“No, little man, they’re not for you.” Harper rolled her eyes. “I’m thankful he can’t pyroport very far right now, or he’d probably plop himself on top of one of the hellhorses.”
“That would be a bad idea, dude,” Devon told him. “No one rides a hellhorse unless they’re crazy.”
Khloé frowned. “I’ve ridden Teague’s steed a few times.”
“I rest my case,” said the hellcat.
Snorting, Khloé turned back to the view of the track.
“Hellhorses might be insane, but there’s no denying that they’re beautiful,” said Larkin.
Beautiful was an understatement, in Khloé’s opinion. They were regal and elegant with their arched neck, long legs, inward-turned ear tips, and their long, high-carried tail. Their metallic coat and lush mane were as dark as their all-black, wide-set eyes. In a word, they were breathtaking.
Teague’s stallion was easily identifiable due to the large scar that slashed across its neck, but Khloé would have recognized it anyway. It had a little extra, indefinable something that made it so much more magnificent and majestic than the others. It was also packed with more muscle and had an intimidatingly confident air.
It was favorite to win, like always. Every person in the VIP box—other than Asher, of course—had placed a bet on it.
Raini grinned. “I love how Teague’s hellhorse just stands there very still while the others try to irritate it by snapping their teeth or puffing smoke out of their nostrils. It doesn’t even look their way, as if it believes it’s above all that.”
“I honestly don’t know why anyone would even bother to race against it,” said Devon. “That stallion never loses.”
“That’s exactly why people want to race against it,” said Keenan. “They know that if they do miraculously win, they’ll make an instant name for themselves.”
The hellcat lifted her brows. “Never thought of it like that.”
“See the female hellhorse on the far right?” asked Khloé. “She’s the smallest of all the competitors.”
“I see her,” said Keenan. “I’ve seen her race before. She’s fast, especially for her size.”
“She is,” Khloé confirmed. “She’s been hounding Teague to father her child, ignoring his refusals. I know that hellbeasts often choose fathers for their kids who are fit and strong and powerful. But of all the reasons to ask someone to father your child, she actually asked Teague so that their offspring might be a hellhorse racing champion.”
“Sounds like she’s hoping to achieve something through her child that she can’t achieve herself,” said Larkin. “Some parents are like that. Ooh, looks like the race is about to start.”
Done with her hotdog, Khloé placed her napkin in the trash and then opened the sliding glass door. As she stepped out onto the private balcony, the scents of dirt, horses, and concession food drifted to her. Keenan and the others joined her on the balcony, their gazes locked on the hellhorses.
A hush had fallen upon the stadium, and the steeds had all stilled. The air was taut with intensity, excitement, and anticipation. It was enough to make Khloé’s stomach flutter again.
A horn beeped, signaling the start of the race. The hell-horses burst into action and flew across the track. Their hooves thundered along the ground, kicking up so much dirt that dust clouded the air.
Teague’s stallion kept its pace steady but swift as it fell into something like, what, seventh place? It was hard to tell straight off. There were so many competitors. The hellhorses didn’t stay in their own lanes. They ran as a tight herd, biting and body-slamming each other as they strived to reach first place.
Voices gave a fast commentary over the loudspeaker, but Khloé wasn’t really listening. She was focused on the track, calling out Teague’s name and cheering on his demon.
“I like the way Teague’s hellhorse hangs back a little, like it knows it’s a given that it’ll win,” said Devon.
“The race is still hard to watch,” began Harper, “because you know there’s no way that they’ll walk off that track without some injuries. Shit, they’re coming to the first hurdle.”
Khloé held her breath as Teague’s stallion jumped high, clearing the wall and ditches. A couple of the others weren’t so lucky—one scraped its belly on the pieces of broken glass that studded the top of the stone wall. Another landed awkwardly, and one foreleg crumpled beneath it. In both cases, the steeds tumbled into the ditch of spears.
Raini flinched. “It’s painful to watch.”
Khloé nodded. “That had to hurt like a mother.” Her demon loved the mercilessness of it all, the freak.
