She was much like her father—a pain in the padded ass who pushed people’s buttons on a regular basis. Which she took pride in, to be honest. Keenan knew that about her and seemed to want her in spite of it, sure, but … well … ugh, she didn’t know what to do.
“You said you don’t want promises from me,” Keenan went on. “That’s good, because I can’t make you any. My past attempts at relationships didn’t work so well. But that doesn’t mean this is doomed to end. I’m not asking you to move in with me or make an irrevocable commitment. I’m asking you to agree to take this slow and see what happens.”
He talked as if they were already together and she just needed to acknowledge it. “And if it takes us nowhere?”
“At least we’ll know.”
She bit her lip. “What about your demon? Is it onboard with this?”
“Oh yeah, it’s onboard. And it’s pretty sure yours is, too. Is that true?”
“Yes. I don’t get why, but my demon weirdly likes you.”
His lips twitched. “Then be done hesitating.”
Sighing, she scratched at her head. “Okay, we can try this more-thing and see what happens, whatever that even entails. But I can’t guarantee I’ll be any good at it—I’ve never done it before.”
A smile tugged at one corner of his mouth. “That’s all right. I can be patient.”
She snorted. “Patient. Right.”
He cupped her chin. “You know that this is exclusive, right? There’ll be no other men for you, and there’ll be no other women for me.”
She nodded. “I can agree to that.”
A knock sounded at the door. “Khloé, you okay in there?” Raini called out.
“I’m fine, I just need two minutes!” Khloé replied. She puffed out a breath. “I guess we better get out there,” she told him.
When he set her down on her feet, she straightened her dress and cast a forlorn look at her torn panties. “You didn’t need to ruin them.”
Closing his fly, he shrugged. “They were in my way.” He scooped them up off the floor and stuffed them in the back pocket of his jeans. Once he’d disposed of the condom, he took her hand, led her to the door, and then pulled it open.
Raini took one look at them and grinned. “Did you guys have an allergic reaction to something? Your lips are awfully swollen.”
“Fuck off,” muttered Khloé.
The succubus just laughed.
*
Having wrapped the soft towel around her, Khloé did a long stretch, feeling deliciously sore. Keenan had followed her home from the Xpress bar yesterday evening and tumbled her into bed. They’d spent the night talking, laughing, teasing, and fucking.
He’d left an hour ago, since—as Asher’s bodyguard—he needed to join Harper, Knox, and Asher on their trip to an amusement park. He’d made it clear that he planned to return to her afterward.
Raini must have excitedly spilled the beans to Harper and Devon, because the two she-demons had called Khloé to ask if she and Keenan were truly a thing now. Harper was beyond thrilled. Devon was just as happy, but she was also worried what it would do to Khloé if things went south.
Khloé wasn’t afraid to take the risk that she might get hurt, because just maybe the outcome of that risk would be something good. What did weigh on her was the knowledge that if the relationship came to an end, she wouldn’t be able to cut him out of her everyday life.
He was a staple in her cousin’s life—not only as Harper’s sentinel, but as Asher’s bodyguard. For that reason alone, Khloé came into contact with the incubus at least twice a week. He also attended most of her lair’s celebratory events, since Harper and Asher were usually in attendance. And he was of course present at each of Harper’s events.
If the relationship came to a screeching halt, there would really be no way for him and Khloé to avoid each other. They couldn’t truly go their separate ways—their lives were too interlinked. Seeing him so regularly would be hard enough. But it would also mean she’d always hear about whatever women came after her. And if he found himself serious about someone again, Khloé wouldn’t be able to enjoy the bliss of ignorance.
It would hurt. Badly. And if she desperately needed to get away or put some space between them, she’d have to give up her job and maybe even move out of Vegas.
So, yeah, she was taking a big risk here. But she’d tried ignoring what she felt for him, and it hadn’t worked. Besides, she’d gotten the distinct impression that if she’d said no, Keenan wouldn’t have let it alone. Like her, he seemed tired of wrestling with what he wanted. All they could do was take a gamble and hope it paid off.
