From her seat in the large dome, Harper Wallis winced along with the other spectators as one of the contenders in the combat circle collided with the ceiling. His opponent looked on with a blank expression, seemingly unmoved.
“That guy doesn’t show an ounce of mercy,” commented her cousin, Ciaran. “It’s awesome.” He was referring to the reaper that, like many demons, often dueled for money in the Underground.
The subterranean location was like the Las Vegas strip on steroids. There were restaurants, bars, nightclubs, casinos, hotels, and amusement rides, among many things. Considering their kind was impulsive, plagued by restlessness, had instant gratification problems, and were prone to pursue cheap thrills to chase off their oppressive boredom, the Underground was every demon’s version of heaven.
Moreover, it was a place where they could blow off steam and didn’t have to pretend to be anything other than what they were.
Harper winced at the snapping of a bone. Fighters were always guaranteed to leave a duel with injuries, broken bones, or even internal bleeding. Some had died during or after duels, despite demons having an accelerated healing rate. That was why she wasn’t joyful at the idea that her other cousin, Khloë, was due to enter the combat circle any minute now. Even if Khloë won the duel, she was still liable to be badly hurt by the end of it.
Harper watched in morbid fascination as the losing contender dealt the reaper, Levi, a series of blows that barely managed to register on the reaper’s radar. He just lifted his contender by the throat and flung him across the dome. Levi’s eyes bled to black, which was a tell-tale sign that his inner demon was in control.
Much like shifters, all demons – no matter the breed – had a dualism to the soul. Whereas shifters shared their soul with an animal, demons shared theirs with a conscienceless dark predator that lacked empathy, was unable to emotionally connect, and had a strong sense of entitlement. An inner demon could surface, enabling it to then talk and take control. The only outward indication of such a thing would be that the person’s eyes would turn totally black.
“Levi will easily end this,” stated Ciaran. “I don’t know what Franklin was thinking when he agreed to this fight. Fuck him up, Levi!” he hollered along with the rest of the crowd. She winced as the reaper proceeded to do just that by telekinetically sending Franklin crashing into the ceiling once again.
Some demons were relatively harmless in that their only abilities were to cause nightmares and read thoughts. At their strongest, however, demons could do things such as possess others and steal souls. Although Harper was powerful, she wasn’t particularly impressed by it. She liked to earn the things she had, and her demonic abilities were something she’d been born with – not the same thing at all.
She scowled at Ciaran. “You’re supposed to be supporting Franklin!” Her scowl deepened at the shifty expression on her cousin’s face. “You bet on Levi, didn’t you?”
He gave her a sheepish look. “Hey, I like Franklin, he’s my friend…but I also happen to be fond of money. That meant backing Levi.”
“Where’s the loyalty toward your friend?”
He pointed at himself. “Duh. Imp. You know…selfish, sneaky, fickle, not to be trusted under any circumstances.”
He did have a point about imps. Her family, like all imp families, had a reputation for being what her grandmother Jolene liked to call ‘multi-talented.’ Humans would term them criminals. They tricked, they stole, they lied, they cheated, and they could get in and out of any place without being noticed…and they were completely casual about it.
Jolene had ensured that Harper was just as ‘multi-talented’ as every other Wallis, despite that Harper wasn’t an imp. There were no hybrids in the demon world. If two different breeds procreated, the child would be one or the other. Harper was the same breed as her absent mother.
Ciaran elbowed her lightly, practically radiating excitement. “Look, Levi’s ready to finish him off.”
The reaper was currently looming over Franklin with his hand hovering over his chest, palm down. Franklin was crying out, his back arched like a bow. A few seconds more of what was clearly excruciating pain and Franklin raised his arm – a signal of surrender. The crowd went wild, cheering and chanting Levi’s name. He stood clenching his fists and breathing deeply, clearly battling his inner demon for complete control. Finally, his eyes returned to normal and his muscles unlocked as the entity retreated.
Levi didn’t strut cockily around the circle like many others did. He was too busy glaring at Franklin, and she got the feeling that he was annoyed with his opponent for surrendering so soon.
“No wonder he’s Knox’s sentinel,” continued Ciaran.
And who was Knox? Well, Knox Thorne was not only the creator of the Underground, but a demon whose lair spanned most of Nevada and even much of California. The Prime was a ruthless billionaire who owned a chain of hotels, restaurants, security firms, bars, and casinos. That was what demons did: they hid in plain sight, mingled in with unsuspecting humans; often in positions that provided them with power, control, respect, and challenges. Many were entrepreneurs, politicians, stock brokers, CEOs, bankers, lawyers, police officers, journalists, chefs, surgeons, and people in the media. Harper herself co-owned a tattoo studio that had many oblivious human customers.
