Omens (The Dark in You #6) - Suzanne Wright Page 0,22

birthday. She wanted Raini to have a break from all that bullshit.

She also wanted to stomp on the fucker’s windpipe a few times. A girl had to get her kicks where she could.

The succubus forced a smile. “Well, shall we get moving?”

Using the escalators, they went from floor to floor, breezing past shoppers who were carrying bags, pushing baby strollers, or chatting on their cell phones.

Raini led the way, as usual, which suited everyone else just fine. She might be an avid shopper, but she never overspent. Raini was a master at sniffing out bargains. She was one of those people who could buy bags of stuff yet never go over her allotted budget.

They browsed many stores, purchasing various items with Raini’s advice, since she had a talent for sensing just what clothes would best suit a person. Really, she could make a living as a personal shopper.

Hours later, as they were walking along the top floor, Khloé tapped Raini on the shoulder and said, “Just so you know, Harper looks near the point of slapping random people just for jostling her.” The sphinx never lasted long at the mall.

“I smell coffee.” Devon turned as if to follow the scent trail, but Raini tugged her back.

“Not yet,” said the succubus.

“But my feet hurt.” The hellcat pouted. “And the bag handles are digging into my hands.”

Raini sighed. “You’re carrying two small bags, since you’re using your mate as a mule. One more store, and then we’re done, I promise.”

Harper stared longingly at the lounge area near the jewelry kiosk. “I could just wait there.”

“But then you wouldn’t be finished shopping, and we’d have to come back another day,” Raini pointed out.

Harper’s mouth tightened. “Fine, fine, let’s get this over with.”

Raini dragged them over to a store that featured a window display with mannequins in various poses. As always, Tanner stood outside the shop, on guard, while the females browsed the rails and shelves.

Checking the price tag on a trendy leather purse, Devon said, “Hey, Khlo, I’ve been meaning to ask you … Why does Keenan keep giving you looks?”

Khloé paused in sliding the metal hangers on a rack and, going for clueless, asked, “Looks? What kind of looks?”

“I don’t know how to describe them, but they’re full of heat and promise.”

Raini hummed, fingering the fabric of a royal blue dress. “I’ve noticed them. They make me all tingly, and they’re not even directed at me.”

They made Khloé a little tingly too. He’d telepathed her several times over the last few days—sometimes they were in the same room, sometimes they were far apart. Always he’d make some teasing comment about how much time she had left before he’d have his taste of her.

Honestly, she was surprised he’d lasted this long without reaching for his flask. Her mother couldn’t go ten hours without a drink, let alone a few days. Was it possible that he wasn’t truly an addict? Or could it be that he had some sort of power that enabled him to hold out or something?

Devon nodded. “He’s been tossing you those looks for days now.”

“Know what else?” asked Harper. “I haven’t seen him take a swig from his flask for days either. Knox told me that Keenan hasn’t been drinking lately.”

Khloé went back to skimming through the clothes. “Hmm. Odd.”

“Ooh, she’s feigning obliviousness, girls,” said Devon, her eyes bright. “That means she’s hiding something.”

“Fess up, Khloé.” Harper folded her arms. “Are you two sleeping together?”

Khloé sighed. “No.”

“Then what are we missing? Come on, cousin, start talking.”

Knowing they wouldn’t drop this, Khloé shrugged and said, “He and I have a little wager going on.”

Raini’s brows lowered. “A wager? What kind of wager?”

“He bet me that he could go a week without drinking,” Khloé replied. “If he caves, he has to be my slave for the day.”

“And if he doesn’t cave?” prodded Devon.

Khloé licked her front teeth. “Hegetstofeedfromme.”

Raini put a hand to her forehead. “Oh, Lord.”

Harper sighed. “Khloé.”

“What’s the big deal? There isn’t a hope in hell that he’ll abstain from drinking for an entire week,” Khloé scoffed.

“Keenan would never have made such a bet unless he was sure he’d win it,” said Harper. “He’s done this so that he can taste you, not to prove he isn’t an alcoholic—he doesn’t care what people think of him.”

“Tricky bastard,” Devon muttered.

Khloé shook her head. “He’ll never hold out.” But even as she said that, unease knotted her stomach. Her demon wasn’t so anxious—it had no issues with the thought of him feeding from