Damn, his testosterone levels had to be through the roof.
Oh, had she mentioned that she hated him? Okay, that wasn’t entirely true. She wanted to hate him. Technically, it should have been easy, considering he latched onto any opportunity to stomp on her hot buttons. He could also be a pushy bastard. A little self-centered and arrogant in a way that skated the edge of assholeness. Which should have been a major turn-off. It wasn’t. She couldn’t help but respect that he was so supremely comfortable in his own skin that he didn’t change his behavior to please others.
He was also currently involved with a female hellhound who’d paid Devon an unexpected visit to—in the nicest possible way—warn her to keep her distance from him. Devon had—in the bitchiest possible way—told Eleanor Owens to fuck right off.
The memory had her grinding her teeth. As a rule, Devon didn’t really do jealousy. She felt the occasional twinge of envy here and there, but she was never bitter if someone had something that she wanted … until now.
If her attraction to him was just about his looks, she could have ignored it easily enough. But it was more than that. She admired his depth of loyalty, his dedication to his role of sentinel, and how protective he was of those who mattered to him. And yeah, okay, she was as turned-on by his alpha ways as she was annoyed by them.
Although he could irritate her like no one else, he was one of the few people she trusted. Tanner Cole was not a person who let people down or who took their trust for granted. He was solid. Reliable. Brimmed with integrity. All that drew her like a magnet.
Right then, his attention settled over Devon like there was no one else in the room. He didn’t give her his usual teasing smile. It wasn’t hard to tell that he was a very unhappy bunny. A barely leashed anger seemed to ripple the air around him.
His gaze heated as it boldly raked over her with a hint of possession that made her bristle. Those eyes were like deep pools of liquid gold. They dug their way under your skin and made you feel exposed.
He prowled toward her, moving with the ease and calmness of a man who knew he could dispatch any threat without breaking a sweat. A man who made things happen. A man who was in control of his own destiny.
Flexing its claws, her feline gave him its usual snarl … just because.
Devon swallowed hard as he stepped into her personal space. Every inch of his skin seemed to hum with the sheer power that lived within him, as if it were barely contained. When she was close, it whispered over her own skin and called to the power that lived inside her.
Sexual tension charged the air, making the hairs on her nape stand up. It was always like that between them. The dazing sexual chemistry was as visceral as it was electric. There was no fighting it. All she’d ever been able to do was channel it; give it an outlet through their constant conflict.
She suspected that part of the appeal for them both was that, due to their demons’ aversion to each other, she and Tanner were each other’s forbidden fruit. Demons were all about instant gratification, and they didn’t like being denied what they wanted.
He lifted her arm and examined the chafing on her wrists. A dark growl rattled his chest. “Where else are you hurt, kitten?”
God, his voice … He could say a perfectly inane sentence with that deep, low-pitched, masculine rumble and she’d still be instantly hot for him. It wasn’t just his voice that enticed her, it was the way he spoke with calm, assertion, and authority. There was often a punch of command there that made it even hotter.
“She has a little chafing on her ankles too, but not quite as bad,” said Jolene.
Tanner’s eyes slammed on the Prime. “Do you have any idea who might have sent someone after her?”
“We will when we speak to the men who work for the broker that arranged the deal. My sentinels are waiting at the cabin for them to show,” Jolene told him.
Harper plonked herself on a stool. “Give me the whole story. I want every little detail.”
*
Listening intently as the Prime relayed what happened, Tanner found himself clenching his teeth so hard his jaw ached. Fury rushed through him, making his blood boil, tightening every muscle until they hurt; it was difficult to keep his grip on Devon’s wrist gentle.
Some fucker had taken her, bound her, used magick on her, marked her flesh. The urge to hunt and kill the son of a bitch was a drumbeat in his veins and battered at his composure.
Knox’s mind slid against his. You’re growling.