Knox blended in with humans so easily that she doubted even other preternatural species would suspect him of being anything other than human. However, there wasn’t a demon in the world who hadn’t heard of Knox Thorne, since he was rumored to be the most powerful demon in existence – something apparently he’d never denied or confirmed.
There were many other rumors about Knox: that he was dangerous, calculated, notoriously sexual, and someone who lived by his own rules on his own schedule. It was also believed that he had the ability to call on and control the flames of hell, which was extremely rare. It was also scary, because nothing was impervious to the flames of hell.
Hearing her cell phone ring, Harper fished it out of her pocket and frowned at the name on the screen. It was Khloë. “Shouldn’t you be immersing yourself in ‘your zone’?” teased Harper on answering.
“I need you to come back here.” Pain dripped from her words, making Harper stiffen.
“Khloë, what’s going on?”
“Quickly.” With that, she ended the call.
“Khloë needs me for something.” Harper gave Ciaran her half-eaten hotdog for safekeeping, though they both knew he’d eat it. “I’ll be back in two minutes.”
Harper rushed to the end of the row, vaulted down the steps, and headed to the manned door that led backstage. The doorman, who knew her family well, said, “Khloë’s in room twelve. You’re not going to like what you find.”
Shit. Harper dashed down the corridor before reaching the door she was searching for. Stepping into the room, she came to an abrupt halt. Anger whizzed through her system. “Khloë, what the fuck?”
The small, olive-skinned girl’s attempt at a smile earned her a wince; she put a hand up to her split, swollen lip. Her clothes were torn and she was covered in bruises and scratches. Peeking up at Harper through one eye, she said, “It wasn’t my fault.”
Well that would be a first. Khloë had a tendency to get in deep shit. “Who did this to you?”
“Mona’s little group attacked me in the restroom a few minutes ago.”
“What?”
Mona was not only Khloë’s opponent but a bitch who had a hard-on for Khloë simply because she’d once slept with a guy Mona liked.
Demons tended to hold a grudge.
“I wondered if maybe Mona put them up to it,” said Khloë. “But would she really think she’d get away with this?”
Yes, Mona would. The harbinger thought herself untouchable because her anchor was a demon within Knox’s Force. Demons were predominantly psychic creatures. They didn’t have soul mates, but they came in pairs. That meant they each had a predestined psychic mate, or ‘anchor’, who made them stronger and gave them the stability that prevented them from turning rogue.
By fusing their psyches, a powerful, unbreakable link formed between the demons. It wasn’t sexual or emotional, it existed on a psychic level. Demons were very protective of their anchors, but Harper didn’t give a shit who Mona’s anchor was – no one messed with her family.
“Where are Mona’s little bitches now?” demanded Harper, pacing.
Khloë’s expression was grim. “The doorman went searching for them, but they’re nowhere to be found – conveniently. They got what they wanted; I can’t go out there. I can’t fight like this.”
It was true. Not even their accelerated healing rate would have Khloë back to normal within the small timeframe she had. “No, you can’t,” agreed Harper. “But I can.”
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Hearing a knock on the office door, Knox turned away from the reflective glass that provided him with a perfect view of the combat circle. “Come in.” Three of his sentinels – Tanner, Keenan, and Larkin – entered. Glimpsing the hard set to Tanner’s jaw, Knox knew he wasn’t going to like the information he had sent them to attain.
Setting his glass of gin and tonic on the desk, Knox said, “Tell me.”
Tanner halted directly in front of him, and the others flanked him. “More strays have gone missing than we thought. We checked to see if there have been disappearances in other areas, but it seems to only be happening in Las Vegas right now.”
The matter had only come to their attention a few days ago, since Knox didn’t monitor the population of strays – demons that chose to live outside of a lair. But it seemed that someone was simply plucking them from the streets. Strays weren’t under his protection, but that didn’t mean Knox liked anyone using Las Vegas as their own personal hunting ground. Unlike shifters, demons didn’t claim territories, but they were protective of the places where the demons of their lair resided.
Keenan pulled a flask out of his jacket that Knox knew was filled with vodka. The incubus was a heavy drinker, but since it didn’t affect his efficiency as a sentinel, Knox never called him on it. “Las Vegas is highly populated with demons,” the incubus pointed out. Demons liked bright lights, gambling, thrills, and adrenalin rushes. It made Last Vegas a popular place for their kind. “A perfect place to hunt strays.”
