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Teague chuckled, unfolding his arms.
Heidi lifted her hand . . . and then smiled. “Oh, would ya look at this.” She was holding one end of a bracelet, letting the piece of jewelry swing gently in the air. Larkin’s bracelet.
Her lips parting, Larkin stared at it. “You made me focus on the necklace so I wouldn’t sense you were stealing my bracelet.”
“Uh-huh.” Heidi returned it to her, and then held up her other hand. “And this, too.”
Larkin took the ring, gaping. “How the hell did you get that off my finger without me feeling it?”
Grinning, the kid swung her arms forwards and backwards. “Pure skill.”
Amusement trickling through him, Teague flashed Heidi a smile. “I bow down to your brilliance.” Leo would be proud.
“Brilliance,” muttered Larkin. “Yeah, that’s one word for it.”
Probably not a word many would use in this instance. Other breeds of demon tended to sit in judgement over imps. Teague personally thought it unfair.
Imps might be as crazy as they were unethical and have no issue committing all manner of crimes from embezzling to identity theft, but they never pretended to be anything else. You knew where you stood with them. You didn’t have to worry that they’d stab you in the back or screw you over—unless, of course, you wronged them.
In that sense, they were honestly dishonest. It was why Teague and his clan got along with them so well. They were on the same wavelength in this respect.
“Now, how about we go see if dinner’s ready?” Larkin proposed.
“I’m up for that.” Heidi wrinkled her little nose. “I should probably give you this back first.” She held out a small, compact mirror.
Her lips once more parting, Larkin took it. “Okay, I don’t know what disturbs me more: that you stole three things pretty much at once without me knowing it; or that it’s like you afterwards produced your ill-gotten goods out of thin air. Seriously, where do you put this stuff when you swipe it?”
Heidi tapped the side of her nose. “An imp never tells.” With that, she skipped away.
Dropping her mirror back in her purse, Larkin looked at him. “Who is this Leo person that taught her that trick?”
Claiming her hand again, Teague slid her a sideways smile as they slowly walked along the hardwood floor of the hallway, following the sounds of laughter and chatter. “Like you don’t already know he’s one of my clan.” She would have discovered that much when she did her homework on Teague.
“Okay, fine, I know their first names and some other basic details. But that was all I could dig up. You guys erased your trails so successfully that even I can’t unearth anything about your pasts.”
Pausing a few feet away from the noisy kitchen, Teague used his grip on her hand to pull her closer, liking how her pupils dilated. “What can I say? We prefer to be men of mystery.”
“Bullshit,” she said, her voice low. “You”—she gently poked his chest—“are just a cagey motherfucker, plain and simple. People don’t notice, because you’re so damn chatty and social. They don’t seem to pick up that you don’t talk about the things that matter, or that you very expertly redirect a conversation if it’s going down a path you don’t like.”
Teague couldn’t quite fight the smile that tugged at his lips. “Full of astute observations, aren’t you, harpy? And it makes me wonder . . . ”
Her brow dented. “What?”
He dipped his head, leaving inches between their mouths. “If you’ve sensed just what filthy things I’ve imagined doing to you.”
She swallowed, heat flickering in her eyes. Then she gave her head a quick shake and poked his chest once more. “Now, see, you’re doing it again. Tossing something into the conversation that will distract and divert.”
He shrugged. “It has a high success rate.”
Just then, Keenan popped his head out of the kitchen, his eyes narrowed. “What are you two whispering about?”
“Whips and floggers,” Teague said, straight-faced.
The incubus opened and closed his mouth a few times. With a sigh, he flapped an arm. “I have nothing.” He retreated into the kitchen.
Teague led Larkin into the space. By the looks of things, dinner wasn’t quite ready. Jolene was still pottering around, much like her two usual helpers. One was her anchor, Beck. The other was her only daughter, Martina.
“Evening all,” Teague greeted, earning himself a nod from Beck and a wave from Martina.
Jolene smiled as she said, “Larkin, Teague. Always a pleasure.” She gave off her usual veneer of elegance with her smart blouse, pencil skirt, and sophisticated hairdo. Beneath that surface lay a shrewd, daring, manipulative woman who would protect and avenge her loved ones at any cost—even if said costs involved leaving behind scenes of utter carnage.
Teague liked the female Prime a lot.
Still smiling, she looked from him to Larkin, noting their joined hands. “I did hear about this new development. I approve.”