In her bedroom, she dressed and dried her hair. Humming to herself, she headed downstairs and went to the kitchen. Khloé frowned at the male who was sitting at her breakfast bar, munching on cereal. “What are you doing?”
Ciaran spared her a brief glance. “Eating while I waited for you to get your boney ass downstairs.”
“My ass is not boney.” She crossed to one of the cupboards and pulled out a Danish pasty. “Why are you here?”
“Orrin managed to locate David Shore. Grams wants to pay him a visit in an hour. You interested in coming?”
Khloé’s demon perked up. “Oh, yeah, definitely.”
“Figured as much.” He spooned more cereal. “So … want to tell me why Keenan’s jacket is hanging on your coat rack?”
She tensed. “No, not really.”
Ciaran smirked. “Oh, so it’s like that, huh? Thought so. I would have assumed you guys are just bed-buddies, but he wouldn’t have deliberately left his jacket here to mark his territory if it wasn’t more serious than that.”
She frowned. “He’s not marking his territory. He just forgot to take it with him.”
Sighing, Ciaran leaned forward. “Khlo, commitment-phobic demons like Keenan are extremely careful not to leave their shit at a woman’s house—they don’t want to lead her on or have to go back. I’m telling you, he left that jacket as a message to any guy who comes here.”
Khloé made an exasperated sound. “Male demons are so weird.”
Once she’d eaten breakfast, Ciaran teleported her to their grandmother’s house. Khloé’s brows lifted when she saw that her father was waiting with Jolene and Orrin. He’d seemingly convinced his mother to allow him to come along. Well, it wasn’t like he wouldn’t be useful—Richie was very good at interrogations.
It turned out that David Shore lived at an apartment complex in Michigan. The building was pretty decent and had good security. No security was good enough to keep out imps, though—especially one who could teleport. So, it wasn’t long before Khloé and her lair members were standing outside David’s apartment.
Taking the lead, Jolene knocked on his front door. When there was no answer, she knocked again. Still nothing. She pressed her ear to the door. “I can’t hear any activity going on inside.”
“Maybe he’s not home,” said Ciaran.
“Maybe,” Jolene allowed. Still, she knocked again.
“Want me to teleport inside and see if the place is empty?” Ciaran asked.
Just then, the elevator behind them pinged. They turned just as a thin figure stepped out of the elevator with a grocery bag tucked under his arm, his eyes fixed on the screen of the cell phone in his hand.
He certainly matched the description of the guy they were looking for, so it was no surprise that he walked toward David’s apartment. He froze when he finally spotted the demons gathered there.
Jolene gave him a pleasant smile. “David Shore?”
He threw the bag and ran through the door that led to the stairwell.
They all dashed after him, their feet thundering down the stairs, throwing hellfire orbs and yelling for him to stop. One orb hit his hand, causing him to drop his cell phone. He hissed in pain but kept on running.
Reaching the first level, he rocketed toward the exit. Ciaran appeared in front of it, causing David to skid to a halt. He turned to run, but the
other imps surrounded him.
His chest heaving, David spun in a circle, searching for a weakness in their defenses, finding none. The burned flesh on his hand hissed and blistered as the hellfire ate at it. The orb sure got him good.
Planting his feet, Ciaran glanced at Khloé. “Now, sis, why would he run from us?”
“Good question,” she said. “The move screamed ‘guilty conscience’ to me.”
Her chin up, Jolene took a step toward the familiar. “You know who I am. Yes?”
Cradling his burned hand, David gave a short nod, eying her warily. “Jolene Wallis.”
Her smile was all politeness. “Very good. As you may already have guessed, these people you see here are members of my lair. We’re not here to hurt you, David. We hope to speak to a friend of yours. I think you know who I mean.”
He averted his gaze for the briefest moment. “I-I don’t.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
Khloé tilted her head. “Why do you think he’s lying, Grams?”
Jolene pursed her lips. “I’m not yet sure. But we’ll find out.”
