Khloé put a hand to her stomach. “I say we both go throw up first.”
Her brother pursed his lips. “Sound idea.”
*
Slurping her mango smoothie, Khloé glanced out the window that overlooked the Underground. The place was busy twenty-four/ seven, and this part of the strip got a lot of foot-traffic due to it being close to the mall and the most popular eateries and bars. “No sign of Harper and Devon yet,” she told Raini.
It had become their ritual for all four women to meet at the coffeehouse before work, since their tattoo studio was located next door. Whoever arrived first at the coffeehouse often bought drinks for the others to save them having to wait in the long-ass queue.
Around them, voices murmured, machines hummed, and dishware clattered. The delicious scents of fresh pastries, coffee beans, and vanilla filled the air.
“They’ll be here soon,” said Raini. “I hope they bring Asher. I haven’t seen him in over a week. I miss my little dude. Is he or is he not the most adorable thing ever?”
“Totally. And he cracks me up.”
Demonic children were more advanced than humans, so the eighteen-month-old could talk a little and had excellent balance. He also had a very firm grip on his abilities—some of which were seriously impressive. But if he were her kid, it would make her a little nervous that such a high concentration of power lived within him. There was a current rumor going around that he could conjure the flames of hell, though she had no idea where it came from.
“God, my head is killing me. I don’t get why they call it a hangover,” said Raini, rubbing her temple. “Shouldn’t it be called, like, a drunk-over? I don’t see where the ‘hang’ part comes in.”
Bracing her elbows on the bistro table, Khloé slanted her head. “You know, I’m annoyed that that didn’t occur to me before now.”
“I feel bad for humans. Demons rarely get hangovers; ours never last long. But humans, well, that’s a whole other story.” Raini sipped at her coffee. “From now on, we should call this circle-of-hell state either a drunk-over or a blitzed-over.”
“I vote for the latter.”
“Then it is done.”
Khloé gave a curt nod. Spotting a familiar figure walk by, she frowned. “On another note … I can’t help but notice that members of Maddox’s lair seem to pass by us a lot these days.”
Raini turned stiff as a board. “They do, don’t they?” she clipped.
Maddox Quentin was not only a local Prime, he was Raini’s anchor. All demons had predestined psychic mates that were often referred to as anchors. When they fused their psyches together, they created an unbreakable link that gave each other the strength, stability, and power to maintain dominance over their inner entity—meaning they would never turn rogue.
Although the anchor bond wasn’t emotional, anchors were exceedingly loyal to one another and often became close friends. They also supported and protected each other. They trusted each other more than they trusted their Primes, partners, and friends. Sometimes anchors were a little too protective, not to mention notoriously possessive—even if the latter was only on a platonic level.
Raini and Maddox had first met at his club, the Damned, when her lair was searching for information on who’d tried to have Devon kidnapped. In fact, Devon had originally thought he might have brokered the deal—he was known for doing such things.
Given that Maddox was also rumored to be a somewhat pitiless, unremorseful demon who possessed very few ethics, it was little wonder that Raini was disappointed to have him as an anchor. He was a “descendant,” a breed of demon that came into being after The Fallen mated with demons and created something darker than dark. They were a secretive, inclusive bunch who never permitted anyone outside of their own breed to join their lairs.
Raini and Maddox hadn’t formed the anchor bond, and it didn’t seem as if either party wanted to. But he didn’t seem inclined to leave her alone. He telepathed her often, even though she never responded to him. But she hadn’t been clear to anyone on just what he said when he contacted her.
“Do you think he has people subtly watching over you?” Khloé asked.
Raini gave a haughty shrug. “Don’t know, don’t care.”
Yes, she did. Anyone who knew the succubus well could sense that it was getting to her. “Has he said anything to indicate he wants the anchor bond?”
“No. He mostly just telepathically checks-in to see if I’m fine, even though I never answer.” Raini sighed. “He was supposed to get bored and leave me alone.”
Khloé could recall the moment that Maddox and Raini discovered they were anchors; could remember how his shock had quickly been replaced by a dark, proprietary look. “I know from experience that the pull of the anchor bond is seriously strong. He’s probably having a hard time fighting it. Aren’t you?”