Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 118374 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 592(@200wpm)___ 473(@250wpm)___ 395(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118374 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 592(@200wpm)___ 473(@250wpm)___ 395(@300wpm)
“There, done,” he said. “Does it hurt?”
Shocked to the bone, Devon closed her hand. “It’s fine.” Proud that her voice came out strong and steady, she gave herself a mental pat on the back. “How the … I don’t understand.”
“I told you, my hound considers you under its protection.”
Devon would never have believed that. Never. But the proof was right there on her palm.
Totally thrown, she raked her hand through her hair. Surely her feline should be raging that a hellhound had marked Devon. Surely it should be hissing, snarling, and raring to strike out at him. It wasn’t. It also wasn’t convinced that his help was needed or that he wouldn’t withdraw his protection at some point, but it saw him as a valuable ally. It intended to use him for as long as he was available. Cold, sure, but that was how the entity operated.
Devon suspected her demon would work with anyone if it would keep her safe. Why? Because it had never forgotten how utterly helpless it had felt while unable to free six-year-old Devon from the magickly warded car. Had never forgotten how close she’d come to dying right along with the infant in the car seat.
It wasn’t that the entity was haunted by regret or guilt—it couldn’t feel such emotions. But it resented that it had been unable to protect Devon. Was embittered by the powerlessness and sense of failure it had felt. The demon didn’t intend to experience such things ever again. And if working alongside a hellhound would help ensure that, the feline would do it.
Devon, however, wasn’t so at ease with the idea. She wrenched her hand free, cursing beneath her breath. If she’d thought for one second that he’d be able to mark her, she’d never have agreed to let him try. She didn’t want to wear his goddamn brand. But there’d be no washing it off, no tattooing over it, no ridding his scent from that spot on her skin. It wouldn’t fade until either he or his demon withdrew their protection. And now she was livid. Livid with herself, with him, with his motherfucking hound.
“I don’t need or want your protection,” she ground out.
“Too fucking bad—you have it.” There was no heat in his voice, just a firm resolve. “I told you before, it’s not weak to accept someone’s protection, kitten. Hell, I’ve never met a more powerful demon than Knox in all my existence, and he has a damn bodyguard, because it’s just plain smart.”
She couldn’t deny that, which was seriously fucking annoying. “It makes no sense to me that your demon would offer a hellcat its protection. I mean, I can see it not wanting me to be harmed purely because I’m a close friend of your Prime—if someone hurt me, it would hurt Harper, and your hound wouldn’t want that for her. Is that what this is?”
He shook his head. “This isn’t about Harper. It’s about you.”
She snickered. “You truly trust that your hound would protect me if need be? Because I sure don’t.”
His eyes bled to black, and a disgruntled growl vibrated in the demon’s chest. The room temperature instantly plummeted, and goosebumps swept across her skin. Shit.
Obsidian eyes stared down at her—cold, hard, and so empty of emotion they were like black voids of nothingness. Really, it was like being caught in the gaze of a cobra, and it sent a tingle of fear skittering down her spine. Apparently, the entity didn’t like that she’d questioned its integrity.
Her inner feline surged close to the surface, watching it closely, prepared to defend her if necessary. But Devon didn’t give an inch to the feline; she intended to remain in control and show the hound that she didn’t need her own demon’s protection. Intended to make it understand that she could face it herself just fine. So, even though she felt chilled all the way to her soul by that unwavering, reptilian glare, she didn’t once look away.
It tilted its head slightly. Assessing her, she thought. It seemed confused, and she wondered if it had expected her to cower and behave like prey purely because it considered all hellcats to be exactly that.
Just to drive home that she was nobody’s prey, Devon raised a sardonic brow. “You done staring at me, Fido?”
Another growl vibrated in its chest. Something flashed in those dark eyes. Something that might have been approval, but it was gone too quick for her to be sure. Then the demon did a slow blink, and she was once more looking into a pair of golden eyes.
“You’re a ballsy little thing, aren’t you?” Tanner took her hand and stroked her palm with his thumb, his face lazy with satisfaction as he stared at the mark. She didn’t like that satisfaction at all.
Devon jutted out her chin. “Just to be clear, this mark is only that—a mark. It’s for show. A deterrent to the people who might mean me harm. I don’t care how territorial it incidentally makes you feel, it gives you no rights to me. None. Is that understood, pooch?” She expected a growl, a frown, some sign of annoyance. Instead, his mouth ever so slowly curved.