She bit her lip as the rest of the hellhorses rocketed across the track, their legs a blur. They galloped through pools of flaming water, leapt over hedges that blazed with hellfire, and cleared walls that were embedded with thorns and spikes—always striving to avoid the ditches. Some succeeded, but not all.
“There’s fourteen steeds left,” said Keenan. “Thirteen,” he corrected when a hellhorse tumbled into a lava ditch. Its squeals of agony made her chest hurt.
The other steeds paid it no attention, needing to focus. They bolted, their hooves thudding so hard on the ground she would bet the spectators near the fence could feel the vibrations.
Her heart sank when she glimpsed the next hurdle. It wasn’t simply a high wall. Short swords stabbed out of its sides and surface every few seconds. Swords which could easily slice the knees, legs, or stomach of the hellhorses.
As the steeds approached the hurdle, the one beside Teague’s swung its head, neck extended, and bit Teague’s shoulder hard enough to make it nicker and shake its head.
“That mothertrucker,” Khloé hissed, remembering not to swear in front of Asher. She suspected that said mothertrucker had hoped to distract Teague’s steed from adequately prepping itself to jump. She mentally crossed her fingers and toes, hoping the dirty trick wouldn’t work.
Time seemed to slow for her as she watched her anchor push off its hindlegs and leap into the air. Khloé squeezed Keenan’s hand, fighting the temptation to close her eyes. The hellhorse soared, all grace and power … and it cleared the hurdle.
She practically sagged. “Thank freaking God.”
A few of the other steeds didn’t manage to clear the wall, and the swords sliced through their stomachs. Wincing, she flinched as—to make their pain even worse—they fell into a ditch of boiling water. One of them was the mothertrucker who’d bitten Teague’s steed. Well hello, karma.
“They’re dropping like flies,” said Keenan. “There’s only ten left.”
All ten rocketed along the track. Some were tiring and falling behind while others, including her anchor, purposely surged forward. They tackled more hurdles, and most cleared them. Two found themselves in ditches, leaving only eight competitors.
As they neared another hurdle, one steed breathed fire onto the rear legs of the one in front of it. The surprise and pain must have been enough to put the hellhorse off its game, because it lost its momentum and didn’t quite make the next jump. Worse, it fell onto a bed of red-hot iron spikes.
The fucking firestarter targeted Teague’s steed next, blowing flames at his hindlegs and tail. Shit, no.
Her anchor let out a throaty whine, and its pace faltered slightly, making her stomach drop. But then it put on a burst of speed, even as its tail blazed with hellfire.
Devon bounced lightly on her toes. “That’s it, run, you psycho, run!”
Khloé joined her hands together and put them against her mouth. “Come on, faster. You got this.”
It picked up speed again and leaped over the next hurdle … neatly skating right into third place.
Keenan rested a hand on her shoulder. “It’s third, baby.”
“I know.” Khloé fanned her face. “Okay, they’re almost at the final part of the track.” The hurdles there were the worst, and some were close together.
The remaining competitors galloped along the track, their coa
ts gleaming with a fine sheen of sweat. They also attacked each other—biting, body-slamming, breathing fire, and puffing out smoke in an effort to fog the others’ vision. The pain and distractions sometimes worked, causing some to fall or trip up. The rest forged onward.
The voices coming from the tiered stands became louder, and the commentator’s voice became thick with urgency.
Khloé’s heart jumped as Teague’s hellhorse slid into second place. “That’s it, that’s it, keep going.”
The small female hellhorse was hot on its heels. It moved closer, and closer, and closer.
“Okay, they’re coming up to the last hurdle,” said Harper, bouncing from foot to foot.
And it was a bitch of a hurdle, too. The flaming hedge was wrapped in thick, thorny vines that snapped out like small whips.
“Go, go, go!” yelled Raini.
Just as the remaining steeds neared the hurdle, the female hellhorse slammed its body so hard into Teague’s stallion that the male almost crashed into the fence that bordered the track. Worse, the move put the steed at an angle that made it awkward for it to clear the hurdle.