“The ones we spoke with are scared.” Larkin moved to the sofa beside the window. “Usually when there are crimes like this, you hear of at least one witness or one person who managed to avoid a kidnapping attempt. There’s been nothing like that. The strays that were taken weren’t weak in power, but they were easily taken.”
Knox leaned against his desk. “I have to wonder if Isla has something to do with it.”
Keenan frowned as he took a swig of his vodka. “Isla?”
“She’s been calling for changes that have been ignored up until recently. Those changes would offer strays protection. If they’re scared…”
“They’re more likely to listen to her,” finished Keenan.
“Exactly.” Demons didn’t have a global leader, they simply existed in lairs which were ruled by a Prime. The lairs weren’t organized into any kind of hierarchical structure. Demons only answered to their Primes. Isla, however, had suggested electing one of the Primes – more specifically, her – to rule above all the lairs of the U.S. For a long time, no one had listened to her. But now some demons were supporting her idea, and she’d found a true voice.
“Considering it’s rumored that she rents out her own demons to dark practitioners to use in their spells, I doubt she’ll have any qualms with plucking strays off the street,” said Larkin, toying with her long, brown braid.
“Why would Isla bother appealing for this?” Keenan shook his head. “We had a structure like that once, and it resulted in fucking chaos. Why ask to bring that back?”
“Power,” Larkin answered simply.
She was right. And there was always someone looking for power, control, and money. After so many years of being surrounded by such greed and calculation, everything had started to feel predictable, boring, and cold for Knox. Now a numbness was beginning to settle in for both him and his demon. “I had a call from Raul,” Knox told his sentinels. “He’s holding a conference on Saturday in Manhattan for every Prime of the U.S. to discuss the matter.” Raul’s lair spanned most of New York. “Personally, I think it’s best to have a formal discussion about it.”
“Do you think Isla has a chance of implementing any changes?” Keenan’s tone said that he didn’t believe so.
“I think she’s very cunning and calculated, and we shouldn’t underestimate her,” Knox told the incubus. “She-demons can be pretty ruthless.”
A grin played around the edges of Tanner’s mouth. “Speaking of ruthless she-demons, you might want to know that Kendra has got herself a boyfriend. She’s flaunting him like crazy, obviously hoping it will get a jealous reaction out of you.” And the hellhound seemed to find far too much enjoyment in that.
Inwardly, Knox groaned. “Last time we spoke, she promised me I’d regret letting her leave me and I would beg her to come back.”
Tanner laughed. “She sensed your demon lose interest?”
“Yes.” Story of Knox’s life. His demon could be very obsessive when fixated on a female, but it got bored so easily that the infatuation was always short-lived, leaving Knox to deal with a pissed-off female nursing a bruised ego.
Their inner demons couldn’t ‘care’ for others, but they could form attachments to people. When that happened, those attachments were incredibly intense, because every ounce of a demon’s natural intensity and focus was channeled into them. The only people his demon was attached to were his four sentinels. It obsessed over women it wanted, but it didn’t wish to ‘keep’ them, despite that it experienced the same loneliness that all inner demons were plagued by.
Knox snapped out of his thoughts as another knock was followed by the entrance of Levi; he’d clearly washed and changed. “You fought dirty, as always.”
Levi grinned. “There’s no other way to fight.”
“I think Mona’s up next,” said Larkin, looking out of the window. “Here comes the umpire.”
Speaking into a microphone which was wired to the speakerphones in Knox’s office, the gray-haired male announced, “There has been a change in the program. Due to Miss Wallis’ poor physical state at this time, she has been substituted—”
“Hold on, that’s not allowed!” insisted Mona as she suddenly stomped into the combat circle. “If a contender decides to pull out, it means their opponent automatically wins.”
“In many cases, yes, but Miss Wallis hasn’t decided to pull out. She’s been rendered unfit to duel. Miss Wallis is within her rights to select someone to replace her.”
The rage that flashed across Mona’s face told Knox that there was something very personal about this. But that wasn’t what had him stepping closer to the window. No, it was the sight of the dark-haired female now making her way into the circle. She was a petite thing. Five foot four inches tall at most. But there wasn’t anything delicate about her. Even through her neon orange t-shirt and jeans, he could tell that her body was sinuous and toned. She had a sinful flare to her hips – perfect for a guy to hold onto while he thrust in and out of her. “Who is that?”
