She snorted. “Our kinds hate each other. There’s no way your demon would offer its protection to a hellcat.”
“It’s pissed about what happened to you. It wants to avenge you.”
“Yeah,” she drawled, all skepticism. “Right.”
Tanner didn’t blame her for doubting him. “I can prove it.” He tightened his grip when she tried snatching her hand back. “If you really don’t believe me, where’s the harm in letting me try?”
Looking bored, she took another sip of her drink. “Even if it did work—which it absolutely would not—no one would buy that the mark was real. They’d think it was a tattoo.”
“A closer look would be enough to tell them that they’re wrong.” The mark would be nothing more than a small, innocuous-looking symbol in the center of her palm, but it would also glisten and smell of him—something no tattoo would do. Better still, it would glow whenever she was in danger and psychically alert him that she needed help, no matter how far apart they were. “You don’t need to worry that being marked would hurt. It might sting a little, but that’s all.”
“My demon would view any pain from you as an attack. It’d rise and retaliate.”
“No, it wouldn’t. It can sense that I won’t hurt you.” Tanner breezed his thumb over her palm again. “Tell me the truth, kitten, why does the idea of being marked by me bother you so much?”
“Who wouldn’t it bother? Hellhounds are insanely proprietary over whatever they mark, which is why Knox didn’t want you to leave one on Harper—she told me.”
He gave a slow nod. “And you don’t like possessiveness. But it’s more than that, isn’t it? You feel that accepting my protection will be like surrendering to me in some sense. It won’t, kitten. It won’t be a show of weakness.” He gave her hand a little squeeze. “Come on, put your money where your mouth is; let me try to mark you.”
She heaved a sigh of sheer exasperation. “Why bother? You know it won’t work.”
“If you’re so convinced of that, let me try.”
“Will you leave if I do?”
“Sure.”
Sighing again, she shrugged and put down her mug. “Knock yourself out, I guess.” Devon almost snickered at the triumphant look on his face. God, he truly was delusional if he thought this would work. He linked his fingers with hers and dug his thumb into the center of her palm. Nothing happened, just as she’d known it wouldn’t.
Devon smirked. “See? You should have listened to—” Power, hot and raw, zapped her skin and scorched it like a branding iron. Sting, my ass. It goddamn burned. She tried snatching her hand from his, but he held tight. That was when her inner demon charged to the surface.
Tanner tensed when Devon’s eyes bled to black and the room temperature lowered. Her demon didn’t attack, didn’t struggle, but it held razor-sharp claws to his throat in warning. He didn’t flinch, didn’t pull back. “She’s safe with me,” he told it, knowing it would fully understand every word. “I’d never hurt her. You can sense that, or you would have slit my throat instantly.”
It narrowed its eyes and pressed its claws closer to his flesh—it wanted him to let Devon go, and this was apparently his final warning.
“People could come for her,” he said. “We both want her safe, so let’s call a truce and work together to make that happen.”
An image flashed in his mind—an image of Devon kicking the ass of a faceless foe, her eyes totally black. Tanner nodded at the wordless telepathic message. “Yes, I know she has you. I know you can protect her. But being powerful isn’t always enough. I just want her to have my help in case she does need it.”
The demon didn’t react, didn’t pull back its claws. Just stared at him.
Tanner felt his jaw tighten. “You might not like or trust my kind, but you do trust that I’d never harm her.” Still no reaction. And he sensed that only the truth would get him what he wanted. “She’s important to me. Let me help you keep her safe.”
Long moments of silence ticked by, winding him tight. Then the feline lost some of its tension and slowly retracted its claws. It gave a slow nod, and another image flashed in his mind—one of him and the hellcat standing side by side while Devon stood behind them. Understanding the feline was agreeing that they could work together to protect her, he inclined his head.
The demon then subsided, and piercing green eyes met his. Devon, seeming somewhat stunned, looked down at her palm. There, as if they’d been stamped onto her skin, were three, black, very small tribal-like lines set into a thin circle. The same mark was featured on the gates of hell—the brand of a hellhound.
Satisfaction settled over Tanner. He took an easy breath for what felt like the first time in days. She was marked now. Was officially under his protection. Wore his scent on her skin. He’d feel it if she was ever in danger. All that gratified him on a very primal level. He couldn’t have her for himself, but he could ensure she was safe.