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Seated opposite the sphinx with Larkin beside him, Tanner said, “Those puddles burn like a son of a …” He trailed off as his eyes flicked to Asher, who was playing with his fake cell phone. “Gun,” he finished lamely.
Keenan nuzzled Khloé’s neck. “You going to give me a bite of that hotdog?”
Her nose wrinkled. “Nah.”
“But I’m hungry. And I shared my chips with you.”
“I don’t see your point. Hey!” she whined when he leaned over and bit a chunk out of the hotdog.
He quickly chewed it and said, “I’ll make it up to you later.”
Devon gently nudged her. “Is Ciaran not coming?”
Khloé sighed. “I don’t think so. I invited him, but … he’s been avoiding me.”
“It’s guilt, sweetie,” said Raini, leaning against the window. “He hates that he’s healed and you’re not. Also, he seems to be throwing all his energy and time into finding someone who can heal you.”
Khloé was well aware of that, and she couldn’t say she’d have acted any different in his position, but … “It would have been good for him to take a break and just chill for half an hour.”
Devon touched the glass. “Ooh, we have movement down there.”
Khloé watched as, sure-footed and impressively built, twenty hellhorses padded onto the oval track, their heads high and proud. Spectators cheered and whistled.
The steeds lined up, side by side, near the start line. Some looked hyper and edgy, swishing their tails and trotting on the spot. Others were calm and still, like they were about to go for a leisurely walk through the woods or something. They had no jockeys, so there were no reins or saddles.
“Horsies!” shouted Asher, leaning forward to get a better look at them.
“Sort of,” said Harper. “They’re hellhorses.”
The kid pointed at his chest. “For me.”
“No, little man, they’re not for you.” Harper rolled her eyes. “I’m thankful he can’t pyroport very far right now, or he’d probably plop himself on top of one of the hellhorses.”
“That would be a bad idea, dude,” Devon told him. “No one rides a hellhorse unless they’re crazy.”
Khloé frowned. “I’ve ridden Teague’s steed a few times.”
“I rest my case,” said the hellcat.
Snorting, Khloé turned back to the view of the track.
“Hellhorses might be insane, but there’s no denying that they’re beautiful,” said Larkin.
Beautiful was an understatement, in Khloé’s opinion. They were regal and elegant with their arched neck, long legs, inward-turned ear tips, and their long, high-carried tail. Their metallic coat and lush mane were as dark as their all-black, wide-set eyes. In a word, they were breathtaking.
Teague’s stallion was easily identifiable due to the large scar that slashed across its neck, but Khloé would have recognized it anyway. It had a little extra, indefinable something that made it so much more magnificent and majestic than the others. It was also packed with more muscle and had an intimidatingly confident air.
It was favorite to win, like always. Every person in the VIP box—other than Asher, of course—had placed a bet on it.
Raini grinned. “I love how Teague’s hellhorse just stands there very still while the others try to irritate it by snapping their teeth or puffing smoke out of their nostrils. It doesn’t even look their way, as if it believes it’s above all that.”
“I honestly don’t know why anyone would even bother to race against it,” said Devon. “That stallion never loses.”
“That’s exactly why people want to race against it,” said Keenan. “They know that if they do miraculously win, they’ll make an instant name for themselves.”
The hellcat lifted her brows. “Never thought of it like that.”
“See the female hellhorse on the far right?” asked Khloé. “She’s the smallest of all the competitors.”
“I see her,” said Keenan. “I’ve seen her race before. She’s fast, especially for her size.”
“She is,” Khloé confirmed. “She’s been hounding Teague to father her child, ignoring his refusals. I know that hellbeasts often choose fathers for their kids who are fit and strong and powerful. But of all the reasons to ask someone to father your child, she actually asked Teague so that their offspring might be a hellhorse racing champion.”
“Sounds like she’s hoping to achieve something through her child that she can’t achieve herself,” said Larkin. “Some parents are like that. Ooh, looks like the race is about to start.”
Done with her hotdog, Khloé placed her napkin in the trash and then opened the sliding glass door. As she stepped out onto the private balcony, the scents of dirt, horses, and concession food drifted to her. Keenan and the others joined her on the balcony, their gazes locked on the hellhorses.
A hush had fallen upon the stadium, and the steeds had all stilled. The air was taut with intensity, excitement, and anticipation. It was enough to make Khloé’s stomach flutter again.
A horn beeped, signaling the start of the race. The hell-horses burst into action and flew across the track. Their hooves thundered along the ground, kicking up so much dirt that dust clouded the air.
