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Maybe it would be better to pull out of their deal. He’d done more daring things than sing naked at a bar. He could claim that he couldn’t handle the celibacy—she’d find that easy to believe; wouldn’t become suspicious and start poking her nose into his business.
Besides, she had enough going on in her own life right now. That thought made him mentally falter. Her psi-mate, who she clearly had no time or liking for, was back on the scene. More, if Holt was as stubborn a person as she claimed, he might well be a problem. Might refuse to accept her wishes. For all she’d tried to assure Teague that it was no real biggie, it was clear that she was braced for trouble.
What concerned him was that it wasn’t unheard of for demons to kill a psi-mate who refused to form the bond. It was rare. But it did happen.
Maybe the guy meant Larkin no harm. But maybe he did. Or maybe he’d one day snap and attempt to harm her if she continued to reject him.
The thought made Teague’s lungs contract.
She’d never accept protection from him or anyone else—she was a sentinel, and she’d consider herself to be her own bodyguard. As such, Teague could only really look out for her if he kept up their charade, because she wouldn’t otherwise spend any time with him.
He’d continue with their act for now, he decided. To pull out of it on the mere basis that his half-brother might forget to warn a shadowkin to only attack Teague when he was alone seemed like an overreaction anyway.
“Do you really think Ronin will come here?” Archer asked, snapping Teague out of his thoughts.
Taking another swig of his beer, Teague stroked the hound who came to his side. Barron leaned into the move, his eyes going hooded. Glad to see that the dogs were finally settling and taking positions around the firepit, he replied, “Yes. Ronin won’t back down. If the shadowkin continue to fail—and we’ll make sure they do—he’ll come at me himself eventually to personally see to it that I’m good and dead.”
“He won’t come alone,” Saxon stated. “He won’t be satisfied with only ending you. He’ll come prepared to take us all out.”
“Yup,” agreed Teague with an annoyed sigh. “There’s no way he’d kill me but allow you all to live. He’d know that you’d avenge my death or, at the very least, alert his superiors to what he’s done. He won’t risk that.”
“How many demons do you think he’ll bring with him?” asked Tucker, using a pocket knife to carve sticks he’d no doubt use for roasting hot dogs at some point.
Teague licked the front of his teeth. “Enough that we’ll be outnumbered so he can feel sure he walks away the victor.”
“No amount of backup will gain him victory,” said Slade, his face hardening. “If he comes for us, he’ll die.”
“Oh yeah,” agreed Teague. “He’ll die. And so will whoever he brings with him.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Khloë thumped her shot glass down on the scarred wooden table. “It’s a relevant question.”
“How is it relevant?” Harper challenged. “Seriously?”
The imp elbowed her cousin. “It is to me, okay. I just want to know how Noah could possibly have fit two of, like, seven million species on an ark. I mean, how big was this goddamn ark? And where can I get one?”
“What would you do with it?” asked Piper, swaying to the loud music playing over the bar’s speakers.
Khloë looked away, pensive. “I gotta admit, I don’t know.”
Larkin tossed back some of her fruity drink, enjoying the burst of sweetness against her tongue. “I don’t think Keenan would be down with you keeping a huge-ass ark in your yard. Just a thought.” She set her glass down on a square cardboard coaster, telling herself that she had not just drunkenly weaved.
Beside her, Raini frowned, her amber eyes a little glassy, and pulled the plastic stirrer out of her mouth. “You still haven’t finished your drink.”
Larkin felt her nose wrinkle. “I don’t think it would be a good idea for me to get blitzed.”
“Well, let me tell you, that ship has sailed,” Khloë told her with a swipe of her hand. “You left sober at the door hours ago.”
Larkin grimaced. “I was afraid of that.” Dammit. “How did it even happen? I didn’t drink as much as you guys.”
“But you were ordering pretty strong drinks,” Harper reminded her. “And you were mixing them.”
“Why is it a big deal, Lark?” asked Devon, sitting on her other side. “Your shift is over. A girls’ night is so much more fun when we’re plastered. And some bodyguards are hanging around, so you don’t have to worry that you’ll need to leap into action if shit goes down.”
Larkin only let out a low hum. When the girls had invited her to the Xpress bar, she’d agreed to go, needing the distraction. Her demon had encouraged her to ‘let go’, have fun, drink to excess, and forget about Holt for a while. Larkin and the other women had had fun talking, laughing, drinking, dancing, and snapping pictures with their phones.
