Omens (The Dark in You Book 6)

by Suzanne Wright

  Bracing her elbows on the bistro table, Khloé slanted her head. “You know, I’m annoyed that that didn’t occur to me before now.”

  “I feel bad for humans. Demons rarely get hangovers; ours never last long. But humans, well, that’s a whole other story.” Raini sipped at her coffee. “From now on, we should call this circle-of-hell state either a drunk-over or a blitzed-over.”

  “I vote for the latter.”

  “Then it is done.”

  Khloé gave a curt nod. Spotting a familiar figure walk by, she frowned. “On another note … I can’t help but notice that members of Maddox’s lair seem to pass by us a lot these days.”

  Raini turned stiff as a board. “They do, don’t they?” she clipped.

  Maddox Quentin was not only a local Prime, he was Raini’s anchor. All demons had predestined psychic mates that were often referred to as anchors. When they fused their psyches together, they created an unbreakable link that gave each other the strength, stability, and power to maintain dominance over their inner entity—meaning they would never turn rogue.

  Although the anchor bond wasn’t emotional, anchors were exceedingly loyal to one another and often became close friends. They also supported and protected each other. They trusted each other more than they trusted their Primes, partners, and friends. Sometimes anchors were a little too protective, not to mention notoriously possessive—even if the latter was only on a platonic level.

  Raini and Maddox had first met at his club, the Damned, when her lair was searching for information on who’d tried to have Devon kidnapped. In fact, Devon had originally thought he might have brokered the deal—he was known for doing such things.

  Given that Maddox was also rumored to be a somewhat pitiless, unremorseful demon who possessed very few ethics, it was little wonder that Raini was disappointed to have him as an anchor. He was a “descendant,” a breed of demon that came into being after The Fallen mated with demons and created something darker than dark. They were a secretive, inclusive bunch who never permitted anyone outside of their own breed to join their lairs.

  Raini and Maddox hadn’t formed the anchor bond, and it didn’t seem as if either party wanted to. But he didn’t seem inclined to leave her alone. He telepathed her often, even though she never responded to him. But she hadn’t been clear to anyone on just what he said when he contacted her.

  “Do you think he has people subtly watching over you?” Khloé asked.

  Raini gave a haughty shrug. “Don’t know, don’t care.”

  Yes, she did. Anyone who knew the succubus well could sense that it was getting to her. “Has he said anything to indicate he wants the anchor bond?”

  “No. He mostly just telepathically checks-in to see if I’m fine, even though I never answer.” Raini sighed. “He was supposed to get bored and leave me alone.”

  Khloé could recall the moment that Maddox and Raini discovered they were anchors; could remember how his shock had quickly been replaced by a dark, proprietary look. “I know from experience that the pull of the anchor bond is seriously strong. He’s probably having a hard time fighting it. Aren’t you?”

  Raini looked down into her mug. “My demon keeps pushing me to seek him out; it wants the bond. But I don’t want an anchor I can’t trust, Khloé. Maddox Quentin is not a demon who can be trusted.”

  “That doesn’t mean he wouldn’t be someone you could trust. Demons are often different with their anchors.”

  “I don’t see that it matters much. He’s never claimed to want the bond.”

  “He probably doesn’t want it. Tanner said he’s a control freak. A control freak won’t react well to something being completely outside of his control. But that doesn’t mean Maddox won’t eventually lose the fight. And if he does, he’ll come for you. You need to be ready for that.”

  It wouldn’t be easy to deal with him. The guy hummed with a dark power that had both intrigued and unnerved Khloé’s demon. “We’ll all be here for you. And we’ll burn his dick with hellfire if he upsets you.”

  A weak chuckle bubbled out of Raini. “That should be fun to watch.”

  On hearing the bell above the door chime, Khloé looked to see Harper, Tanner, Devon, and Keenan breeze into the coffeehouse. She felt her eyebrows dip. Given that Tanner was Harper’s bodyguard and Devon’s mate, the three often rode to the Underground together. Keenan, however, didn’t usually accompany them unless Asher was present. Today, he wasn’t.