“I’ve seen her around,” said Tanner. “But I’ve never seen her fight before. She’s a Wallis.”
“And a teensy little thing. I think Mona’s got this.” Larkin sounded disappointed, which was most likely because the harpy wasn’t a fan of Mona. Larkin wasn’t a fan of many people.
While it was true that Mona seemed to have the advantage in the duel, being that she was taller and quite powerful…“I wouldn’t be too sure of that,” said Knox. There was just something about the other she-demon; about the way she cocked her head as she ran her gaze over Mona. She was a predator searching for a weakness. No easy target. And he suddenly found himself…interested. Not much truly interested Knox anymore. It was a refreshing feeling.
“You think the little one has a chance of winning this?” asked Levi.
Yes, he did. The bell suddenly rang. “We’re about to find out.”
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Seeming to revel in the noise of the crowd, Mona tossed Harper a dismissive glance. “Joining me in this circle was a big mistake, Harper.” She said her name with utter distaste. Yeah, a lot of people felt that way. Why? Because Harper was known amongst her social circle for being the sphinx without wings. An oddity. An abnormality. Some people made the mistake of believing that made her easy prey. Mona was clearly one of them.303Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡSPlmsFV4ex
Harper simply taunted, “Prove it.”
With a smirk, Mona conjured an orb of hellfire – a standard ability that most demons had – and hurled it at Harper. Sharply stepping to the side, Harper dodged the orb. But in spite of the anger threatening to steal her self-control, she didn’t retaliate, which clearly puzzled Mona. What the harbinger didn’t realize was that Harper didn’t want to duel with her, she didn’t deem the bitch worthy of one. All Harper wanted was to get a grip on the dumb heifer.
Of course, she had abilities which would allow her to hurt Mona from a distance. But if she wanted to cause the harbinger real pain, she’d need to get her hands on her. Unfortunately, Mona seemingly intended to attack from afar. Harper needed to lure her close. That meant pissing her off – something which Harper was totally okay with. By nature, Harper was a reasonably collected person. But she had a temper that ran quick and hot. “You know, I can’t work out why you thought you’d get away with having your little friends attack Khloë,” sneered Harper. “Do you feel empty inside? I mean, like, in your skull?”
“Bitch,” hissed Mona. She launched one orb of hellfire after another; aiming for Harper’s head, chest, legs, and abdomen.
Harper evaded most of them, purposely allowing one to clip her shoulder and another to graze her leg. She didn’t want Mona to know how fast she was. She wanted Mona to be confident enough to come closer. “All this because Gael chose Khloë over you three years ago? Really? How pathetic.”
“He didn’t choose her. She lured him away.”
Khloë could control most minds, but she had too much self-respect to ever use the ability to get a guy who didn’t want her. “We both know that isn’t true. But even if it was, two wrongs don’t make a right. Your parents have proved that.”
Snarling, Mona conjured two orbs of hellfire and threw them simultaneously. Harper ducked, evading both. Lightning fast, she whipped a stiletto blade out of her boot, curving her hand around the ruby-red marble handle.
Mona laughed. “You think a little knife will save you?”
Ordinarily, probably not
“It’s almost cute.”
Harper sidestepped the orb of hellfire that flew her way. Conjuring orbs was something Harper had personally never been able to master. She could create hellfire, but she couldn’t shape it into anything. She could, however, do something else.
Generating hellfire in her left hand, Harper then infused it into the knife. Like that, the blade was aflame and totally lethal. Stilling, Mona gaped. For a brief moment, the crowd fell silent. They had all obviously assumed that the reason Harper wasn’t retaliating was that she didn’t have any offensive gifts to boast of – wrong.
Wearing a patronizing smile, Harper twirled her blade on her finger. “Personally, I think this beats orbs.” Because she could infuse hellfire into any object, making them instantly deadly. A blade. A pen. A hairclip. Anything. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think that was fear on your chimp-like face.”
Mona caught a dagger that one of her friends threw her and then launched herself at Harper – giving her exactly what she wanted. Harper evaded the sword, slashed Mona’s thigh, and then slammed her palm into Mona’s abdomen. Mona dropped to her knees, shuddering, with her mouth open in a silent scream of excruciating agony. It wasn’t because of the hellfire eating away at her flesh. No, it was because of something far worse.
The crowd once more turned quiet, no doubt confused as to why a mere slice and a single hit had taken Mona down.
Harper squatted in front of her. “No one fucks with my family. Go near any of them again, and this pain will seem like a fucking slap on the wrist. You got me?”