“What a devious little bitch,” spat Khloé, forgetting she wasn’t supposed to swear.
She almost covered her face with her hands as the stallion and the female leapt into the air. Teague’s steed successfully jumped the hurdle, to her utter relief. The female, however, wasn’t so successful—its leg buckled as it landed, and it went down hard, tripping up another competitor and taking them both out of the race.
Khloé grabbed Keenan’s arm as her anchor hurtled into first place. The people around her yelled encouragements at the steed, but she held her breath. Finally, it ran over the finish line.
She beamed. “It won!”
An applause broke out, and the spectators went wild. Some people in the neighboring box began swearing and kicking up a fuss. Apparently, they’d bet on the wrong hellhorse.
Cocky and proud, it slowed to a trot and tossed its head, flicking its luxurious mane.
“I totally knew it would win,” said Devon.
Khloé winced at its injuries. “It’s hurt, though.” It had cleared the hurdles, but it had come away with burns, puncture wounds, and ugly cuts.
“They’re all wounded,” Harper pointed out.
Keenan turned his little imp to face him and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Feel better now that it’s over?” he asked.
“Yes, I do.” She blew out a breath. “I gotta pee, though. The intensity is always too much for my bladder.”
Harper chuckled. “I’ll come with you. I’m potty training Asher, so I take him to the toilet every now and then to keep on top of it.”
Keenan nodded, taking his mate’s hand in his. “Larkin and I will escort you.”
Larkin put down her soda and crossed to them. “Ready when you guys are.”
He stayed in the front while Larkin took up the rear as all five of them exited the VIP box. They headed down the empty hallway toward the restrooms. Hinges creaked as a door up ahead of them opened, and a small child stepped out.
Unbelievably fast, Lane raised his hand and sent out a stream of magnetic energy. A stream that careened toward Asher.
Everyone acted at once. Larkin pushed Harper and Asher to the floor and snapped out her wings to help shield them. Keenan tackled Khloé to the floor and covered her with his body.
But the blue steam soared toward Asher, as if it was destined to hit whatever it was aimed at. Asher didn’t pop up his protective shield. Something black and oily seemed to splutter out of the little boy’s hand, and that “something” crashed into the stream and seemed to … consume it, turning it just as black, and rushed toward Lane. It poured into his eyes, nose, and mouth, making his head jerk back. Thea’s son then promptly blacked out and hit the floor.
Before anyone could react, Thea appeared in front of Lane, gripped his arm, and teleported him away.
Everyone jumped to their feet, looking from Asher to the spot where Lane and Thea had just been.
“What in the everloving fuck just happened?” demanded Khloé.
“I don’t know,” said Harper, examining Asher closely.
“Is he okay?” asked Keenan. The kid was pouting but otherwise looked fine.
“Not sure,” replied Harper. “I don’t understand what—” She cut off, her eyes widening. “Khloé, behind you!”
Keenan spun just as Thea looped her arm around Khloé’s neck and teleported away.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Shock numbed Keenan for all of three seconds, blanking his thoughts. Then reality hit him like a blow to the jaw. His demon roared, and his mind lunged for hers. Khloé?
Oh, I’m gonna murder the shit out of this bitch. Khloé hissed in pain, and a weak vibe of dizziness touched his mind. Mother—Her voice cut off with a crackle, as if their mental frequency had been jammed somehow.
His heart slammed against his ribcage. Khloé? Khloé?
Nothing but white noise.
He spat a curse. “Something’s blocking my telepathic connection to Khloé—all I can hear is a faint crackling.”
Rubbing Asher’s back, a pale Harper said, “I can’t reach her either. It’s like there’s psychic interference of some kind.”
Keenan glanced around him, as if there would be a clue as to what was happening or where his mate might be. He dragged his hands through his hair. “I have to go fi—”
Fire roared to life beside Harper, hot and bright. The flames died away, revealing Knox and Levi. Keenan could only assume that Harper had called out to her mate.
