Omens (The Dark in You Book 6) Read online

  If anyone could write a handbook on not giving a single rat’s ass, it would be Khloé. She had her own special brand of logic, was a magnet for trouble, had no sense of self-preservation, and could stir shit in an empty room.

  Technically, she should annoy the fuck out of him. Particularly since she seemed to have made it her life’s mission to be a pain in his ass. She teased him, prodded him, riled him—all of which she seemed to take delight in doing.

  And yet, he liked the fucking nutcase. More, he wanted her. He’d wanted her for years. He’d told himself over and over that it was best to keep his distance; that she wasn’t for him; that it would make him an asshole to run the risk of hurting her. All the while, he could feel himself weakening.

  He never would have thought he could be so drawn to someone like her. But she fascinated him. Beckoned him. Made him laugh when little else did anymore.

  “You gonna glare at Khloé all night?” asked Levi, his voice laced with amusement.

  “I’m not glaring at her, I’m watching her … because it’s only a matter of time before she does something stupid, and then I’ll have to wade in.”

  “What’s wrong with her having a good time?”

  “Nothing, if she didn’t always do crazy shit when smashed. The last time I gave her drunken ass a ride home, she wanted to go skinny dipping. I said no. Then she wanted to go to church. I said no. Then she wanted to break into the zoo to ‘see some fucking penguins.’ Again, I said no. What else would I say?”

  Tanner chuckled. “In case you’ve forgotten, she’s an imp. They specialize in irritating people. But I don’t think you’d get half so frustrated with Khloé if you weren’t fighting how much you want her. All that pent-up sexual need must be messing with your head.”

  It was messing with everything—his concentration, his dreams, his resolve to not give into it. Still, he said, “I don’t get involved with women who mean something to the people in my life—you know that. Khloé is the cousin of one of my Primes. It’s not wise to shit where you eat.” Which was why Keenan also never got involved with women from his lair.

  “You think we can’t sense how close you are to breaking that rule for her?” asked Tanner. “What’s holding you back? Does your demon dislike her?”

  Keenan snorted inwardly. The dark entity within him was cold to the bone and had time for very few people, but it wanted to outright own Khloé Wallis. It wanted to collect this bold, vibrant creature—there was simply no one like her. Who didn’t like to collect the unusual?

  “My demon likes her just fine,” said Keenan.

  “If you’re worried that things might be awkward between you afterward, there’s no need,” Knox cut in. “As my mate says, Khloé doesn’t do ‘awkward.’ And she’s not likely to want more than sex. She doesn’t seem to be looking for a relationship any more than you are. In fact, she seems to quickly tire of any guy she dates.”

  Yeah, Keenan had noticed that. He couldn’t deny that it pleased him. He could be a selfish, possessive fucker when it came to her.

  “Seriously, what’s really holding you back?” pushed Tanner.

  Keenan rubbed a hand over his jaw. “You know what powers I have as an incubus, right?”

  The hellhound nodded. “You can infuse lust into people, implant thoughts and images into their minds, and incite sexual desires that only you can satisfy. You’re in total control of their lust and pleasure, which means you can heighten and prolong orgasms while feeding on their sexual energy.”

  “Right,” said Keenan. “I’m also in complete control of my own lust and arousal, so I don’t get hard unless I want to … or, at least, I didn’t until she came along.”

  Tanner’s brows shot up, and Levi let out a low whistle.

  “You’re saying you can’t control how your body reacts to her?” asked Knox.

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying.” Keenan had heard of such a thing happening to other incubi, but it was a rare phenomenon—one he hadn’t thought he’d experience. “It’s like she’s living, breathing Viagra to me.”

  Not once in all Keenan’s centuries of existence had he ever felt so … aware of another person. Whenever Khloé’s attention settled over him, it was like an electric shock to his senses. The sexual chemistry that pulsed between them was as dizzying as it was intoxicating, and it never failed to make his dick jerk to life.

  “Surely it’s refreshing to naturally experience a normal bodily reaction,” said Levi.

  Yes, it was, but … “I don’t trust it. Not even a little bit.”