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Mona fell onto her side and curled into a fetal position, sobbing, just as the umpire dashed over. “What’s happening?” he asked.
Harper returned her blade to her boot. “She’s getting what she deserved.” With that, she strode out of the combat circle. It took a few minutes to squeeze through the cheering, congratulatory crowd before she reached her cousins near the exit of the dome.
Keeping in step with her, Khloë fanned her face. “I’m so happy, I could cry.”
Ciaran looked pissed. “I can’t believe the bitch sent her friends to—”
They halted as two demons suddenly planted themselves in front of them. The male was broad shouldered and dark-haired with golden eyes that made her think of a wolf. The female was tall, slender, and had a stunningly sleek braid hanging over her shoulder. Harper had seen them patrolling the Underground many times, knew exactly what they were – sentinels.
The male told Harper, “Mr. Thorne would like to talk to you.”
Fuck. “Oh yeah? I’m not really the chatty type.”
The female smiled, genuinely amused. “I’m sure you won’t mind sparing Mr. Thorne a few minutes.”
Well, actually, Harper did mind. Given everything she knew about Knox Thorne, the prospect of meeting him didn’t exactly fill her with joy – especially since there was a little something else about him that bugged their kind: no one seemed to know what breed of demon he was. Harper didn’t like blind spots. But it was vital to never show weakness to a predator, and backing away from the challenge in his sentinels’ eyes would definitely make her look weak. “Fine.”
“Just you,” the male said.
Harper inclined her head. “Wait at the Xpress bar,” she told her cousins. “I’ll be back soon.”
Without giving them a chance to object, she followed the two sentinels behind the dome and up a flight of stairs. When they finally stopped outside a door marked ‘Office’, the male rapped his knuckles on it. She could feel Knox’s power from there. It reached out, and encased the door almost protectively. When a shockingly sensual voice summoned them to enter, the male sentinel opened the door and signaled for her to enter. Then the two sentinels backed away and left her.
Inhaling deeply, Harper slipped inside…and found herself fighting the urge to stare in awe at the tall, imposing figure standing behind a glass desk. Deep-set dark eyes that matched the color of his hair locked on Harper, and the intensity there rocked her. Her body instantly responded. Molten lust licked at her, making her breasts ache, her nipples harden, and every inch of her skin suddenly feel hypersensitive. Well, shit.
All demons had natural sex appeal, and she’d heard that Knox’s effect was more potent than most, but Harper still hadn’t been prepared for the sheer impact of him. He radiated alpha energy, projected a raw sexual magnetism that would make any girl sensually starving. As she took in his bold stare, powerful stance, and air of self-possession, lots of words came to mind: Powerful. Forceful. Confident. Controlled. Dauntless. Determined.
Damn if it didn’t make him intimidating.
Refusing to buckle under the force of it all, Harper shut the door and waited. He said nothing. Didn’t greet her. Didn’t invite her to sit. Just stared at her with that dark, penetrating gaze that was sizing her up, and the atmosphere seemed to thicken with tension. But there was no chance that she would avert her eyes. This was a test of her strength, and she wasn’t prepared to fail it.
Finally, looking like he’d just stepped out of a GQ magazine, Knox slowly rounded the desk and walked towards her. No, walked wasn’t the right word. He breezed, glided – moved with an animal grace that demanded attention and could easily keep it.
Her inner demon froze, feeling threatened by this male that exuded danger. And he was dangerous – it was apparent in the way he moved, in his posture, in the tension coiled in his muscles that rippled beneath his black suit. She would bet that suit cost more than her entire wardrobe.
“I’m Knox Thorne.” He tilted his head, those dark eyes still locked on her. He was even more imposing up close. “And you are…?”
“Harper Wallis.” It worried her that he unnerved her demon, who was rarely rattled by anything. To Harper’s utter frustration, she couldn’t get a read on him, couldn’t identify what breed of demon he was. But every instinct she had told her to tread carefully; that she was in the presence of a very powerful predator.
“Harper Wallis.” He didn’t say her name, he tasted it. Tasted it with a voice that was like smoke, whiskey, and velvet. And Harper knew she’d be entertaining some seriously dirty fantasies about him later. She sure hoped he couldn’t read her thoughts – now, that would be embarrassing.
She wasn’t offended when he didn’t hold out his hand to shake hers. Demons were tactile, psychic, sexual creatures, but they were also very selective in who they gave permission to touch them. “Nice to meet you, I guess.” She didn’t sound at all genuine. And for some odd reason, that made his mouth curve into a crooked smile which caused her libido to do the fandango. Great.
