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No. It was branding him.
Entities could rise and brand a lover if they felt possessive. But he had the distinct feeling that he was being marked for a whole other reason. A ruthless reason he very much approved of.
The demon ended the kiss and then admired its brand with a pleased hum. “As I said, you will help me make him jealous.”
Oh, Holt would seethe at the sight of the mark if he did in fact have none-too-platonic feelings for Larkin. “She’s gonna be furious about this. You know that, right?”
“She will pretend to be furious. Secretly, she will like the look of it on your skin.” The entity fingered his collar. “Do hurry and seduce her. I would like you and your demon to fuck me.”
A grin shaped his mouth. “I just love how direct you are.”
It nipped his lower lip. “We shall speak again soon.” Its eyes fell closed, and the warm female body on his lap melted against him as the entity clearly withdrew.
Larkin began to stir within seconds, making sleepy little moans that tugged at his gut. Finally, she sat upright, her eyelids flickering. As her situation hit her, the harpy’s brows snapped together, and she went absolutely rigid. “Why am I sitting on you?”
He cupped her hips, his hold undeniably possessive. “I didn’t put you here, if that’s what you’re thinking. Though I like having you where you are, so feel free to stay. I was about to head home, but then your demon wanted to have a little chat with me.”
“A chat?” she echoed, clearly confused.
“Yeah. While straddling me.”
She squinted. “What exactly did it want to speak to you about?”
“A few things. There was some talk about its likes—the smell of fear, torturing people, seeing terror dance in a person’s eyes. Stuff like that. Oh, and there was the kiss.”
Her eyes widened. “Kiss? Why did—oh my God, what in the fuck?”
He smiled as she gawked at the side of his neck. “So. Yeah. It branded me.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Larkin jumped off his lap like he’d burned her. She shuffled backwards, vigorously shaking her head. Her demon had not branded him. It hadn’t. She was dreaming. Or hallucinating. Maybe she’d been slipped a drug at the bar.
Her entity snorted, practically sitting back and buffing its nails, all smug and shit. It telepathed her images of how it had kissed him—which did not ridiculously cause jealousy to knife through Larkin—and marked him while he remained still, reacting only with a hiss of pain.
Larkin swiped a hand down her face. God, the entity really had marked him. Like a complete idiot. And now Larkin would have to deal with the consequences, would have to . . . She frowned at Teague. “What are you doing?”
Adjusting the angle of the swivel mirror on her vanity desk, he said, “I want to see what the mark looks like.”
She could tell him what it looked like. Bold, in a word. A beautifully detailed harpy wing spanned the side of his neck. Pure black, it shimmered slightly, as if wet. It looked edgy and cool and not one little bit subtle.
As he checked it out, his mouth curved in appreciation. “I like it. Your demon is creative.”
Larkin could only stare at him. He should be mad. Why wasn’t he mad?
No one would ever be blasé about being branded by an entity that had zero right to put a mark on them. But here he was, smiling and even complimenting her demon. Complimenting it.
People who’d come face-to-face with her demon didn’t pay it compliments, they made their excuses to leave. Even her brothers were wary of her entity. She understood why, couldn’t blame them for it. But, well, it still stung sometimes.
Teague, though? He wasn’t the slightest bit unnerved, despite the fact her demon had apparently easily shared with him all its sadistic likes and dislikes. No, he’d had no issue with it chatting to him, straddling him, kissing him . . . or branding him.
Seriously, what the hell?
He mentally approached things from abnormal angles a lot of the time, sure, but even he should be somewhat peeved about the brand.
She was peeved about it.
She thrust her hand into her hair—and when had her braid fallen out, please?—seriously annoyed at herself. Why? Because even though she didn’t want to like the sight of him marked, she did. That thought made her entity smirk.
Christ, what had it been thinking? It had done weirder things when bored, but still. “I would seriously slap my demon if I could.”
He turned to look at her. “Why? Your demon is fucking awesome.”
It grinned in delight. But Larkin again found herself staring at him in complete wonder. “What?”
A slow smile curved his lips. “I fell for it the moment it asked how strong my pain threshold is. It really would torture me for the entertainment value, wouldn’t it?”