  As Keenan’s blue eyes locked on her, remnants of last night’s raw need stirred in her belly. Unbidden, his words whispered into her mind …

  I swear to Christ, Khloé, if you mention my cock one more time, I’m going to thrust it inside you and fuck you so hard you’ll be screaming.

  Khloé shoved the memory in a mental box and wrapped it in parcel tape. She would not think about it. Or about their wager. Or about their hot little eye-fuck. Nope.

  Taking in the hard set of his jaw and the dark glitter in his eyes, it was clear he had a bug up his ass about something. How delightful.

  Raini waved a hand at the table. “Morning, people. Your drinks await you. Except for yours, Keenan. Didn’t realize you’d be gracing us with your big, bad presence.”

  The newcomers said their hellos as they claimed seats.

  His eyes boring into Khloé, Keenan took the chair beside hers, making her hormones do a little cheer. “Were you hurt last night?”

  Khloé frowned. “Last night?”

  “During that whole clusterfuck with Enoch,” he elaborated.

  She looked at her cousin. “I take it Grams told you a little about Enoch and you blabbed to Keenan.” Jolene wouldn’t have told her everything—not now that Harper no longer belonged to their lair. Demons were secretive that way.

  Cradling her mug of caramel latte between her hands, Harper replied, “She mentioned it earlier over the phone when I called her. Just hearing about it was disturbing. I can’t imagine how horrible it must have been to actually be there.”

  It was a memory that would stick with Khloé, that was for sure.

  “Were you hurt?” Keenan repeated, his tone clipped. She’d bet the reason he was so pissed was that he’d heard about the incident second-hand instead of directly from her. He had a habit of poking his big, fat nose into her business. Which baffled her, because it wasn’t like said habit got him anywhere.

  “No,” Khloé replied.

  His eyes narrowing, he tilted his head. “Why don’t I believe you?”

  “I don’t know. Why don’t you?”

  His lips thinned. “Are you aware that you look like shit?”

  “Smooth, Keenan,” mumbled Tanner.

  “Well, she does,” said Keenan.

  Khloé couldn’t even deny it. Worse, she felt like shit. She was so tired and drained that she could easily nap right there. Her throat felt all scratchy and sore, and her chest still ached from last night’s near-choking incident.

  As she had no wish to share that with Keenan, she turned back to Harper. “I don’t know how Enoch couldn’t have found what he did wrong,” she said, using the straw to stir her smoothie, “but he’d fully justified it in his head.”

  Devon blew over rim of her steaming mug. “A part of me feels bad for the guy—no parent should have to bury their own kid. But there are lines you don’t cross.”

  Tanner nodded. “Reanimating the body of his daughter was bad enough. Resurrecting the others so she’d have friends to play with … that’s just fucked up, no matter what way you look at it.”

  Oh, Khloé couldn’t agree more.

  Keenan’s knee knocked hers beneath the table—such a small thing, but it was enough to make her pulse jump. “You need to be careful. Jolene didn’t say exactly what you did last night, only that you helped her defeat Enoch. That means you played a part in him losing his daughter all over again—that’s how he’s likely to see it. I doubt he’ll thank you for it.”

  “He’s not dumb, he’ll lay low,” said Khloé.


  “He doesn’t seem to be operating on all cylinders right now, so there’s no knowing what he’ll do.”

  “Keenan’s right, Khloé,” Harper cut in. “And I’m annoyed that I didn’t think of it myself. The guy may confront you or Grams. Maybe even both of you. You could probably kick his ass on your worst day, but he’s a Lazarus demon—they’re practically impossible to permanently kill. Just be careful.”

  “I always am,” said Khloé.

  Keenan snorted. “No, you’re not.”

  “Well, we can pretend I am.”

  His eyes narrowed again. “Why did Jolene need your help with Enoch? You’re not one of her sentinels or a member of her Force. Why call on you?”

  Khloé shrugged one shoulder, nonchalant. “You’ll have to ask her.”

  “I’m asking you.”

