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  She also liked to call attention to how different Harper was from the females in his past – different in that they were elegant, well-groomed, and cultured whereas Harper was… Harper. What Belinda wasn’t grasping was that Harper was absolutely fine with who she was. She had no wish to change. Moreover, Knox didn’t want her to change.

  “She says you’re refusing to work with the clothes designer she set you up with,” Knox told her, mouth curved. He didn’t care whether Harper bought a dress or had it designed as long as she was happy.

  “I don’t need someone to design and tailor-make a dress for me.” Harper especially didn’t want to work with that particular designer, who had rudely told Harper that it would be difficult to make her look elegant. “I can buy one like everyone else.” The real reason the cambion called Knox was that she’d use any excuse to get his attention. She often ran to him if Harper gave her an answer she didn’t like.

  “Why can’t you deal with the preparations?” Harper asked him.

  “I’ve given my input. Now you need to give yours.”

  “But she’s an event planner. Can’t I leave it to her and her team to deal with?”

  “No, baby. You’re a Prime now. You can’t hand anyone complete control of anything in your life.”

  Well, he had a point there. Dammit. “Did she happen to mention that she wanted to hold the event in the ballroom of one of the hotels?”

  Knox frowned. “There isn’t a ballroom big enough for hundreds of demons to fit inside.”

  “Oh, she’s still happy for the whole stretch of the Underground’s strip to be involved in the event. She wants each and every bar, club, restaurant, and other venue to take part, which is fine. But she just also wants all the Primes and VIPs to be separated from everyone else so they can have a fancy party – a party she doesn’t want my relatives attending.” Fuck that.

  “She failed to mention all of that,” replied Knox, face hardening.

  “I told her that I didn’t mind if she made the combat zone look fancy so it catered to anyone with that taste.” It was no different than the clubs and bars throwing something casual, and she knew Knox would prefer the whole champagne and soft music scene. “But only if the space was open to anyone.”

  “That’s more than fair,” said Knox. Done with his meal, he pushed his plate aside. “If she complains to me about this, I’ll be sure to make it clear that there will be no segregating anyone. I’m sorry she’s being a problem for you, baby. If you want her fired, say the word.”

  “I don’t want to fire her. In terms of her work, I have no complaints about her. Most of her suggestions have been really good, and her team is totally on the ball. I don’t want to take care of all the stuff they’re arranging. It’s just that, well, she’s a pain in the ass at times. But I can deal.”

  “All right.” In truth, Knox would prefer to fire Belinda if she was causing his mate any frustration, but coddling Harper would only make her pissed at him. “If it comes to a point where it gets too much or she steps over any line, she’s gone.” Satisfied when Harper nodded, he stood and pulled on the jacket of his black suit. “Unfortunately, I have to go now. You’ll find out your co-workers’ opinion on my proposal?”

  “I said I will, and I will.”

  Knox crossed to Harper and tugged her to her feet. “I have a busy day ahead,” he began, nipping her lip, “but I won’t be home too late.”

  Harper melted against him, inhaling his dark sensual cologne that drove her demon crazy. “The girls are taking me to the Underground after work. They want to help me pick out a dress for the little shindig.”

  “You say it like they’re taking you for a walk down Death Row. And it’s not a shindig.”

  “Hm.”

  He kissed her long and slow. “I’ll meet you at the Underground tonight then.” He breezed his thumb over her jaw. “Remember to be alert for any signs of Crow. You made me a promise yesterday and I expect you to keep it.” He would give her the space to be self-reliant and he’d respect her need to fight her own battles, but not to a point that she wouldn’t admit to needing his help.

  “I will. Take care. A bullet to the heart could kill you too.” Her brow furrowed. “Couldn’t it?”

  “Maybe.” His mouth curved as he teased, “Then again, maybe not.” With a gentle pat to her ass, he left.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  An hour later, Tanner smoothly parked the Audi outside the tattoo studio, just as he did every morning. Her dark, broad shouldered bodyguard was also her chauffeur, and Harper didn’t understand how the roles couldn’t possibly bore the living shit out of him. He was a sentinel. He was trained in God knew how many different things and had plenty of adrenalin pumping stuff he could be doing, like tracking Crow.

  She’d told Knox several times to give Tanner less demanding hours, but her mate wouldn’t hear of it. And, considering stuff like almost getting raped happened when the hellhound wasn’t around, she didn’t really have a decent case to argue with.

  “That’s not nice,” said Tanner, a smile in his voice.

  Tracking his gaze, Harper saw Devon standing at the window flipping him off. Then, with a haughty glare, the hellcat flicked her long, ultraviolet curls over her shoulder and whirled back to face the jewelry display cabinet. Hellhounds and hellcats had an instinctive aversion to each other.

