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)
For the first time, she wished her anchor bond was emotionally invasive. To have her mind so strongly linked to someone else’s yet be unable to reach out to them … Fuck if that wasn’t shitter than shit at the moment.
All demons had a predestined psychic mate who anchored them, preventing them from turning rogue—something they were all at risk of doing, considering how much of a struggle it could be to maintain dominance over the cruel entity that lived within them. There was nothing sexual or emotional about the bond. It was only a psychic construct, but demons still struggled to be apart from their anchors for long periods of time.
Devon was incredibly close to her anchor—so close, in fact, that Adam and his partner, Hunter, had switched to her lair six years ago. Both guys were uber protective of her, and they’d lose their shit if they could see her right now.
“Had enough pain?” Psycho Stanley asked.
Sensing he thought he’d scared her, Devon couldn’t help it—she laughed. It was a slow, raspy sound that built until her shoulders shook.
His gaze flared. “Something funny?”
“I was just thinking how much of a mistake you made taking this job. It won’t matter how strong you are or how carefully you covered your tracks. My disappearance will be traced back to you, and then you’ll pay for this.”
“No one can trace me.”
“Not even a hellhound?” she challenged. “One of Knox’s sentinels is a hellhound. He’ll find you.”
“I assume you’re referring to Tanner Cole. Are you forgetting he’s also Harper’s bodyguard? Knox is hardly going to send him on a mission to find a she-demon who isn’t even from his lair. His mate’s safety is far too important to him.”
“Yeah, but Tanner considers me under his protection.” Which annoyed her, in all honesty, but that wasn’t something she needed to share with this asshole.
“If that were true, you’d carry his mark. I bound your hands earlier. If you bore his mark, I’d have seen it.”
Because hellhounds left their brand in the center of a person’s palm. They could only mark someone if both halves of their soul wanted to protect that person. Tanner might be protective of her, but his inner demon wasn’t—hellcats and hellhounds had a natural aversion to one another.
That was okay, though; she didn’t need or want Tanner’s protection. Didn’t want his attention either. But the devastatingly hot hellhound seemed intent on driving her insane. Each time his mind touched hers, he whispered teasing comments to her …
How’s my little kitty cat?
Missing me?
Need any cat litter while I’m at the store?
I picked you up some balls of yarn—you owe me, kitten.
She’d been dealing with that shit for years. In the beginning, her inner demon had hissed and spat, outraged by his psychic touch merely because he was a hellhound, its natural enemy. Nowadays, the feline merely curled its upper lip in a lazy snarl. The demon no longer felt compelled to rip out his lungs, since it was relatively certain that he meant Devon no harm.
“You still haven’t answered my question, hellcat. What. Is. Knox?”
“Well …” The ropes winked out, freeing her. The blood rushed back to her fingers and toes, and it hurt like a motherfucker. Ignoring the pain, Devon acted fast. She released her hold on the dark power that waited to attack. As smooth, fluid, and fierce as a wildcat, it lunged at him, encased his entire body, and seized him in a crushing vice-like grip.
Eyes wide, jaw tense, he drew in a shocked breath. Before he could even think of retaliating, the power squeezed and contracted around him like a snake, exerting more and more pressure on his body and insides. He yelled in agony as bones cracked, veins popped, and skin split.
Her demon’s grin was somewhat feral as it observed the nauseating sight he made. The whites of his eyes had reddened, blood was leaking from his ears and mouth, and broken bones were protruding through his skin. Merciless, the power kept on squeezing and crushing him until, finally, his brain exploded inside his skull and he toppled off the stool. Like that, the vapor dissipated.
Devon pushed off the chair and strode toward him, rolling her stiff shoulders and examining the chafed skin of her wrists. Bastard. She looked down at where he lay, his bloodshot eyes open and vacant, his body an unholy mess. He’d suffered excruciating pain—there was no doubt about it. And she couldn’t find it in herself to give a rat’s ass.
“Told you that you made a mistake when you took this job. People never listen to me. Why is that?” She tossed a high-voltage ball of hellfire at the little bastard and didn’t move from the spot until he was nothing more than mere ashes. Satisfied, she nodded. Now where the fuck was the phone?