  “I know. I heard you.”

  He muttered a curse. “Do you have any idea how exasperating you can be?”

  “Where’d you learn that big word?”

  He ground his teeth so hard she almost snickered. Oh, he was just too easy.

  “I feel all warm and squishy inside when you get this way.” She lifted her cell phone from the table and aimed it at him, as if she’d snap a picture.

  “Don’t you dare,” he all but barked.

  She rolled her eyes. He positively despised having his picture taken. She’d asked him about it once, and he’d said, “You take photos to record memories. People take them of me because they like what they see—that’s all. After centuries of that shit, it gets fucking old.”

  She’d have branded him dramatic if she hadn’t seen how many people—humans and demons alike—covertly took photos of him in passing, just as they might any incredibly hot guy. It seemed harmless enough, but Khloé had to admit that she wouldn’t whatsoever like perfect strangers snapping pictures of her.

  “You’re no fun, Keenan.” She looked away, dismissing him. “I really should have stolen a donut.”

  Watching as the imp closed her mouth around her straw and then sucked in her cheeks, Keenan felt his dick twitch. Jesus, the woman could make him hard without even trying.

  After hearing from Harper what went down with Enoch, he’d wanted to see for himself that Khloé was fine. He also wanted to understand why Jolene would call on her for aid, but it was clear that Khloé had no intention of telling him shit.

  No surprise there. Nothing could ever be that simple with Khloé Wallis.

  He’d seen her fight in the Underground’s combat ring a few times, so he knew she was strong. But he’d seen nothing to suggest she was a power in her own right. The fact that she wasn’t part of Jolene’s ranks only supported that idea.

  Many demons, including himself, kept some of their abilities quiet just to keep others guessing. He knew she had wings, could control most minds, was wicked fast, and possessed the standard ability to conjure hellfire. He wondered what other gifts his little imp possessed.

  His demon studied her carefully, trying to sense just where she sat on the power spectrum. It wasn’t easy to gauge a person’s strength, but his demon had always been good at that. With Khloé, however, it was stumped.

  It was also pissed that she hadn’t called Keenan about the Enoch matter. But then, why would she? She might be under his protection, but she didn’t accept said protection. And she’d never share lair business with outsiders unless cleared by Jolene to do so. His inner demon understood that, but it didn’t care for rationality. As far as it was concerned, she should have called them.

  The entity hadn’t wanted to leave her last night. It constantly bugged him to seek Khloé out, to take what they both craved, to make her theirs. It considered the whole thing a done deal, and it wanted Keenan to get with the program.

  Her bracelets jangled as she lifted her hand and curled stray strands of hair around her ear. The rest of her hair was gathered in a messy bun. Khloé kept her home and workspace freakishly tidy, but you’d never know it to look at her. When it came to her appearance, she was nowhere near as attentive, always combining ill-fitting clothes from different eras.

  Her tees often featured quotes or pictures, and her skin-tight jeans were often ripped or bejeweled. Then there were the headbands, random bracelets, and dangly earrings.

  Sometimes she wore dark pieces. Other days she was one big pop of color, just as she was right then. She always looked cute and quirky and, some-fucking-how, stylish. He honestly didn’t know how she did it, but he strongly suspected she didn’t work it so well on purpose.

  Maybe it was a mistake to have made their little wager, considering it would be utter torture to stop at only feeding from her, but he didn’t intend to back out. If he couldn’t have her, he could at least have one taste of her; he could see her come just once.

  His demon wasn’t the most patient of creatures, but it didn’t mind that it would need to wait seven days before taking what it wanted. The anticipation would only heighten the pleasure.

  Keenan knew she doubted that he’d win the wager. She was wrong to doubt him. He’d meant what he told her; he wasn’t an alcoholic, and it wasn’t a struggle for him to not overindulge. He had more self-discipline than most. It was only Khloé who’d ever shot that self-discipline to shit.

  A female mind touched his. You can stop glaring at my cousin any minute now, said Harper, a smile in her telepathic voice.