Radiating fury, Knox took Asher into his arms and held him close as he looked him over. “What exactly just happened?”
Keenan gave him a quick recap and then scrubbed a hand down his face. “I can’t reach Khloé telepathically—something’s blocking the connection. But Thea can’t teleport far. I might be able to find them.”
“I can see that you’re eager to go out searching for Khloé, but that’s not the best move,” Knox told him.
Keenan bristled. He felt his face go tight and wouldn’t be surprised if his skin looked like it had been stretched tight around his skull. “Knox—”
“Just hear me out. Thea may not be able to go far in one teleport, but she can ‘hop’ from place to place with that ability. There’s no saying where they are. Your best bet is to contact Khloé.”
“I told you, I’ve tried. So has Harper. It didn’t work.”
“Yes, but there’s someone who probably will be able to reach her, because they’re so interlinked with each other that no number of psychic blocks could keep their minds from connecting.”
Keenan frowned. “Teague?”
“No. Ciaran. Twins often have their own frequency, and it’s often far too strong to jam.”
Harper’s brows lifted. “You’re right. Let me call out to Grams and Ciaran.”
“Tell them to meet us at our home,” Knox said to her. “Asher will be safer there.”
Before Keenan could object, flames sprung to life around them all and licked at his skin. When the flames died down, they were all stood in the living room of the mansion.
Keenan felt his nostrils flare. “I need to look for Khloé.”
“I get why you’re raring to leave,” said Knox. “But it makes more sense for you to be here in case Ciaran can reach her. The moment I have her location, I can pyroport you to her. If you’re out searching, I’ll have to go without you.”
“You could pick me up along the way—”
“Which would take mere seconds, yes, but anything could happen to Khloé in those precious seconds. Do you really want them to be wasted?”
Keenan ground his teeth, hating that the Prime made sense. He wanted to move, act, search, kill. A chilling, incapacitating fear had tightened every muscle in his body and wound itself around every bone. But he couldn’t, wouldn’t, let it rule him.
“All right,” he said to his Prime, his voice strained
.
Knox nodded, satisfied. “I’ll telepath Tanner and ask him to take Devon and Raini home before he joins us. They’ll have to—”
Just then, Jolene, Ciaran, Beck, and Khloé’s aunt Martina appeared in the center of the room. All looked as grim and infuriated as Keenan felt.
While Harper brought them up to speed, Keenan paced up and down the room, clenching his fists so tight his knuckles turned white. He couldn’t stand still. He felt too edgy, twitchy, and restless.
His demon was no calmer. Not much rattled the entity, but it was absolutely freaking the fuck out. Because this was Khloé—its mate, the only being whose life mattered more to it than its own.
Realizing his breaths were starting to come quick and shallow, Keenan took a long, centering breath—he couldn’t afford to lose his shit. But no matter how hard he focused on breathing normally, he felt as if he couldn’t get enough oxygen.
Being so helpless threw him back to another time and plucked at old memories. He shoved all that shit aside. This wasn’t about him. It was about Khloé. His mate. The only woman he’d ever loved.
“You think I can reach her?” Ciaran asked Harper.
The sphinx nodded. “She’s your twin. Khloé once told me that her mind used to automatically reach for yours all the time before she was old enough to control it, and vice versa. Tap into that frequency now, Ciaran. Ask her where she is so that we can go get her.”
The male imp’s gaze focused inward, and his eyes clouded.
Keenan went very still, watching Ciaran closely, his guts tied in knots. Seconds ticked by as the guy said nothing at all. Keenan didn’t realize he was holding his breath until he felt the strain in his chest. “Can you reach her or not?”
“I can reach her,” replied Ciaran without focusing his gaze on Keenan. “But there’s a lot of static, like when you’re trying to talk to someone on a cell phone and there’s a bad connection.”
“At least we know for sure that she’s alive,” said Jolene. “Can you tune out the static enough to understand her?”
“I won’t know until she wakes,” replied Ciaran. “She’s unconscious right now.”
Omens (The Dark in You Book 6) Page 27