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Larkin looked away, inadvertently locking eyes with another starer. She shot him a dark look. He shrunk in his seat, holding his waffle cone in front of his face as if it would protect him, and then glanced up at the wall and pretended to admire the ice-cream parlor’s cheery, colorful fifties décor.
She returned her gaze to Teague. “The staring is getting old fast.”
“Enough with the scowling at me, I won’t be held responsible for what my demon does.”
“I’m not glaring at you because I hold you responsible. I’m glaring at you because I’m annoyed that you find this amusing.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Then why are you laughing?”
“I’m a nervous-laugher, and you’re making me nervous with the way you’re trying to kill me with your eyes.” Teague felt his mouth curve as she made one of those low, raspy growls in the back of her throat. “Best sound ever, I swear.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Fuck off, Shadowfax.”
“I hear the adoration in your voice,” he teased.
There was a loud crunch as she bit unnecessarily hard into her cone, her fingers flexing around it.
He stiffened ever so slightly. “You’re imagining throwing that ice-cream at me, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” she all but grunted.
He couldn’t say he blamed her.
He resisted teasing her again while they ate. But there was no way to fully stifle a grin each time she glared at him. Luckily, they managed to finish their desserts without him getting anything flung in his face.
Cleaning her fingers with a thin napkin, she spared the wall clock a quick glance. “I need to head to Devon and Tanner’s place or I’ll be late for her movie-evening thing. Not that we’ll actually watch a movie. We never do.”
His beast let out an unhappy snort at the idea of them parting ways. It didn’t want her going anywhere unless it was accompanying her. As if its possessiveness increased with each brand that it put on her body. That should concern Teague and make him sternly insist that the beast cease marking her.
Later. He’d do it later. Maybe. Not that his demon was likely to obey him or anything.
One thing mollified the entity—she wouldn’t be staying at Devon and Tanner’s place long, since she was coming to the Underground’s pit later to observe one of Slade’s brawls.
“Why call them movie nights, then?” Teague asked, dabbing his mouth with a napkin.
“We always start out intending to watch one. But we get distracted by all the talking and laughing, especially when the drinks start flowing. And, of course, Khloë will try drawing on people with a sharpie, which usually leads to arguing, since she tends to draw dirty stuff.”
Frowning, he dumped his napkin in his bowl. “Dirty stuff? I thought she drew animals. Cute ones. Like Fritz the baby hippo.”
“Fritz is not a hippo. It’s a doodle of a cock complete with hairy balls.”
“No, it isn’t.”
Her brow flicked up. “So you’ve seen one of her Fritz sketches?”
“A few. I know he doesn’t look like average hippos—”
“Because he ain’t one. You know it. I know it. So let’s not do this.” Rising to her feet, she threw her balled-up napkin at him.
He caught it fast, smiling. “Such violence.”
“Such idiocy.”
Chuckling, Teague stood and then guided her out of the parlor with a hand on her lower back. He had to smile at how quickly people looked away if she caught them staring at her. He perversely liked that so many were scared of his woman. Fake-woman. Whatever.
In an effort to distract her from all the looks she was receiving, he engaged her in general conversation as they made their way out of the Underground and through the club that concealed its entrance. Okay, by ‘general conversation’, he meant he pushed her wonderfully sensitive buttons until it got to the point where she tried whacking him over the head. Expecting it, he dodged her strike, which earned him one of her growls.
Outside, he escorted her to her car.
“I’ll meet you at the pit later,” she told him as she pressed the button on her key fob.
Teague nodded. He wasn’t sure if she knew, but it was no small matter that Slade had invited her to come watch one of his fights. It meant that the hellhorse was beginning to view her as an extended member of their clan. Which was yet another thing that should concern Teague, and he should probably talk with Slade about it.
Later. Teague would do it later. Maybe.
He fisted her tee, hauled her close, and took her mouth, sipping and licking and nipping. Humming, he pulled back. “You taste good. Like caramel and honeycomb and chocolate.” He cast her a wolfish grin. “We really need to put some of that icecream on your—”
“Stop.”
“What? I was going to say shopping list.” He fought a smile as her eyelid twitched. Again. That permanent eye-twitch he was aiming for was totally gonna be a thing soon.
