Devon took in a long breath through her nose. “I’ll work on it. I promise.”
“Good.” Wanting to lighten the mood, Tanner added, “Now that you’ve got regular access to superior sperm, I can’t see pregnancy being a problem.”
A laugh bubbled out of her. “Did you honestly just say that?”
“Well, you have.” He brushed his nose over hers. “So, what time are you moving your stuff in here tomorrow?”
She sighed. “Tanner, seriously, would it kill you to ask me to move in instead of making presumptions? I mean, if I tried telling you what—”
“Okay, okay, so that didn’t come out right. Look, I’m not always going to phrase things in a way you like. I’ve been a sentinel for centuries, I’m used to issuing orders and being direct about what I want. It doesn’t mean I see myself as in command of you. You’re my equal, my match, and I respect the hell out of your strength. I don’t want to control you. But it’s in my nature to take control of situations.”
That made Devon’s hackles lower, because she knew he was right. There was no sense in viewing his take-charge demeanor as a sign of disrespect.
“I want you to move in. I like starting my day with you right here. I like that the first words you’ll hear will be mine. So, will you please give me that?”
Quite frankly impressed he’d asked her so politely, she said, “Yes, I’d like that. Happy now?”
He hummed. “Ecstatic. And I’m positive you’re just as happy right now. I mean, we both know your heart has longed for this since the day you met me. Longed and pined and yearned. All that emotion you’ve been trying to hide—” He laughed when she hit him with a pillow. “I’m feeling the love, kitten. I’m seeing it right there in those pretty green—Shit! Do you always have to go for my eyes?”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Standing in the VIP glass box of the hellhound racing stadium a few evenings later, Devon put a hand to her fluttering stomach. Floodlights illuminated the large oval dirt track that had just been prepped for the next race—one in which Tanner’s hound would partake.
She turned to face the girls and Keenan, who were relaxing on the row of leather seats. “God, I’m so nervous.”
An announcement was made over the intercom only moments ago, informing the spectators that the race would soon begin. Lots of people milled about the tiered grandstands, private boxes, and spectator area overlooking the track. Gambling addicts often frequented the place, but they weren’t the only attendees. There were also couples on dates, clusters of women having a girls’ night out, and even groups of men casually discussing business ventures.
“Tanner’s hound will be fine,” Harper assured her, perched on the edge of the seat directly beneath the ceiling fan. “It always is.”
“Yeah, and if hellhound racing wasn’t so brutal and rife with cheating, vicious motherfuckers, I’d be a lot less tense.”
“You’ve been edgy all day,” said Khloë, slurping on her soda and pointedly ignoring that Keenan—who was on bodyguard duty—was frowning at her.
“People keep looking at me.” Devon scratched at her arm. “I don’t like it.” Which was why she was glad to be in the private box. It was sweet with its comfy seating, multiple TV screens, floor to ceiling view, and personal server who came and went.
Raini smiled, dipping a nacho in the cheese dip. “Well of course you keep getting funny looks. It’s not every day that a hellhound claims a hellcat, is it?”
No, it wasn’t. Tanner had instructed members of his lair’s Force to pass on the news, so it hadn’t been long before it became widespread. And it was clear to see that most were stunned.
Harper and Raini had been just as shocked when she told them. Khloë, however, had nodded and said, “I knew the canine would pull his head out of his ass sooner or later, now where’re the donuts?”
If the girls had possessed Devon’s sense of smell, they’d also know that she now wore his scent on her skin. Literally. The smell of Tanner was faint, but it was there, and no amount of soap would wash it away. That kind of thing happened sometimes with demons, but only when they were intimate on more than one level. That was why her scent was now embedded into his.
“Your feline is definitely okay with this?” asked Raini.
“Very okay with it, which surprises me. It wasn’t so long ago that it was directing lazy snarls his way. There was no aggression or malice in them. Just plain exasperation.” Devon’s brows lowered. “Now it’s sort of smug. But not smug that it has a mate. It’s something else, I’m just not understanding it.”
“Huh.” Harper twisted her mouth. “You don’t think your feline was testing him, do you?”