Page 67 of Pride: Kneel Before None

He was pissed.

Good. So was I.

Rip’s eyes shifted to Eve. Behind the fogginess of his eyeballs, a muted glint of excitement tried to peek through like the sun shifting behind poisonous clouds.

“Evie, you look… well.” Another twitch at the edge of his lips. “My men have been asking about you.”

He was undoubtedly referring to his henchmen, Jinx and Jasper. Twins of torment and intolerably inept excuses for demons.

He closed the distance until he stood within arm’s length of me. During his shuffle across the room, something about his gait was off. The stiffness of his left leg suggested concealment of an injury. I tucked that notable piece of intel away for later.

Keeping both his eyes on Eve, he leaned over. His voice dropped to a low purr, which sounded more like a sputtering engine than something smooth and charming. “A pleasure seeing you again.”

The slimy bastard reached for her hand, but I snapped to intervene before he could make contact. My fingers curled around his forearm, unforgiving and unbreakable in their hold.

“Her pleasure is all mine. Everything about her is mine.” I wouldn’t tolerate any misinterpretation of those facts. If he didn’t get the hint through the violence simmering in my gaze, the strength of my hold on him and the prickling of hellfire accompanied the reminder.

A drawn-out and dramatic sigh escaped him.

“Yes. Yes. She’s yours. I recall that conversation from our last encounter.”

I released him with a shove of his arm.

In his retreat, he clasped his hands together in front of him as he approached the conference table designed to seat thirty. The massive table made of frosted glass swirled with smoke and lines of silver was overkill for a meeting with a demon whose horns were a gross overstatement for whatever shriveled dick he hid below his belt.

At least when I commanded Sevenfold employees from the head of the very same table, I not only had the balls to back it up but no shame in my fortunate endowment.

Rip pulled out a chair, dropping into it as one did after having a hell of a day at the office. Worn loafers found their way onto the edge of the table as he got comfortable. He positioned himself with his hands resting on top of his potbelly while leaning back far enough that the furniture groaned in protest.

“Cut straight to the point, Rip.” My green eyes already could feel the burn behind them.

His sigh, paired with the expression on his face, briefly reflected his disappointment that I was cutting straight past the pleasantries, or lack thereof. “Seeing as though you’ve made some deals worthy of trickster intervention with your finances, I’ve come bearing a proposal.”

I snorted. “Not interested.”

Both his brows lifted, if you could call them that, given how they seemed to grow vertically.

“You haven’t even heard all I’ve had to offer.”

Stepping forward, I placed my hands on the edge of the table opposite where he sat. I leaned in just enough to make the threat clearer. “Unless it’s your head on a platter made from seraphic-plated silver, I disrespectfully decline.”

There was nothing but venom in my voice. The runes beneath my clothes grew hotter by the second. Each line of heat seeped through the fabric, emitting the scent of hellfire and warm cloth.

None of it fazed Rip. He continued. “Since my last distributor made some fundamental errors in delivering some valuable product, I find myself in a rare pinch.”

“Product,” I repeated. “Would said product come with a fatality rate that would make even a haunting spectre think twice?”

Rip laughed as if anything I said bore humor to it. The hand he had used to try to reach for Eve slapped against his thigh.

“Oh, I knew you had a temper, Reynard. But funny as well? Now I know we’re more alike than I ever realized!” he exclaimed, amusement dripping from his words.

“I sincerely doubt that.” There was no hiding the dryness in my voice. He and I were as alike as a succubus and a priest.

He tutted. “Now, now. Don’t be so quick to judge, Ace. Hear me out.”

My gaze was locked on him like a missile prepared to launch. The edge of the table groaned beneath my tightening grip.

“Since I can’t move product as effectively as I once did, I need a place to store it. Where can I find better security than that of Superbia’s most lucrative casino?”