  “And you don’t like that she makes your infamous self-discipline go right out the window,” Knox guessed.

  “No, I don’t,” Keenan admitted. He liked to be in control of his world. Liked consistency, certainty, and predictability—things he’d lacked as a young child when he’d lived on the streets with his mother; things he’d continued to lack during the years he’d spent in Ramsbrook House.

  On leaving the shithole, he’d sworn that no one would have that level of control over him again. He obeyed his Primes, but he didn’t follow them blindly. He was very much his own man. But Khloé … yeah, she had power over him.

  It felt alien. Wrong. Uncomfortable. It felt as if she’d turned his own body against him; as if she’d stripped aspects of his gift from him. “At first, I thought she was doing it on purpose. I thought she had an ability that allowed her to overpower mine. But it’s clear that she has no idea she’s doing … whatever it is she’s doing.”

  “Maybe she’s not doing anything,” suggested Levi. “Maybe this is just as much out of her control as it is yours.”

  Possibly. Although it spooked the absolute shit out of Keenan on a number of levels that he couldn’t control his body around her, he could admit that he was beyond curious to know what it would be like to have sex while not in complete control of his body. He’d never had that. But tumbling Khloé into bed would be no easy thing anyway. She was attracted to him, but she was also convinced he was an alcoholic and, as such, wanted nothing to do with him.

  “Let’s not pretend you won’t pursue her sooner or later,” said Tanner. “It’s going to happen. Just go with it. Enjoy it. There’s no need to overthink—”

  “Not on the table, Khloé, not on the table!”

  Hearing Harper’s shout, Keenan looked to see the little imp jump onto the table with a whoop of sheer joy. Then she was all sexual confidence and erotic power—fluidly swaying, dipping, and working her hips like a fucking lap dancer. And his dick went hard.

  Where the hell had she learned to move like that?

  A group of men circled the table, cheering her on and whistling—much like Devon and Raini were doing. Keenan was pretty sure his blood pressure soared.

  “Let me ask you one question,” said Knox. “If Khloé crossed the ‘casual’ line with a guy, how would you feel about it?”

  Anger flared through him so hot and fast, Keenan ground his teeth. “It would be her business.”

  “Yeah, it would. But can you be sure you’d let that guy live?”

  Keenan didn’t speak. The honest to God’s truth? No, he couldn’t be sure. Which must have been apparent on his face, because Knox gave him a knowing look.

  “Then maybe you should shove all your reservations aside and act before you miss your chance,” suggested Knox. “I’m not saying you should dive into a relationship. Take it slow, if that’s what you think both of you need. If you go too fast, you’ll spook her anyway.”

  Hearing more loud whistles, Keenan looked back at the table on which she was dancing. Oh, she’d gathered quite a crowd. And now he needed to end this shit fast.

  Keenan made his way across the large space, never once moving his eyes from her. He couldn’t move his eyes from her. Every captivating twitch of her hips and delightful jiggle of her breasts was like a stroke to his cock. And probably to the dick of every man watching her – the very thought made a vein in his temple throb.

  He shouldered his w
ay through the catcalling crowd and moved to stand in front of her table. It took her a few moments to notice him. Did she stop dancing? No. She flashed him a sultry, wicked smile that he felt in his balls.

  “Don Juan, how’s it going?”

  Don Juan? Keenan sighed. “Come on, time for you to go home.”

  “But I’m getting jiggy with—Hey!” Khloé pouted when he lifted and set her on the floor. “Dude, you are such a Debbie Downer. I was—”

  “Seconds away from stripping off your clothes,” he finished. “No, don’t even deny it.”

  “Why? You deny you’re an alcoholic with a gargantuan dick.”

  He briefly closed his eyes. He wouldn’t lose it. He wouldn’t. “Just get your purse so we can leave.”

  It should have been simple for him, Knox, and the other sentinels to move along four drunk women. It wasn’t. Harper and Khloé fled to the restroom, saying they were desperate to pee. Devon started frantically searching for her jacket, despite Tanner’s insistence that she hadn’t brought one. Raini asked them to leave her to sleep in the booth, claiming she’d only “slow them down.”