His eyes wide, he shook his head. “I’m not lying, I swear.”
Jolene flicked her hand. A blast of hot air swept him up and mercilessly flung him at the wall so hard that the plaster cracked. He dropped to the ground like a rock, groaning.
Ouch.
“Maybe you should rethink your answer, Mr. Shore,” suggested Orrin.
Richie nodded. “Yeah, I think that would be for the best.” Coughing, David pushed to his feet. “I can’t tell you what I don’t know.”
A nauseating crack split the air. David cried out as his now-broken leg crumpled beneath him. He stared open-mouthed at the bone protruding out of his calf. “Fuck.”
Khloé winced at the sight, though she had to admit she envied her father’s ability to break bones with his mind. She could cause so much shit with a gift like that. Which was why it was no doubt for the best that she didn’t have it.
Jolene brushed an imaginary piece of lint from her blouse. “Let’s not play games, David. They bore me. Where’s Enoch?”
Panting, David licked his lips. “He left my lair a long time ago.” He coughed again. “We haven’t been in contact since then.”
Khloé twisted her mouth. “Yeah, I’m still not believing him. Pops, break his femur this time—I’ve heard that hurts like a bitch.”
“No!” shouted David. “No, no, don’t!”
“Then answer Jolene’s question truthfully,” said Richie. “Tell us where we’ll find Enoch.”
David weakly shook his head. “I’d tell you if I could, but I honestly don’t know.” The sound of his femur bone breaking echoed throughout the stairwell. He cried out again, his fingers retracting like claws. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.”
His face contorting with anger and pain, he slung a ball of hellfire at Jolene. She popped up her shield, which absorbed the orb, and then gave him a bored look.
“Bad move,” said Orrin.
David’s head whipped to the side, and blood spurted out of his mouth. Khloé knew the sentinel had dealt him a telepathic punch.
Jolene sighed. “I really am tired of your pointless denials, David. Each time you lie to us, we’re going to hurt you. There are lots of ways we can do that. Weird and wonderful and delightfully agonizing ways. Must we really demonstrate? Or shall we skip straight to the part where you tell me what I want to know?”
David spat a blob on the floor. Among the saliva and blood were two teeth. Ew.
He stared up at the Prime, lines of pain carved into his pale face. “You’ll kill me even if I do.”
“Nonsense,” said Jolene. “I’ll only kill you if you continue to refuse to cooperate.”
“If I were you, I wouldn’t worry too much about dying,” Khloé told him. “Enoch will no doubt resurrect you. You’ll probably be his favorite toy.”
David blanched as his expression morphed into one of pure horror. Yeah, she wouldn’t like the thought of her dead body being used as a puppet either.
Jolene folded her arms. “No more lies. When did you last see him?”
David closed his eyes, his shoulders sagging. “A week ago,” he admitted, his voice like gravel. “He said he needed some money and a place to lay low for a while. I gave him what money I had on me. Fifty or sixty dollars—something like that.”
“And just where is he laying low?” Jolene persisted.
“My uncle’s hunting cabin. It’s not far from here.” He rattled off the address.
Jolene smiled. “Thank you, David, you’ve been most helpful.” She turned to her lair members. “Shall we go?”
Ciaran pushed open the exit door, and they all began to file outside.
Khloé looked at David, who seemed shocked that they were actually allowing him to live. “Just in case you get any mad ideas to borrow a cell phone and call Enoch to warn him that we’re coming …” She raised her hand and zapped him with a high charge of electric fire. It coursed through his body, making him shake and convulse. Then he sagged, out cold.
Turning back to the exit, she shrugged at Ciaran, who was still holding the door open. “He’ll wake up in a few hours,” she said.
“He’ll also have one fuck of a headache to go with those broken bones.”
“You gotta love electric fire.”
CHAPTER TEN
“Seems like no one’s home,” said Orrin, sweeping the open-plan log cabin with his gaze.
