He was also currently involved with a female hellhound who’d paid Devon an unexpected visit to—in the nicest possible way—warn her to keep her distance from him. Devon had—in the bitchiest possible way—told Eleanor Owens to fuck right off.
The memory had her grinding her teeth. As a rule, Devon didn’t really do jealousy. She felt the occasional twinge of envy here and there, but she was never bitter if someone had something that she wanted … until now.
If her attraction to him was just about his looks, she could have ignored it easily enough. But it was more than that. She admired his depth of loyalty, his dedication to his role of sentinel, and how protective he was of those who mattered to him. And yeah, okay, she was as turned-on by his alpha ways as she was annoyed by them.
Although he could irritate her like no one else, he was one of the few people she trusted. Tanner Cole was not a person who let people down or who took their trust for granted. He was solid. Reliable. Brimmed with integrity. All that drew her like a magnet.
Right then, his attention settled over Devon like there was no one else in the room. He didn’t give her his usual teasing smile. It wasn’t hard to tell that he was a very unhappy bunny. A barely leashed anger seemed to ripple the air around him.
His gaze heated as it boldly raked over her with a hint of possession that made her bristle. Those eyes were like deep pools of liquid gold. They dug their way under your skin and made you feel exposed.
He prowled toward her, moving with the ease and calmness of a man who knew he could dispatch any threat without breaking a sweat. A man who made things happen. A man who was in control of his own destiny.
Flexing its claws, her feline gave him its usual snarl … just because.
Devon swallowed hard as he stepped into her personal space. Every inch of his skin seemed to hum with the sheer power that lived within him, as if it were barely contained. When she was close, it whispered over her own skin and called to the power that lived inside her.
Sexual tension charged the air, making the hairs on her nape stand up. It was always like that between them. The dazing sexual chemistry was as visceral as it was electric. There was no fighting it. All she’d ever been able to do was channel it; give it an outlet through their constant conflict.
She suspected that part of the appeal for them both was that, due to their demons’ aversion to each other, she and Tanner were each other’s forbidden fruit. Demons were all about instant gratification, and they didn’t like being denied what they wanted.
He lifted her arm and examined the chafing on her wrists. A dark growl rattled his chest. “Where else are you hurt, kitten?”
God, his voice … He could say a perfectly inane sentence with that deep, low-pitched, masculine rumble and she’d still be instantly hot for him. It wasn’t just his voice that enticed her, it was the way he spoke with calm, assertion, and authority. There was often a punch of command there that made it even hotter.
“She has a little chafing on her ankles too, but not quite as bad,” said Jolene.
Tanner’s eyes slammed on the Prime. “Do you have any idea who might have sent someone after her?”
“We will when we speak to the men who work for the broker that arranged the deal. My sentinels are waiting at the cabin for them to show,” Jolene told him.
Harper plonked herself on a stool. “Give me the whole story. I want every little detail.”
*
Listening intently as the Prime relayed what happened, Tanner found himself clenching his teeth so hard his jaw ached. Fury rushed through him, making his blood boil, tightening every muscle until they hurt; it was difficult to keep his grip on Devon’s wrist gentle.
Some fucker had taken her, bound her, used magick on her, marked her flesh. The urge to hunt and kill the son of a bitch was a drumbeat in his veins and battered at his composure.
Knox’s mind slid against his. You’re growling.
Of course he was fucking growling. Devon Clarke was under his protection. She was also the thing he wanted most but could never have. He could, however, keep her safe and erase any threat to her—which he fully intended to do.
I’m gonna find who wants her and fuck their shit up, he told Knox. You know I take my position of Harper’s bodyguard very seriously—
As it happens, Harper already told me she wants you to join the hunt for him, said Knox. Larkin can guard her any time you’re unavailable—she’s done it before. But Jolene might not like you partaking in the hunt; she’ll want to kill him herself. I doubt Devon will like it either.
No, the hellcat wouldn’t. She often told Tanner to butt out of her business. She’d also rebuffed his offer of protection more times than he could count. She’ll just have to deal with it.
It wouldn’t be the first time she’d chewed a chunk out of Tanner’s ass. They’d been “at war” since they first met, exchanging annoying little gifts. She’d bought him things such as milk bones, a dog lead, and even a can of puppy chow. He’d bought her gifts such as balls of yarn, a pretty collar, and a catnip plant. The playful war was an outlet for all their sexual tension, really.
Tanner frowned at something Jolene said. “What do you mean by ‘she got free?’” he asked. “She was spelled to a chair.”
“He obviously wasn’t as powerful as he thought,” replied Jolene. “It’s not easy to magickly bind any breed of hellbeast—you know that.”
Sensing it was more than that, he looked down at Devon, who was staring into her mug. Apparently, she didn’t want him knowing how she’d freed herself. It wasn’t unusual for demons to keep some of their abilities quiet, but he didn’t like that she didn’t trust him with the information. “You’re sure the bastard’s dead?”
Devon’s head whipped around to face him, and her angry eyes sparkled like chips of ice. “What, you don’t think I have it in me?”
He almost smiled. Perverse as it was, he liked riling her. Liked that he could get under her skin—it was only fair, she seemed to live under his. He didn’t know what it said about him that his cock hardened in the face of her anger. “It was just a question, kitty cat. Not everyone has the stomach to kill.”
In truth, he had no trouble believing that she’d coldly disposed of the incantor. Every instinct he had told him that she was as dangerous as she was beautiful, like a shower of glass shards.
He’d never wanted anything even half as much as he wanted Devon Clarke. He knew a lot of guys liked slender women, but Tanner preferred curves. Liked to thrust his cock into something soft. Devon had gorgeous curves and a body made to be worshipped. She was all tits and ass. And fuck if he didn’t love that ass. And those tits.
Heads never failed to turn when she entered a room. Devon Clarke was a woman who made you sit up and take notice. Gave off an energy that was all sex and mystery and self-assurance.
Her expressive cat-green eyes were framed by long, thick eyelashes that made him think of black lace. An ultraviolet river of shimmering spiral curls spilled down her back, tempting him to fist them tight while he ravished that bow-shaped mouth that was just as succulent as her scent … strawberry candy canes with a hint of vanilla. That scent was like a warm, slick fist wrapped tight around his cock.
Beautiful women weren’t rare—he’d known plenty of them. But Devon held a deeper appeal for him. Fascinated him, even. Maybe it was because she defied stereotypes. There was no way to label her. She was a whole host of contradictions. Responsible yet impulsive. Antagonistic yet restful. Open yet guarded. Mischievous yet serious-minded. She also had a wit he could fully enjoy, and he’d bet she’d be a firecracker in bed.