pitying smile. “Being delusional doesn’t help anyone now, does it?”

“Delusional?”

“Sorry, was that too big a word for you? How about ‘pathetic’? Have you heard that one?”

He put a hand to his heart. “That hurt. You should make it up to me. Naked. In bed.”

“Are you kidding? I wouldn’t even fuck you for practice.”

He laughed. “God, kitten, you can be such a bitch.”

Devon might have sniped at him for that comment if he hadn’t said it with approval. “It comes naturally to me. And you really should go. Surely you have stuff to do, places to be, people to see.” Like Eleanor, Devon almost added. No, she wouldn’t mention that heifer, unable to trust that her jealousy wouldn’t seep into her words.

“I like it here. It smells of you.” He dipped his head close to her neck and inhaled deeply. “Your scent makes my mouth water.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You think you’re charming, don’t you?”

“The charm comes and goes.”

Devon gave him an indignant huff. “Shouldn’t you be off chasing your tail or something?” Her stomach clenched as his mouth curled into a sensual, panty-dropping smile.

“You’re doing it again,” he said.

“What?”

“Making me want to bite you,” he replied, dropping his voice into bedroom territory. His gaze raked over her in a way that made her pulse spike. “Hmm, I’d like to mark all that pretty skin.”

“And your hound would like to rip it to shreds.”

“At one time, it happily would have skinned you alive. But it’s grown to tolerate you and your demon.”

Okay, that shocked her.

“I’d say your feline has probably grown to tolerate me just the same.”

“Well, it would no longer like to snack on your heart, but it probably also wouldn’t care if said heart abruptly stopped beating. Does that count as ‘tolerating’ you?”

“Yeah, it’s good enough.” Tanner eyed her soft curls, thinking they’d look good fanned over his pillow as he pounded into her. His cock, already hard and heavy, twitched at the visual.

As he inched a little closer to her, his gaze dropped to the chafe marks on her wrist. The sight made his teeth grind all over again. He took her hand and brushed his thumb over her palm. “If you’d been wearing my mark, the incantor wouldn’t have been so quick to take the job.”

Sipping her drink, she gave him a look that questioned his sanity. “You wouldn’t be able to mark me unless your demon considered me under its protection, which it doesn’t. It might have grown to ‘tolerate’ me, but it’s not going to give a flying fuck what happens to me.”

“You’re wrong about that.”

She snorted. “Our kinds hate each other. There’s no way your demon would offer its protection to a hellcat.”

“It’s pissed about what happened to you. It wants to avenge you.”

“Yeah,” she drawled, all skepticism. “Right.”

Tanner didn’t blame her for doubting him. “I can prove it.” He tightened his grip when she tried snatching her hand back. “If you really don’t believe me, where’s the harm in letting me try?”

Looking bored, she took another sip of her drink. “Even if it didwork—which it absolutely would not—no one would buy that the mark was real. They’d think it was a tattoo.”

“A closer look would be enough to tell them that they’re wrong.” The mark would be nothing more than a small, innocuous-looking symbol in the center of her palm, but it would also glisten and smell of him—something no tattoo would do. Better still, it would glow whenever she was in danger and psychically alert him that she needed help, no matter how far apart they were. “You don’t need to worry that being marked would hurt. It might sting a little, but that’s all.”

“My demon would view any pain from you as an attack. It’d rise and retaliate.”

“No, it wouldn’t. It can sense that I won’t hurt you.” Tanner breezed his thumb over her palm again. “Tell me the truth, kitten, why does the idea of being marked by me bother you so much?”

“Who wouldn’t it bother? Hellhounds are insanely proprietary over whatever they mark, which is why Knox didn’t want you to leave one on Harper—she told me.”

He gave a slow nod. “And you don’t like possessiveness. But it’s more than that, isn’t it? You feel that accepting my protection will be like surrendering to me in some sense. It won’t, kitten. It won’t be a show of weakness.” He gave her hand a little squeeze. “Come on, put your money where your mouth is; let me try to mark you.”

She heaved a sigh of sheer exasperation. “Why bother? You know it won’t work.”

“If you’re so convinced of that, let me try.”

“Will you leave if I do?”

“Sure.”

Sighing again, she shrugged and put down her mug. “Knock yourself out, I guess.” Devon almost snickered at the triumphant look on his face. God, he truly was delusional if he thought this would work. He linked his fingers with hers and dug his thumb into the center of her palm. Nothing happened, just as she’d known it wouldn’t.