Khloé reached out with her mind, searching for others. The only ones she found were those of her lair members. “He was here very recently.” There was evidence of his presence all around them—the dirty skillet on the cooking stove, the remnants of recently burned wood in the stone fireplace, the pile of unlaundered clothes on the floor, the unwashed dishware that had been plonked in the sink.
She felt her nose wrinkle. “Not the tidiest guy in the world, is he?” She could never live like this. The sight of the mess actually made her shudder.
The cabin was pretty basic. In terms of furniture, there was a couch, small dining table, two wooden chairs, a bed, a night-stand, and a few outdated appliances in the kitchenette. It might have been cozy if it was in better shape.
A fine layer of dust coated most surfaces. Streaks of grime stained the windows. Flakes of mud and fragments of dead grass littered the floor and were wedged between the wooden planks. It surprised her that there were no patches of rot or evidence of leaks.
“Maybe he went for a walk,” suggested Ciaran, studying the empty gun rack near the front door. “What else is there for him to do around here? It’s not like he’d have to worry about being spotted by people who’d then report his whereabouts. This place is out in the middle of nowhere.”
Very true. Khloé peered out of a grimy window. There didn’t seem to be anything out there other than trees, thickets, and long grass.
“Can we be sure the cabin’s current guest is Enoch?” asked Richie. “David could have lied about his whereabouts.”
“It’s Enoch.” Kneeling near the nightstand, Orrin held out a framed picture. “Found this in the drawer.”
Jolene took the picture, and her face softened. “Molly. She was such a sweet kid.” The Prime tapped her nail on the silver frame. “I can’t envision him leaving this photo behind, so I don’t think he up and left. He’s around here somewhere, and he’ll be back sooner or later.”
“I say we lie in wait; surprise him,” proposed Ciaran.
“Maybe he never left,” mused Orrin, flexing his foot on a particularly creaky floorboard. He kicked aside the rug that covered it, revealing a cellar door.
Khloé exchanged a look with Ciaran.
Orrin dropped to his knees and put an ear to the hatch. “There’s movement coming from down there. I can hear scuffling sounds.”
“I doubt it’s Enoch,” said Jolene. “He’d do his best to stay still so that we wouldn’t hear him. Plus, he’d have had a hell of a t
ime placing the rug over the hatch after closing it.”
“Not if he’s telekinetic,” Orrin pointed out, lifting his head to meet her gaze. “He isn’t known to have that ability, but we demons like to keep our secrets, don’t we?”
True enough. “I can’t feel any other minds here,” said Khloé. “Not even that of an animal, so it can’t be some form of wildlife scurrying around down there.”
“Something’s moving,” he said. “And my gut’s screaming at me to find out what it is.”
“Then do it, though I’m not sure what you expect to find.” Jolene cut her gaze to Richie, who stood near the front window. “Watch out for any signs of Enoch.”
Orrin unfastened the rusty bolt and then hauled open the heavy wooden door, making the hinges creak. Khloé peered down into the dark cellar. Dust motes danced in the shaft of sunlight that streamed through the open hatch and shined over a rickety ladder, a bare lightbulb, and the stack of boxes near the base of the steps. But it was what she could smell that snatched her attention.
Khloé backed away fast and put the back of her hand against her nose. “Something’s dead down there.” There was no mistaking the scents of death and decay.
Jolene’s mouth twisted in distaste. “It can’t be one of his puppets. We’d have felt their mind.”
“I’m guessing he killed and stashed someone down there,” said Orrin. “Only one way to find out.” He began a slow, careful walk down the creaky cellar steps.
Khloé looked at her father. “Any sign of Enoch, Pops?”
“None,” Richie replied without turning his gaze from the window.
Orrin paused halfway down the steps and tugged on the pull string near the bulb. The light didn’t flicker on. “Great. Anyone got a—”
A pale hand snapped out of the darkness and cuffed his ankle. It yanked hard, dragging him down the stairs. Orrin hit the floor hard and crashed into the boxes. Three rotting corpses stumbled out of the shadows and descended on him. His hoarse cries mingled with their grunts.
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