“Baby?” echoed Teague. He snickered. “Oh yeah, I heard that you two are dating,” he said, going for nonchalant, as if not wanting Keenan to know just how much it got to him.
“You heard right.”
“It’s … nice that she’ll have you around to protect her if need be.”
Yeah? Teague didn’t sound like he thought it was nice.
“But there’s no need for you to be around her so much anymore,” the hellhorse went on. “I’m here now.”
“That doesn’t fill me with confidence. You don’t exactly have a good track record of keeping her safe.”
Teague rumbled a growl and stood. “You son of a bitch.”
Keenan shrugged. “It’s only the truth. She’s a magnet for trouble. And if she’s not attracting it, she’s causing it—most of the time, she does it on purpose. I’ve pulled her out of far more scrapes than you have.”
Khloé rolled her eyes. “Ugh, can you two not engage in one of your dick-measuring contests again? I mean, I know hell-horses are naturally extremely well endowed, but Keenan has one monster—”
“Stop,” both he and Teague said.
She just shrugged.
Keenan cut his gaze back to Teague. “I get that you don’t want me in her life—you made that clear a long time ago. But I’m not going anywhere. You can support her in this, or you can just stay out of it and give me and Khloé a chance to make this work. But what you won’t do is give her grief over this. She’s got enough to deal with. She doesn’t need any more shit being thrown at her, especially not from her anchor.”
Teague watched him closely, seeming … impressed. “I never intended to give Khloé grief. But you? Yeah, I’ll give it to you when I’m in the mood.”
“Knock yourself out.” Because Keenan couldn’t care less.
Teague’s phone buzzed. He pulled it out of his pocket and looked at the screen. Cursing, he turned to Khloé. “There’s something I need to take care of. If you need me for anything, call me and I’ll come straight to you. Okay?”
“Okay,” she replied, pushing to her feet.
Teague pulled her into a tight hug. Keenan’s chest burned and ached like a bitch. He couldn’t even say the hellhorse was doing it to get a rise out of him. No, it was a genuine display of affection. Teague might be an ass, but he cared for her.
Pain spiked along Keenan’s jaw from how hard he was clenching his teeth. Seeing another man’s hands on her was hard enough. But seeing her looking so relaxed in said man’s arms, her affection for him clear on her face, made it hurt for Keenan to breathe … as if his ribcage was too tight.
Fairly vibrating with the same black jealousy, his inner demon seethed. It had never despised anyone as much as it did Teague in that moment.
The only reason the entity hadn’t surfaced to attack the other male was that, as Khloé’s anchor, Teague’s death would cause her actual physical pain—a pain that could even become chronic. The demon would never do anything that would bring her harm.
Pulling back, Teague stroked her hair away from her face. “You take care of yourself.”
She saluted him. “Will do.”
Snorting, he let her go. Only then did Keenan’s demon stop pacing. Teague shot him a narrow-eyed look as he passed. Like Keenan could give a fuck.
Khloé sighed. “I want a donut.”
Keenan blinked. She could be so random, but he found he liked that. He held out his hand. “Then let’s go get you a donut. After that, we’ll have dinner.”
“Where?” she asked, taking his hand.
“Wherever you want to go.”
*
Meandering around Keenan’s living room later on, Khloé said, “I just knew your place would be swanky.” It was all style and luxury with the elegant décor, the quality furnishings, the ridiculously wide TV, and the high windows that provided a truly great view. The layout seemed very similar to Tanner’s apartment. Oh, how the other half lived.
Standing near the doorway, Keenan frowned. “Swanky? Is that a compliment, or a criticism?”
“Neither. Simply an observation. I like it.” It wasn’t the stylishness that gave it her tick of approval, though, it was the cleanliness. That ticked Khloé’s acceptability box.
“Then why are you making that face?”
“I’m just surprised that you don’t have any antiques. I mean, you’ve been on this earth a long time. I figured you’d have kept some pieces of furniture.”
“I never developed an attachment to any of it.”
She got the sense that Keenan rarely developed attachments to anything or anyone. Knox owned quite a few antiques which, according to Harper, he’d collected over the centuries. But the male Prime was a demon who liked to own and possess things.
“How many rooms do you have?” she asked.
Stalking toward her, Keenan replied, “Aside from this one, there’s the kitchen/dining area, the master bedroom, the office, the workout room, and the spare bedroom.” He tilted his head. “Want a drink?”