Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 127527 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 638(@200wpm)___ 510(@250wpm)___ 425(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127527 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 638(@200wpm)___ 510(@250wpm)___ 425(@300wpm)
“Some people don’t like to lie,” explained Leo.
Archer tilted his head, making his short dark ponytail tip to the side. “But why?”
Leo shrugged. “I don’t know. They just don’t.”
Teague leaned back in his chair. “Look, you don’t need to worry. It’s a fake relationship, so our personal lives will remain separate to the same extent they do now. I’ll never bring her here. I’ll never introduce her to any of you. I’ll never let anything slip that could tip her off. Knox Thorne will therefore remain in the dark.”
Gideon sighed. “I hope you’re right. Because he’ll want us dead for sure. I’d rather we didn’t have to go head-to-head with him.”
“It won’t come to that.” Teague lightly stroked his throat, which was no longer burning, and found that the blisters were gone. “Now, unless anyone has any other questions, I say we get on with our evening.”
When no one threw out any queries, Gideon perked up a little and asked, “Does this mean we can get back to celebrating my birthday?”
Teague felt compelled to point out . . . “It isn’t actually your birthday for another seven months.”
“I want to celebrate it early this year.” Gideon stood. “So, you up for it?”
Teague gave a slight shrug. “Yeah, sure, why not?”
Hearing the door to Knox’s main office in the Underground creak open the next morning, Larkin glanced away from her laptop. He, Tanner, Levi, and Keenan all breezed inside, all slow and casual. They offered her their usual soft smiles or tips of the chin, acting no different than they normally did.
All right.
“Morning,” she briefly bid before returning her attention to her laptop screen. She had a designated desk, but she much preferred doing as she’d done this morning and curling up on one of the two cozy armchairs. They were upholstered with black, butter-soft Italian leather, just like the sofa and desk chairs.
Larkin always chose this particular seat because it was positioned near the large window that overlooked the combat circle, where Levi often fought. Observing bloodthirsty duels was something that both she and her inner demon found somewhat relaxing.
The sleek, modern office was spacious enough to provide workspace for each of the sentinels as well as Knox, though no one’s desk was quite as big as his. The surface of the swanky, executive monstrosity was neat as a pin despite being crowded. The hi-tech, three-screened computer sat on its center, flanked by stationery and papers and other office devices.
Skimming through yet another report from a member of their Force, Larkin didn’t look up when she sensed her fellow sentinels crowd her chair.
Keenan cleared his throat and then placed something on the armrest.
Recognizing the logo on the box, Larkin didn’t need to open it to know that a cupcake would be inside. He’d apparently ventured to her favorite Underground bakery.
“Peace offering,” he told her.
Larkin swept her gaze over the three faces staring down at her, taking in their soft expressions that held a hint of sheepishness. No, she realized, this wasn’t really a peace offering. Just as their sheepishness wasn’t truly genuine. They merely wanted her to relax and lower her guard so that she’d more easily answer their questions.
She’d seen them use this trick before on others, particularly during interrogations. She was offended that they evidently thought she wouldn’t notice they were now attempting to use it on her.
Idiots.
Tanner slipped his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “We shouldn’t have reacted the way we did yesterday. We were out of line.”
Levi nodded. “Your news took us by surprise, and we handled it wrong.”
“If Teague is who you really want, we’ll support you,” said Keenan.
It took everything Larkin had not to snort. They would never behave so reasonably at the idea of her being with someone who had Teague’s reputation. So their current behavior meant one thing only—they very strongly suspected that her claim was pure bullshit.
She cut her gaze to Knox. He was leaning back in his desk chair, speaking quietly into his phone, but his eyes were on her. And those dark orbs held a smidgeon of skepticism. He didn’t believe her either, but he’d apparently decided not to question her.
She wasn’t worried that she wouldn’t be able to convince them they were wrong. Larkin had been deceiving them for years, and they hadn’t noticed. She’d lied every time she told them that she was ‘over’ what her anchor had done; that she didn’t feel the call of the bond anymore; that she didn’t worry her unstable demon would one day gain supremacy.
As things currently stood, the entity was too protective of Larkin to want to take total control of her. But if that changed, if the demon ever decided to really fight for dominance, it might well get what it wanted.
Larkin had a will as strong as iron.