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Keenan slowed the car as he reached a red light. She said she believes our lair is the best choice because Gavril wouldn’t dare fuck with you.
There are other Primes he wouldn’t think to challenge, particularly Raul. On another note, how far are you from the airport?
Not far. Which is good, because Khloé is currently acting deranged, convinced there’s a bee in the car and that it’s going to sting her.
A vibe of amusement brushed the edges of Keenan’s mind. Well, bees do sting.
Keenan’s mouth tightened. There’s no bee, just like there’s no Aunt Mildred.
Who?
Nothing; forget it. Seeing that the light had turned green, he drove onward. We’ll be at the airport soon.
“Lower the windows so it can fly out!” Khloé urged, cowering against Raini.
God, the woman drove him insane. Humoring her just so the craziness would stop, Keenan lowered the electronic windows. “There,” he snapped. “Happy now?”
She breathed a sigh of relief and straightened. “Yes. It’s gone. Phew. That was a close call. I don’t know why bees hate me so much.”
He frowned, closing the windows. “Bees do not hate you.”
“Really? Then why do they always come at me like I fucked their mother or something?” she challenged.
The woman was honestly sent to test him. “What is wrong with you?”
“I’m sexually repressed,” she replied, deadpan.
He flexed his hands around the steering wheel. “Do you ever wonder how different things would be if you weren’t fucking demented?”
“Ooh, who shit on your Pop Tarts, Mr. ‘I’m an alcoholic in denial’?”
He ground his teeth, not sure what would bring him more pleasure—gripping her by the throat or fucking her within an inch of her life. “Personally, I think you should be heavily medicated for the safety of you and everyone around you,” he sniped.
She slapped a hand to her chest, as if hurt. “Scarred for life over here.”
“Just … be quiet. All right?”
“All right.” The “quiet” lasted all of six seconds. “Keenan, pull my finger.”
“No.”
It wasn’t until much later that he realized she’d taken his mind completely off Thea and his childhood so effortlessly.
*
The ride on the swanky private jet had been fun enough for Khloé. But being on the sleek, white, four-decked mega-yacht had her doing happy dances in her head. Its level of luxuriousness blew her mind.
Everything seemed to glimmer and shine. The spacious interior was as bright and stylish as the yacht itself. It had everything from a gym to a home theater. Sunlight shone through the large windows, brightening the rooms and casting faint shadows here and there.
After giving them a quick tour and introducing them to the uniformed crew, Harper had shown Khloé and Raini to the guest cabins on the lower deck. Khloé couldn’t help but note that hers wasn’t too far from Keenan’s room. Devon, of course, was sleeping in Tanner’s cabin, which was on the same floor. Harper, Knox, and Asher, however, slept on the upper deck in their “stately room,” which was one heck of a bedroom suite.
Once they’d all changed into swimwear, they’d headed to the awesome sun deck. Sun sparkled off the water and the gleaming white fiberglass. Below the music that was playing were the sounds of the engine rumbling, seabirds cawing, and waves crashing against the hull. The potent smell of the ocean air almost drowned out those of beer, wood polish, and sunscreen.
For a while, all four girls had spent time in the pool with Asher—playing, laughing, swimming, and pushing him around in his inflatable car.
Later, Devon joined Tanner in the jacuzzi while Khloé, Harper, and Raini got some drinks from the wet bar and then claimed three rattan sun loungers. Keenan and Knox were now in the pool with Asher, who kicked up a fuss whenever anyone tried to get him out of the water.
The three guys were dressed in only swim shorts, so it was impossible not to objectify them for just a moment with their rock-hard abs and perfect physiques. Khloé was still a little tingly from watching Keenan emerge from the jacuzzi earlier, water pouring down his body. No one should be so damn enticing. It simply wasn’t fair.
More annoying, he did not look like someone who was battling the pull of an addiction. And she had to accept that he might just have been telling the truth—there was a high chance that the incubus wasn’t an alcoholic.
She was hyperconscious that if she didn’t make him cave and just have one drink, he’d be feeding from her very freaking soon. Her demon wasn’t so uncomfortable with the idea. Surprise, fucking surprise.
Sitting on the lounger, she decided she’d wait for the sun to dry her off before she applied more sunscreen. It was hot as holy hell. It wasn’t so hot that she wanted to retreat into the sun-shaded salon just off the main deck, though … despite that the sofas looked seriously comfy. Maybe later.
