majestic than the others. It was also packed with more muscle and had an intimidatingly confident air.
It was favorite to win, like always. Every person in the VIP box—other than Asher, of course—had placed a bet on it.
Raini grinned. “I love how Teague’s hellhorse just stands there very still while the others try to irritate it by snapping their teeth or puffing smoke out of their nostrils. It doesn’t even look their way, as if it believes it’s above all that.”
“I honestly don’t know why anyone would even bother to race against it,” said Devon. “That stallion never loses.”
“That’s exactly why people want to race against it,” said Keenan. “They know that if they do miraculously win, they’ll make an instant name for themselves.”
The hellcat lifted her brows. “Never thought of it like that.”
“See the female hellhorse on the far right?” asked Khloé. “She’s the smallest of all the competitors.”
“I see her,” said Keenan. “I’ve seen her race before. She’s fast, especially for her size.”
“She is,” Khloé confirmed. “She’s been hounding Teague to father her child, ignoring his refusals. I know that hellbeasts often choose fathers for their kids who are fit and strong and powerful. But of all the reasons to ask someone to father your child, she actually asked Teague so that their offspring might be a hellhorse racing champion.”
“Sounds like she’s hoping to achieve something through her child that she can’t achieve herself,” said Larkin. “Some parents are like that. Ooh, looks like the race is about to start.”
Done with her hotdog, Khloé placed her napkin in the trash and then opened the sliding glass door. As she stepped out onto the private balcony, the scents of dirt, horses, and concession food drifted to her. Keenan and the others joined her on the balcony, their gazes locked on the hellhorses.
A hush had fallen upon the stadium, and the steeds had all stilled. The air was taut with intensity, excitement, and anticipation. It was enough to make Khloé’s stomach flutter again.
A horn beeped, signaling the start of the race. The hell-horses burst into action and flew across the track. Their hooves thundered along the ground, kicking up so much dirt that dust clouded the air.
Teague’s stallion kept its pace steady but swift as it fell into something like, what, seventh place? It was hard to tell straight off. There were so many competitors. The hellhorses didn’t stay in their own lanes. They ran as a tight herd, biting and body-slamming each other as they strived to reach first place.
Voices gave a fast commentary over the loudspeaker, but Khloé wasn’t really listening. She was focused on the track, calling out Teague’s name and cheering on his demon.
“I like the way Teague’s hellhorse hangs back a little, like it knows it’s a given that it’ll win,” said Devon.
“The race is still hard to watch,” began Harper, “because you know there’s no way that they’ll walk off that track without some injuries. Shit, they’re coming to the first hurdle.”
Khloé held her breath as Teague’s stallion jumped high, clearing the wall and ditches. A couple of the others weren’t so lucky—one scraped its belly on the pieces of broken glass that studded the top of the stone wall. Another landed awkwardly, and one foreleg crumpled beneath it. In both cases, the steeds tumbled into the ditch of spears.
Raini flinched. “It’s painful to watch.”
Khloé nodded. “That had to hurt like a mother.” Her demon loved the mercilessness of it all, the freak.
She bit her lip as the rest of the hellhorses rocketed across the track, their legs a blur. They galloped through pools of flaming water, leapt over hedges that blazed with hellfire, and cleared walls that were embedded with thorns and spikes—always striving to avoid the ditches. Some succeeded, but not all.
“There’s fourteen steeds left,” said Keenan. “Thirteen,” he corrected when a hellhorse tumbled into a lava ditch. Its squeals of agony made her chest hurt.
The other steeds paid it no attention, needing to focus. They bolted, their hooves thudding so hard on the ground she would bet the spectators near the fence could feel the vibrations.
Her heart sank when she glimpsed the next hurdle. It wasn’t simply a high wall. Short swords stabbed out of its sides and surface every few seconds. Swords which could easily slice the knees, legs, or stomach of the hellhorses.
As the steeds approached the hurdle, the one beside Teague’s swung its head, neck extended, and bit Teague’s shoulder hard enough to make it nicker and shake