We'll now, this she-demon had surprised him yet again.
When she’d walked into the room, her eyes – glassy, reflective, much like that of a cat – had been the color of warm honey. But as Knox had moved to stand in front of her, the honey had begun to swirl like liquid, fading into an entrancing misty gray. He had the feeling it wouldn’t be long before the color changed again, and he was intrigued as to just what color that would be intrigued.
A simple feeling, but not one he’d experienced for a while until he’d caught a glimpse of this she-demon in the combat circle. Her facial features were soft and feminine. Except for that mouth. Plush, glossy, and a tempting cherry shade, it was straight out of his fantasies. He could imagine sliding his cock between those lips while knotting his hands in that sleek, dark hair that was tipped with gold.
His inner demon had perked up the moment she entered the office, going from bored to alert in an instant. It liked pretty, shiny, unique things, and that was exactly what Harper was. “How are your injuries?”
Harper rotated her shoulder. “All right.” The wounds had mostly healed, but they still stung like a motherfucker. Demons were invulnerable to normal fire. Hellfire, however, could cause serious harm. The flames of hell, on the other hand, could turn someone into ashes on the spot. And it was just possible that the guy in the room with her could call on them. Fate was mostly likely laughing its ass off.
“If you’re a Wallis, you must be from the North Las Vegas lair.” At her nod, Knox added, “How closely related are you to Jolene?”
As he took a small yet prowling step closer, Harper’s demon tensed even further. “She’s my grandmother.” In addition to being the Prime of her lair, Jolene Wallis was a hard-assed bitch. She was also thirty levels of batshit crazy and had been known to reduce entire buildings to rubble when in a foul mood…though Jolene preferred the term ‘demolition expert.’
“I have a loose alliance with Jolene.” Knox had always liked imps. Why? Because you knew where you stood with an imp. You knew that they would rob you blind if you were dumb enough to not pay attention. You knew you would only get the right answers if you asked the right questions. And you knew that expecting obedience from them would be an exercise in frustration. But having Harper so close, filling every one of his senses, he realized…“You’re not an imp.” He wasn’t sure what she was. The Wallis family was pretty notorious, and he’d assumed they were all imps.
“No, I’m not,” Harper confirmed, impressed that he’d sensed it.
Knox felt an unexpected tingle of amusement at her typical imp response – vague and evasive. Apparently she was, for all intents and purposes, an imp. “Sit,” he invited, gesturing to the chair opposite his. Before taking it, her unusual eyes did a quick sweep of the room. And he knew that, in that small moment, she had assessed what was of value, the most likely places for a safe to be positioned, and every possible exit. It would be instinctive for a Wallis.
He noticed that she didn’t make a sound as she moved – another imp trait she had mastered, despite not being one of them. “What are you?”
Watching as he melted into his chair, she parried, “What are you?”
Oh, that little bit of fire made his demon chuckle. Like Knox, it didn’t have much time or respect for weak, frightened little lambs. This female clearly wasn’t easily intimidated. He could have pushed the matter, but he found that he liked the idea of watching her, studying her, and solving the mystery for himself.
Harper was surprised to see his mouth twitch in amusement, since she’d expected anger. Knox Thorne made her think of a jungle cat that was choosing to behave for now but whose mood could change at any given moment. Regardless of that, she was stupidly wondering if his short, ebony hair was as silky as it looked. Yeah, well, she’d never been all that smart.
Seeing that the huge window offered a perfect view of the combat circle, Harper guessed he’d watched her duel with his she-demon. “Look, if this is about Mona, she got what she deserved.”
“And what is it exactly that she ‘got’?” No answer. “Your touch can cause soul-deep pain,” Knox guessed. A rare ability.
“Very good.” It had always been effortless for Harper to do it. Whenever she felt angry, threatened, or frightened, a dark protective power instinctively built inside her and rushed to her fingertips, making them prickle. As a child, it hadn’t been easy to control. Now that she was an adult, she was able to push the power back down if necessary.
He drummed his fingers on the desk. “If you believe she deserved soul-deep pain, I’m assuming Mona did something I need to know about. Tell me.”
Be a tattletale who whined to people’s Primes? “No.”
“No?” Knox echoed with disbelief.
Evidently, he wasn’t denied things often. Well, Harper did like to introduce people to new experiences. It was more of a calling, really. The air chilled as his eyes very briefly bled to black, communicating his inner demon’s displeasure at being refused; hell reigned in those dark pools. A frisson of apprehension tingled down her spine.
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