Devon smirked. “See? You should have listened to—” Power, hot and raw, zapped her skin and scorched it like a branding iron. Sting, my ass. It goddamn burned. She tried snatching her hand from his, but he held tight. That was when her inner demon charged to the surface.

Tanner tensed when Devon’s eyes bled to black and the room temperature lowered. Her demon didn’t attack, didn’t struggle, but it held razor-sharp claws to his throat in warning. He didn’t flinch, didn’t pull back. “She’s safe with me,” he told it, knowing it would fully understand every word. “I’d never hurt her. You can sense that, or you would have slit my throat instantly.”

It narrowed its eyes and pressed its claws closer to his flesh—it wanted him to let Devon go, and this was apparently his final warning.

“People could come for her,” he said. “We both want her safe, so let’s call a truce and work together to make that happen.”

An image flashed in his mind—an image of Devon kicking the ass of a faceless foe, her eyes totally black. Tanner nodded at the wordless telepathic message. “Yes, I know she has you. I know you can protect her. But being powerful isn’t always enough. I just want her to have my help in case she does need it.”

The demon didn’t react, didn’t pull back its claws. Just stared at him.

Tanner felt his jaw tighten. “You might not like or trust my kind, but you do trust that I’d never harm her.” Still no reaction. And he sensed that only the truth would get him what he wanted. “She’s important to me. Let me help you keep her safe.”

Long moments of silence ticked by, winding him tight. Then the feline lost some of its tension and slowly retracted its claws. It gave a slow nod, and another image flashed in his mind—one of him and the hellcat standing side by side while Devon stood behind them. Understanding the feline was agreeing that they could work together to protect her, he inclined his head.

The demon then subsided, and piercing green eyes met his. Devon, seeming somewhat stunned, looked down at her palm. There, as if they’d been stamped onto her skin, were three, black, very small tribal-like lines set into a thin circle. The same mark was featured on the gates of hell—the brand of a hellhound.

Satisfaction settled over Tanner. He took an easy breath for what felt like the first time in days. She was marked now. Was officially under his protection. Wore his scent on her skin. He’d feel it if she was ever in danger. All that gratified him on a very primal level. He couldn’t have her for himself, but he could ensure she was safe.

“There, done,” he said. “Does it hurt?”

Shocked to the bone, Devon closed her hand. “It’s fine.” Proud that her voice came out strong and steady, she gave herself a mental pat on the back. “How the … I don’t understand.”

“I told you, my hound considers you under its protection.”

Devon would never have believed that. Never. But the proof was right there on her palm.

Totally thrown, she raked her hand through her hair. Surely her feline should be raging that a hellhound had marked Devon. Surely it should be hissing, snarling, and raring to strike out at him. It wasn’t. It also wasn’t convinced that his help was needed or that he wouldn’t withdraw his protection at some point, but it saw him as a valuable ally. It intended to use him for as long as he was available. Cold, sure, but that was how the entity operated.

Devon suspected her demon would work with anyone if it would keep her safe. Why? Because it had never forgotten how utterly helpless it had felt while unable to free six-year-old Devon from the magickly warded car. Had never forgotten how close she’d come to dying right along with the infant in the car seat.

It wasn’t that the entity was haunted by regret or guilt—it couldn’t feel such emotions. But it resented that it had been unable to protect Devon. Was embittered by the powerlessness and sense of failure it had felt. The demon didn’t intend to experience such things ever again. And if working alongside a hellhound would help ensure that, the feline would do it.

Devon, however, wasn’t so at ease with the idea. She wrenched her hand free, cursing beneath her breath. If she’d thought for one second that he’d be able to mark her, she’d never have agreed to let him try. She didn’t want to wear his goddamn brand. But there’d be no washing it off, no tattooing over it, no ridding his scent from that spot on her skin. It wouldn’t fade until either he or his demon withdrew their protection. And now she was livid. Livid with herself, with him, with his motherfucking hound.

“I don’t need or want your protection,” she ground out.

“Too fucking bad—you have it.” There was no heat in his voice, just a firm resolve. “I told you before, it’s not weak to accept someone’s protection, kitten. Hell, I’ve never met a more powerful demon than Knox in all my existence, and he has a damn bodyguard, because it’s just plain smart.”