  Twisting in his seat, Tanner held out a small paper bag, his wolf-gold eyes gleaming with mischief. “Give this to the kitty cat for me.”

  Harper raised her hands. “No way. I’m not getting involved in this weird little war you two are having.”

  “Oh come on, Harper.”

  Sliding out of the car, she shook her head. “You’ll have to give it to her yourself. Though I wouldn’t advise you to.” Devon was by no means weak.

  Pushing open the front door of the studio, Harper found Khloë sitting behind the curved, chrome reception desk. It was always kept obsessively neat, despite that the small, olive-skinned imp was literally the messiest person appearance-wise ever.

  Khloë grinned. “Morning, sunshine. Donuts? I didn’t steal these.”

  Such a little liar. Harper blew out a long breath and forced a smile. “Maybe later.”

  Sensing something was wrong, Devon quickly rounded the large L-shaped sofa and rushed to Harper’s side – banging her leg on the coffee table in the process and almost knocking off the tattoo portfolios.

  Harper winced. “Are you okay?”

  She waved away the pain. “What happened? Raini, get out here, something’s wrong!”

  Raini rushed out of the office. “What is it?” In a blue vest and jeans, she couldn’t have looked more casual. Nonetheless, any male would fall at her feet because, as a succubus, she exuded sex. There was no hiding her curves, flawless skin, or those piercing amber eyes.

  Harper hung her jacket on the coat rack and then moved to her station, where she sank into her black leather chair. “Well, a demon from Knox’s lair is close to rogue, the bastard’s run off, and he’s taken Carla with him.”

  Khloë blinked. “Huh. Didn’t see that coming.” She also didn’t appear to care, which was no surprise given that she despised both of Harper’s parents.

  “Wait, why Carla?” asked Devon, her cat-green eyes clouded with confusion.

  “It would seem that this demon, Lawrence Crow, has visions,” replied Harper. “He claims he’s had a vision that one day Knox and I will have a baby – a baby that will destroy us all. And no, I’m not kidding. He seems to feel that, by giving birth to me, Carla is partly at fault for this. Though I’m not sure he would have kidnapped her if she hadn’t been right there when he chose to run. I think he was just being an opportunist.”

  Raini leaned back against her own chair. “Wow. That’s… wow.”

  Devon bit her lower lip. “Harper, I’ve been around someone who was close to rogue. They can be totally paranoid. They see threats and conspiracies everywhere.”

  Harper raised a reassuring han
d. “I don’t believe his vision was anything but a delusion.”

  The hellcat nodded. “Good.”

  “Oh, and I almost got mugged yesterday,” Harper then announced. Yes, she was understating things, but only because she didn’t want it to sway their decision to relocate. “Which Knox is of course using to support his case that we should move the studio to the Underground. He’s even chosen a building he thinks will be ideal.”

  “Have you been to see it?” asked Khloë, to which Harper shook her head.

  “I wasn’t keen on the idea of moving at first,” said Raini. “This is our baby. But there would be some benefits to moving. Let’s face it; this isn’t a good area. Our client base would be bigger if we moved to the Underground. We’d also be a lot safer there.” She turned to Devon. “What do you think?”

  “Part of me doesn’t like the idea,” replied the hellcat. “We built this up to what it is; we built up our reputation and our client base. And I like the location. It’s near the sandwich shop and the bakery.”

  “But…?” prompted Raini.

  “But moving makes good business sense,” Devon went on. “We’d lose some clients, but we’d gain others. We wouldn’t have to pay rent or bills because, hello, the Underground partly belongs to Harper now. Besides, there are bakeries and stuff down there too. What about you, Khloë?”

  “I like the idea of working somewhere where we wouldn’t have to pretend to be something we’re not.” Khloë gestured to the studio. “Here, we have to act human. Down there, we can be ourselves. There’s a flipside to that, though. Demons will always look down on imps, especially Wallis imps. That will affect the business on some level and we might have to deal with a lot of rudeness.”

  “You’re right,” said Harper. “Our surname means nothing to humans, so we don’t have that issue here. But we’d face it down there.” Groaning, Harper rubbed at her eyes. “I know one thing. He’s not going to let this go. So, what do we do? It has to be a unanimous decision.”

  “Despite the downsides of being there, I’m open to relocating,” said Raini. “But I’d have to see the space he wants us to use. It would have to feel right to me.”

  Devon nodded. “Agree to take a look at it, Harper. If you think it’s cool, call us. We’ll come and check it out.”