  He cut his gaze to the sphinx. I’ll stop glaring when she starts taking the issue of her safety more seriously.

  Teague will be back from his trip next week. He’ll look out for her.

  Keenan fought the urge to snap his teeth. He was not a fan of Khloé’s anchor at all. Not only because Teague tried keeping her away from Keenan, but because … As anchors go, he’s fucking useless. He doesn’t try to keep her out of trouble or watch out for her.

  I’ll admit he’s not always the most attentive anchor, but he has saved her from herself a number of times. I think it’s just that, being as crazy as she is, he sees most of her behavior as normal.

  “Would the two of you like to share whatever you’re telepathically talking about with the rest of the class?” Devon asked, a playful haughty note to her voice.

  The sphinx pursed her lips. “No, not really.”

  Devon pouted. “But I wanna know. I’m feeling left out here.”

  Khloé drank the last of her smoothie. “Curiosity poisoned the cat, you know.”

  Devon frowned. “I thought it killed the cat.”

  “Not in my version.”

  “Where did you get your version?”

  “My Aunt Mildred.”

  “You don’t have an Aunt Mildred.”

  “You don’t remember her? Brown hair. Pointy nose. Crooked front teeth. Huge mole on her chin. Hazel eye.”

  Tanner’s brow creased. “Eye? Not Eyes?”

  “She lost the other eye,” Khloé told him. “Snake bite.”

  “You do not have an aunt named Mildred,” Devon insisted.

  “I do! Seriously, why would I lie about it?”

  “No idea. But then, I have no idea why you do half the things you do.”

  “And I have no idea how you could forget Mildred.”

  Keenan felt his mouth twitch. Even for an imp, she was especially good at fucking with people.

  Devon pushed out of her chair. “It’s too early in the day for this shit, Wallis. Let’s just get to work.”

  Khloé huffed and stood. “Fine. But I can’t believe you don’t remember Aunt Mildred.”

  “Oh my god, stop!”

  As they all walked out of the coffeehouse, Keenan telepathically reached out to Khloé. I look forward to collecting on my wager.

  Aw, you really think you’ll win it? she asked without sparing him a glance. I can’t help but feel sorry for you.

  His mouth twitched. I’ll win. And then I’ll have my taste of you.

  She flicked him a look full of pity, and his demon smiled. It liked that she was so over-confident—it would
make the win all the sweeter for the entity. In effect, it had cornered and captured its prey. She just didn’t know it yet.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Later that day, Keenan knocked on the door to Knox’s main office within the Underground. Hearing the Prime’s bid to enter, Keenan walked inside and then closed the door behind him.

  Knox sat at the executive desk, shuffling papers. The printer on his left whirred as it fired up. A glass of what looked like gin and tonic sat next to the hi-tech computer, along with stationery and a block of memo notes.

  The Prime wasn’t alone in the office.

  Sitting on the sofa near the large window that overlooked the combat ring, Larkin briefly peered up from her laptop and said, “Hey, Keenan.”

  “Hey,” he returned, watching as the harpy’s fingers deftly ran across the keyboard. When Knox needed access to private information of any kind, he set the female sentinel on it. She was a whizz with computers.

  Standing in the corner of the sleek, modern space while talking into his cell phone, Levi merely tipped his chin at Keenan in greeting.

  Keenan gave the reaper a short nod and then strolled toward the desk. He flicked a brief glance at the wall-mounted security monitors that provided CCTV footage of the goings-on within the Underground. There was never any real peace there—it was full of demons, after all. They had to be watched carefully.

  “You investigated the complaint?” asked Knox, leaning back in his seat.

  Keenan sank into the chair opposite him. Like the rest of the ample seating, it was cushioned with rich Italian leather and comfy as fuck. “Yes. It was legit.”

  The Prime was as merciless as they came, but there were always demons who rebelled and earned themselves a punishment. Knox’s Force handled the smaller matters, but there were times when the sentinels needed to step in. Like when someone from their lair complained that a member of the Force had not only roughly detained them without due cause but had also physically assaulted them—something that would not be tolerated.