  Finally, they all got the fuck out of the bar and headed down the “strip.” Most of the bars, clubs, casinos, and restaurants had no front wall, allowing people to see what was going on inside the venues. There was mostly a lot of drinking, dancing, eating, and brawling.

  A quick upward elevator ride later, they’d ascended to the basement of a popular nightclub that Knox had built to disguise the entrance of the Underground from humans.

  Outside, Levi escorted Knox and Harper to their Bentley while Tanner took Devon—who was barely awake—straight to his Audi.

  Keenan ushered Khloé and Raini toward his car. The women lived reasonably close to each other, so it made sense for him to give them both a ride. Taking a drunk Khloé anywhere was never an easy feat, but he liked to be sure she got home safely.

  Having ushered the two females into the vehicle, he closed the rear passenger door, hopped into the front seat, and drove to north Las Vegas. That was when Khloé’s idea of “fun” began.

  She drew satanic-looking symbols on Raini’s face with red lipstick. She sang Afroman’s “Because I Got High” in a Smurf-like voice. She asked Keenan to take her to an Amish community so she could “see some Amish dudes—they might be cute.” When he refused, she proclaimed him an Amish cockblocker.

  He growled. “Have you lost your mind?”

  “Long ago.” Khloé tilted her head. “I miss it sometimes.”

  Certifiable. The woman was a certifiable nutcase.

  Finally, they arrived at Raini’s house. Only when the succubus was safely inside with the front door locked behind her did Keenan then drive Khloé home.

  As he steered her up the path with his hand on her back, he sighed. “Could you stop singing ‘Amish Paradise’?”

  “You gotta love Weird Al Yankovic,” she said. “Hey, why do you think humans sterilize lethal injections?”

  “I don’t know.” He plucked her keys out of her clutch, unlocked the front door, and then shepherded her inside.

  “Farewell, Don Juan.” She mule-kicked the door, almost slamming it in his face. He whipped up his hand, caught it before it could close, and shoved it open.

  “You forgot this.” Returning her keys to her clutch, he tossed it at her feet just as she sat on the hallway bench. “Lock up behind me.”

  She didn’t respond, preoccupied with trying to remove her shoes. Honestly, it hurt to watch her awkwardly fumble with the ankle straps. Sighing, Keenan stepped inside and closed the door. He crouched in front of her and gently batted her hands away. “I’ll do it.”

  This close, he had no choice but to breathe in her scent. She smelled like marshmallows and honeysuckle, edible and far too fucking tempting.

  He carefully worked to undo the left shoe-strap. His fingers grazed her warm, petal-soft skin, and he almost pulled back as a shot of static electricity surged through him. It was sudden. Irrepressible. Jarring.

  Being so near to her was a sweet agony. His palms itched to stroke and explore and bite her smooth skin. His demon urged him to spread both her legs wide and taste—

  Keenan cursed silently. Refusing to be a slave to the sexual connection that seemed determined to bind them, he forced his mind back to the task at hand. He removed her shoe, set it aside, and moved on to the next.

  “Your schlong went hard when you saw me dancing, didn’t it?”

  And his fingers slipped right off the strap.

  She laughed, low and smoky, not in the least bit daunted by the glare he shot her. “Oh, come on, I’m just messing with ya, Keenan. I know incubi only get a hard-on if they want to.”

  He could only shake his head. She had no idea what she did to him. No idea that she seemed to have more control over his body than he did. He slipped off her second shoe, tossed it aside, and then stood.

  “On a serious note, though,” she began, rising to her feet, “does it hurt to walk when you’re hard? Because that monster in your jeans has to weigh a few pounds.”

  His patience gone, Keenan went nose to nose with her. “Swear to Christ, Khloé, if you mention my cock one more time, I’m going to thrust it inside you and fuck you so hard you’ll be screaming.”

  *

  Goosebumps swept across Khloé’s skin as the atmosphere snapped taut. She stared at him, at a loss for words – a rare occurrence in her world.

  Her body, well, it just lit up. Tingled and buzzed and hummed. Her mouth went dry. Her pulse skittered. Need pooled low in her stomach, raw and wicked.