  “If it meets all of our approval, I don’t see why we can’t move there,” said Khloë. “People relocate their businesses all the time. I’d miss this place, though.”

  Looking around the studio, Harper couldn’t help but smile. She really did love it. Loved its rock/art/Harley-Davidson vibe. Loved the metal wall art hanging on the white walls with framed photos of tattoos. Each piece of wall art was an enlarged copy of a tattoo. Some were simple, like bright flames and tribal swirls. Others were bolder, like the howling wolf, the flock of ravens, and the Chinese dragons.

  Hearing the door open, Harper looked to see… “Belinda.” How wonderful. Her inner demon rolled its eyes; it deemed the woman rather pathetic. As a cambion, Belinda was half-human, but cambions were still classed as a breed of demon in their own right.

  Belinda halted in front of her, hands on hips, long false nails tapping her pencil skirt. As ever, she looked the consummate professional. Her make-up was perfectly applied. There wasn’t a single wrinkle in that gray suit tailor-made for her willowy figure. Her black heels were stylish, but sensible. And her wheat-blonde hair was pulled back in a severe French pleat with the help of a lot of gel. It looked a little painful, actually. Her scalp had to sting something awful.

  Hazel eyes hard, Belinda spoke with a tone sharp enough to cut glass. “Really, Harper, you need to follow my schedule if this event is to go as it should.”

  Harper frowned. “What exactly have I missed?”

  “Your appointment with the designer, of course. You were supposed to be there an hour ago.”

  “Oh, you mean the appointment I told you to cancel?”

  Tapping one foot, Belinda sighed. “If you have an issue with the designer, there are others you can work with.”

  “There’s no need. I’ll pick up a dress from the mall.”

  Her face went slack. “You cannot be serious.” She sounded utterly horrified.

  “Why?”

  “That would risk another person wearing the same dress as you at the event!”

  Compared to the shit with Crow, it was such a petty thing to be concerned about. “If that happens, it happens.”

  Belinda’s mouth tightened. “I emailed Knox a portfolio of the designer’s work a few days ago. He approved of it.”

  “You were the kid in school that snitched on everyone to the principal, weren’t you?” She really had that whiny, ass-kissing ‘I’m telling Miss!’ vibe about her.

  One over-tweezed brow slid up. “Excuse me?”

  “This might shock you, Belinda, but I make my own decisions. Knox might approve of something, but he would never tell me what or what not to wear.” Especially since, thanks to his fucked-up past, he knew how that felt. Oh, he’d give his opinion, but he would never make the choice for her.

  Belinda’s smile dripped with condescension. “Knox Thorne is the type of demon who likes to have his own way. He makes no apologies for it. If you expect to keep him, you should learn that quickly and go along with his wishes.”

  Harper slowly pushed out of the chair and cocked her head. “Is that what you would have done? Given him whatever he wanted? Become whatever he wanted? Hmm. It’s no wonder he never touched you.” Belinda gasped, which made Harper’s demon smile. “He’d have sensed that about you. His demon would have sensed it. Easy prey is no fun for a predator as powerful as Knox.”

  Cheeks almost as red as her lip gloss, Belinda jutted out her chin. “If you’ll excuse me, I have things to do.”

  “Oh, you’re excused,” said Harper, sweeping an arm toward the door. Predictably, the she-demon marched out.

  “She really doesn’t think you’re right for Knox, does she?” said Raini.

  “She thinks she knows him. Probably also thinks she could be better for him.” That was her mistake, Harper thought. “She’s not alone in thinking either of those things.” Many did.

  Devon snorted. “You’re totally right for Knox. She might not see that, but he does and you do. That’s all that matters and —”

  The door opened once more. This time, Harper smiled at the she-demon who strolled inside. “Grams, hi.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me about Carla?” Jolene demanded, crossing the room with her anchor, Beck, and daughter, Martina, in tow. As always, Jolene was wearing a blouse and sleek skirt, emanating a natural veneer of elegance that didn’t manage to hide the well-known fact that she was totally bat-shit. She was also a master manipulator who knew and insisted on pushing every hot button that Lucifer possessed, but that was off-topic.

  “How did you find out?” Harper asked her. It was lair business.

  “I have my ways,” replied Jolene, patting her perfectly styled hair.

  “Ways or spies?”

  “You should have told me.”

  “I was going to, but I didn’t want you to go and blow shit up.” Her grandmother protected her family with a predatory fierceness. She also liked to destroy buildings when she was pissed off, referring to herself as a demolition expert.

  “I’m tempted to,” said Jolene. “Her eldest son is spreading rumors. Little bastard is claiming that you probably took advantage of Crow’s fragile state of mind and talked him into kidnapping Carla.”