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Larkin’s response had been to twist his balls, but the weirdo had laughed even as he groaned in pain. She’d eventually relented, as he’d been right in something he said—people would see the brand sooner or later, so canceling their plans wouldn’t achieve anything. Not a procrastinator by nature, she’d chosen not to delay exposing the brand to one and all.

However, as they’d walked around the Underground for the past few hours—browsing the market stalls, eating lunch at the man-made park, betting on hellhound races—she’d found herself wishing she’d stayed at his wagon. She’d been on the receiving end of so much staring that her skin actually crawled and itched with discomfort.

Something like that would normally irritate her demon, but the entity was smug that his beast was feeling so possessive.

It wasn’t often that an entity would brand a person’s face. Only extremely territorial demons tended to do so, and they generally only did it when intent on making a very clear ‘mine’ statement that no one would fail to notice. So yes, his beast branding her was indeed a good sign. After all, Larkin couldn’t keep Teague unless she also managed to win over his demon. That appeared to be working. But she’d still much rather it had branded her neck or something.

Then again, the mark would have gained people’s attention in any case. Because Larkin had never been so visibly branded before, and Teague wasn’t known for being at all possessive. Which was why the chatter had stopped when she’d first walked into the ice-cream parlor. The guy chopping strawberries behind the counter had almost dropped the knife in surprise. One of the women who’d been scanning the various tubs of ice-cream behind the glass-covered case had spat out a “Holy hell” that had made Larkin’s demon smirk.

Well, at least someone was finding it funny.

Larkin had arched a haughty brow, and people had looked away fast. They’d also started muttering about the mark. Still were. She could hear them even over the music playing low, the hum of the air conditioning, and the whir of the blender.

Larkin didn’t like being the focus of so much attention. She preferred to fade into the background; to be the one doing the watching. And she especially didn’t like being the subject of gossip, but it was plain unavoidable now.

She’d bet that by the time she arrived at Devon’s apartment for the upcoming movie evening in a few hours’ time, the girls would already have heard about the brand. No doubt they’d have plenty to say about it, too.

“Personally,” began Teague, spooning more ice-cream, “I would have thought you’d just be thankful that, out of the two brands, it’s the horse’s head that’s on your face. It could have as easily been the barcode. Which I actually would have preferred.”

“Because I’d have looked ridiculous?”

“Because you’d have looked well and truly owned,” he replied, his eyes heating.

Ignoring the little flutter in her stomach, she licked at her ice-cream again, scooping up the last few chocolate chips. “I’m totally gonna encourage my demon to put ‘Village Idiot’ on your cheek, by the way.”

“Your entity wouldn’t do that.” He flashed her a cocky grin. “It likes me.”

“I don’t know why that makes you feel smug.” Most people didn’t even want to be on her demon’s radar. It was understandable, really.

“How can I not be smug about it? Your entity doesn’t like many people. Same as you.” He pointed his spoon at her, adding, “But you like me. You’re falling for me fast, just like I said you would.”

Oh, he had no idea just how true that was. But she didn’t let that show on her face. “If I told you that you were right, you’d shit your pants and run.”

He frowned. “What?”

“You’re well-known for reacting badly to women claiming they care for you.” She gave him a smile of mock sympathy. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s not your fault that feelings scare you.”

“Okay, first of all, I don’t run from women who say they care for me. I just speed-walk.” His tongue flicked out and collected the stray nut that had stuck to the corner of his mouth. “Second of all, it’s not because feelings scare me, it’s because these people are talking a load of tripe.”

“Why would you think they don’t mean what they say?”

“How can they mean it? None of them know me. They only see the surface.”

Larkin let out a thoughtful hum. “Maybe that’s your fault, seeing as you make a point of not letting people close.”

“Whatever. The point is their ‘feelings’ for me aren’t real.”

“So what you’re saying is that if a woman’s feelings for you are ever real, you will stick around and try to build something with her?”

He opened his mouth, squinting. “Not quite.”

“Then we’re back to you being a scaredy cat. So maybe stop saying I’m falling for you. You don’t want to tempt fate, now, do you?”

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