  Yeah, the gorgeous bastard rang every sexual bell she had.

  The eyes boldly holding her own smoldered with something dark and hot. It was a stare that said, “I could pound into you all night and ruin you for other men.”

  Hell, she didn’t doubt it. If he could reduce her brain to mush with just the heat and intensity of his stare, he’d most definitely be a goddamn rock star in bed.

  Finally, his eyes released hers. They dropped to her mouth, and he swallowed hard. Then that broody gaze drifted lower and lower, peeling off her clothing, tracing every line and curve, stripping her of her defenses, making pure heat ripple through her body.

  Hell, she’d just gotten laid by his eyes. It was a rush and a tease.

  He needed to say something. Or she did. The tension just kept on building and building … until she wanted to scream, and her nerves were on the verge of exploding.

  Seriously, someone needed to say something.

  The only thing that eased the sensual torture was the comforting knowledge that she wasn’t the only one suffering. His breathing was no steadier than her own.

  There was a possessive glint in his gaze that pleased her demon. But unlike the entity, Khloé knew better than to think he’d ever act on any possessiveness he might feel.If he had any intention of doing so, he’d have done it by now.

  Digging deep for some element of calm, she went for blasé. “Sorry, alcoholics aren’t my type.”

  A muscle in his cheek flexed. “I’m not addicted to alcohol. I drink because I want to. And, you know, you’re pretty judgmental about drinking for someone who gets blitzed almost every weekend.”

  “Ah, but I don’t do it to escape or function. I do it to have fun with my friends – that’s different.”

  “I could give up drinking any time.”

  She snickered. “For maybe a day, sure. But for longer? Nu-uh.”

  Cunning flashed in his eyes. “Yeah? How about we test your little theory?” He folded his arms. “I’ll go one full week without alcohol – I won’t have so much as a sip of it.”

  “Sure,” she drawled, openly skeptical.

  “I’m serious.”

  “You truly think you can do that?”

  “Yes. And if I’m right …” His gaze darkened, focusing on her so intensely it made her scalp prickle. “I get to feed from you.”

  Khloé’s heartbeat stuttered. “Feed from me
?”

  “I won’t touch you, but I will use my powers to make you come for me. Hard.”

  Well, hell. Sexual energy was like an aphrodisiac to incubi. They built up their prey’s need without even physically touching them, blanketing them with pleasure-inducing pheromones, and then they fed off that energy.

  She’d seen it happen once at a club. An incubus had done nothing more than pin a woman close to his body, breathing in every breath that left her lungs as she writhed and moaned in his arms.

  “Not willing to take the risk that you’re wrong?” asked Keenan.

  Her smile dripped with pity. “Sweetie, did you hit your head? You’d never manage to abstain from drinking for a week.” It was laughable that he’d think differently.

  “With the right motivation, a man can do anything.”

  She didn’t see how he’d find the idea of feeding from her that motivational. He might be attracted to her, but that would never be enough to fight his craving for a drink. There was no way he’d win this little bet, and she saw no reason why she couldn’t capitalize on that—she was an imp, after all.

  “Okay. But if you do cave like a loser—which you will, my friend—you have to be my slave for the day,” she said. “That means cooking, cleaning, doing my laundry, chauffeuring me around, and doing pretty much whatever else I want you to do.” She thought he’d balk at that. He didn’t.

  “All right,” he far too easily agreed. Like a dumbass.

  If he was anyone else, she would have asked how she could be sure he’d stick to his part of the deal, but Keenan had way too much integrity to go back on his word—something her relatives would never understand.

  “So the bet is on?” There was a definite dare in his tone.

  Khloé lifted her chin. “It’s on, but only because I know you’ll cave and reach for the bottle—or, in your case, the flask in your jacket.”

  His eyes bled to black as his demon rose to the fore, and the air temperature dropped a few degrees. The entity stared at her, its black gaze cold, unblinking, and … assessing.

  Her own demon stirred, curious about the entity in front of them. It was much older than Khloé would have guessed, but she couldn’t sense just how old. What she could sense was that it was super fucking dangerous.