Omens (The Dark in You #6) - Suzanne Wright Page 0,104

win—but her stomach still often went all jittery with anticipation.

Hellhorse racing was bloody, gory, and intense as hell. Which was why she and her demon loved to observe it.

Normal horses might be prey animals, but hellhorses sure weren’t. There was nothing placid or timid about them. They were ferocious, aggressive, mercurial creatures with notoriously bad tempers.

Keenan curled his arms around Khloé from behind and locked her to him. “I’ll admit, this VIP box is way cooler than the one at the hellhound stadium,” he said.

Khloé smiled. “Ain’t it, though?”

Like the VIP boxes at the hellhound racing stadiums, it had chic leather seating, multiple TVs, and a personal waiter who would enter whenever summoned. But it had a few extra luxuries, such as the cool mini bar, complimentary champagne, the small buffet of finger-foods, and the sliding glass door that led to a private balcony.

Sidling up to them, Devon tipped back her champagne flute and sipped at her drink. “As much as I love watching hellhorses race, I’ll never quite understand why they put themselves through this. I mean, some of those obstacles are horrendous.”

The hellcat wasn’t wrong. It wasn’t so much the eight-foot tall hedges and stone walls—it was the ditches that were placed to either side of them. Said ditches contained some horrible shit—simmering lava, short flaming wooden spears, clumps of hyped-up poisonous snakes, and red-hot iron spikes to name but a few.

“The person who comes up with ideas for the hurdles has to be a sadist,” said Harper, comfortably perched on a leather seat with Asher on her lap. “You’d better hope said sadist doesn’t turn his attention to hellhound racing, Tanner. You guys already have it hard with the hot oily pits and bubbling puddles of boiling water.”

Seated opposite the sphinx with Larkin beside him, Tanner said, “Those puddles burn like a son of a …” He trailed off as his eyes flicked to Asher, who was playing with his fake cell phone. “Gun,” he finished lamely.

Keenan nuzzled Khloé’s neck. “You going to give me a bite of that hotdog?”

Her nose wrinkled. “Nah.”

“But I’m hungry. And I shared my chips with you.”

“I don’t see your point. Hey!” she whined when he leaned over and bit a chunk out of the hotdog.

He quickly chewed it and said, “I’ll make it up to you later.”

Devon gently nudged her. “Is Ciaran not coming?”

Khloé sighed. “I don’t think so. I invited him, but … he’s been avoiding me.”

“It’s guilt, sweetie,” said Raini, leaning against the window. “He hates that he’s healed and you’re not. Also, he seems to be throwing all his energy and time into finding someone who can heal you.”

Khloé was well aware of that, and she couldn’t say she’d have acted any different in his position, but … “It would have been good for him to take a break and just chill for half an hour.”

Devon touched the glass. “Ooh, we have movement down there.”

Khloé watched as, sure-footed and impressively built, twenty hellhorses padded onto the oval track, their heads high and proud. Spectators cheered and whistled.

The steeds lined up, side by side, near the start line. Some looked hyper and edgy, swishing their tails and trotting on the spot. Others were calm and still, like they were about to go for a leisurely walk through the woods or something. They had no jockeys, so there were no reins or saddles.

“Horsies!” shouted Asher, leaning forward to get a better look at them.

“Sort of,” said Harper. “They’re hellhorses.”

The kid pointed at his chest. “For me.”

“No, little man, they’re not for you.” Harper rolled her eyes. “I’m thankful he can’t pyroport very far right now, or he’d probably plop himself on top of one of the hellhorses.”

“That would be a bad idea, dude,” Devon told him. “No one rides a hellhorse unless they’re crazy.”

Khloé frowned. “I’ve ridden Teague’s steed a few times.”

“I rest my case,” said the hellcat.

Snorting, Khloé turned back to the view of the track.

“Hellhorses might be insane, but there’s no denying that they’re beautiful,” said Larkin.

Beautiful was an understatement, in Khloé’s opinion. They were regal and elegant with their arched neck, long legs, inward-turned ear tips, and their long, high-carried tail. Their metallic coat and lush mane were as dark as their all-black, wide-set eyes. In a word, they were breathtaking.

Teague’s stallion was easily identifiable due to the large scar that slashed across its neck, but Khloé would have recognized it anyway. It had a little extra, indefinable something that made it so much more magnificent and