She couldn’t deny that, which was seriously fucking annoying. “It makes no sense to me that your demon would offer a hellcat its protection. I mean, I can see it not wanting me to be harmed purely because I’m a close friend of your Prime—if someone hurt me, it would hurt Harper, and your hound wouldn’t want that for her. Is that what this is?”

He shook his head. “This isn’t about Harper. It’s about you.”

She snickered. “You truly trust that your hound would protect me if need be? Because I sure don’t.”

His eyes bled to black, and a disgruntled growl vibrated in the demon’s chest. The room temperature instantly plummeted, and goosebumps swept across her skin. Shit.

Obsidian eyes stared down at her—cold, hard, and so empty of emotion they were like black voids of nothingness. Really, it was like being caught in the gaze of a cobra, and it sent a tingle of fear skittering down her spine. Apparently, the entity didn’t like that she’d questioned its integrity.

Her inner feline surged close to the surface, watching it closely, prepared to defend her if necessary. But Devon didn’t give an inch to the feline; she intended to remain in control and show the hound that she didn’t need her own demon’s protection. Intended to make it understand that she could face it herself just fine. So, even though she felt chilled all the way to her soul by that unwavering, reptilian glare, she didn’t once look away.

It tilted its head slightly. Assessing her, she thought. It seemed confused, and she wondered if it had expected her to cower and behave like prey purely because it considered all hellcats to be exactly that.

Just to drive home that she was nobody’s prey, Devon raised a sardonic brow. “You done staring at me, Fido?”

Another growl vibrated in its chest. Something flashed in those dark eyes. Something that might have been approval, but it was gone too quick for her to be sure. Then the demon did a slow blink, and she was once more looking into a pair of golden eyes.

“You’re a ballsy little thing, aren’t you?” Tanner took her hand and stroked her palm with his thumb, his face lazy with satisfaction as he stared at the mark. She didn’t like that satisfaction at all.

Devon jutted out her chin. “Just to be clear, this mark is only that—a mark. It’s for show. A deterrent to the people who might mean me harm. I don’t care how territorial it incidentally makes you feel, it gives you no rights to me. None. Is that understood, pooch?” She expected a growl, a frown, some sign of annoyance. Instead, his mouth ever so slowly curved.

“Ah, kitten,” he said, his voice soft. “You’re oblivious to your … value to me, aren’t you? ‘Territorial’ is a mild word for what I feel toward you, and it has nothing to do with that mark.” He released her hand and took a slow step back. “Get some rest. You’ve had a rough day. I have the feeling that tomorrow’s not going to be any easier.”

Tanner would have insisted on staying the night to guard her, but his fiercely independent hellcat would never go for that. Her protective wards were strong, and he’d be psychically alerted if she was in any danger—that would have to be enough. “Stay safe.” With that, he left.

Outside, he headed for his Audi. He clocked the two imps watching the building from the shadows; approved that Jolene had sent people to guard Devon. That didn’t stop him from making a call to a member of his Force and ordering them to stand watch through the night.

In the car, he switched on the ignition and telepathically reached out to Knox. You can assure Harper that Devon’s home, safe and sound. Or as safe as anyone can be in the shabby building where she lives.

Harper tells me she’s been trying to convince Devon to move, but the hellcat likes to be close to her parents,said Knox. The only other nearby empty apartments are in far worse condition than the one she’s living in.

Well, if Devon wanted to live near her family, she wasn’t likely to move to one of Knox’s buildings. Tanner would still take a shot at convincing her to relocate, though. Just so you know, I’ve stationed Enzo outside her complex. I trust the imps to be vigilant, but I want someone watching her who’ll report back to me.

Our Force is big enough for us to spare him. I’ll clear it with Jolene.

I also want him and Lex to guard the tattoo studio tomorrow.

I understand your need to be sure she’s safe, Tanner, and I’m not opposed to making it clear to the demon population that I’ll take an attack on Harper’s friends seriously. But be careful—your hound could get annoyed by the attention you’re paying to the hellcat.

No, it won’t, because it wants her protected.Tanner decided to hold off on informing Knox that he’d marked her. Knox would tell Harper, who’d immediately call Devon and ask her about it; then Devon wouldn’t get the rest she needed.

If you say so. Knox didn’t sound whatsoever convinced. We’ll talk more tomorrow.

Sure thing.