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Sprawled in his porch chair with a bottle of brandy in hand, Gideon sang along to the music while waving a lighter in the air. Archer was doing the same from his own porch, a bag of mushrooms on his lap.
The dogs rushed to Teague as soon as he was off his bike. Larkin parked in her usual spot near where Saxon’s truck tended to be parked. It was currently nowhere to be seen, so it seemed he was out and about—and likely going after yet another mark for a fee, but she wasn’t judging.
None of the clan had mentioned the Ronin thing since the evening of the battle, totally over it . . . right up until their old commander paid them another visit a week ago. He’d informed them of Ronin’s disappearance and—apparently at the request of Soren, who believed his son had no enemies other than Teague—questioned her mate about it.
Of course, her hellhorse had played clueless. Vine had bought his act, since he himself didn’t suspect Teague of any involvement. Mostly because it hadn’t only been Ronin who’d gone missing; it was his entire unit. Vine couldn’t see why Teague would wipe them all out—he seemingly had no motivation to do so.
As she exited her vehicle, Gideon raised his bottle to her while Archer gave her a lazy salute. Leo tipped his chin her way and went back to glaring at the raven. Slade probably would have said his hellos if Dutch hadn’t chosen that moment to try to snatch the bloodstained rag from his hand.
Once she’d grabbed something from her trunk, Larkin crossed to Teague, who was stuffing his riding gear in his saddlebag. After exchanging a few words with his clan, he clambered up the steps to his wagon and unlocked the door. He gestured for her to precede him inside and then closed the door behind them.
Teague frowned. “What’s that?” he asked, flicking a look at what she was carrying.
“My overnight bag,” Larkin replied before walking to his bedroom.
Following her, he scratched at the branded side of his neck. “Looks like a suitcase to me.”
Larkin dropped the luggage on the floor near the dresser and then kicked off her shoes. “Some might call it that.” Because that was exactly what it was.
He hummed. “What have you brought that couldn’t fit into a duffel?”
Most of her wardrobe. “Right, look, here’s how it is. I don’t intend to live in a separate place from my mate. Which is what you are. My mate. And not a fake one. Our relationship—yes, we have a relationship; we’ve been in one for months now—is nothing close to shallow. It’s serious, and it’s permanent. Deal with it.”
He didn’t react. Didn’t tense. Didn’t speak. Didn’t blink. Nothing.
Her demon stirred, watching him very closely, trying and failing to read his expression. Likewise, Larkin couldn’t determine what was going on in his head. But knowing Teague, it was nothing predictable.
“We’re in a relationship?” he asked, no inflection in his tone.
She lifted her chin. “Yes.”
“A real one?”
“Yes. Oh, and everyone knows.” She figured it would be best to throw that out there.
“Everyone?”
She felt her nose wrinkle. “Well, I’m not sure about your clan, but the others in our circle know. I thought you’d cotton on to it eventually, but you just didn’t.”
“So this is why Khloë keeps laughing at me?”
“Probably. You never can tell with Khloë.”
Seconds of excruciating silence ticked by. “How long, exactly, have we been in a relationship?”
“Officially? Since the night before we first babysat Asher together.”
His brows flicked up. “That long?”
“Yes. It became real before then somehow; I just didn’t really realize it until that night. I said nothing, because you would have run like a rabbit. I instead made the official decision that we’d be a true couple from then on, and I worked hard to sneak past your defenses so I’d be more easily able to make you accept it.”
“Wait, that’s what you were plotting when you were watching me all weird back then?”
“Uh-huh. At this point, I feel like it worked. If it hasn’t . . . ” Her demon would go apeshit, and Larkin would have to kick his ass.
He twisted his mouth, staring down at her, his expression still inscrutable.
Her nerves starting to play up, she arched a brow. “Well?”
“Well, what?”
“How do you feel about the situation?” She paused. “I should warn you that my demon has—despite its issues—formed a huge attachment to you. It plans to eat your spleen if you try wriggling out of the relationship.”
“Why my spleen?”
“I don’t know, don’t care. Now answer my question.”
His jaw beginning to tighten, he lifted his shoulders. “Honestly? I’m annoyed.”
Her stomach clenching, Larkin felt her eyes narrow. “Expand.”
“For weeks on end I’ve been wondering how best to bring up that me and my demon have decided to keep you. I wasn’t sure if you’d put up a protest, and I kept obsessing over it. And now it turns out that I had no need to chew on it. So yeah. I’m annoyed.”
