There was a whole lot of information there, Tanner thought. But there was also a lot of holes. “How did your mom die?” he asked, his tone gentle. Nonetheless, she bristled.
“I thought you wanted to know about my relationship with Finn.”
Tanner felt his mouth tighten. His hellcat sure had a lot of no-go subjects. But after the day she’d had, he’d be a fucking asshole if he pushed her to open what was clearly a raw wound. “Finn has other children, right?”
She nodded. “Three.” Like Finn and his partner, they were harbingers whereas Devon took after her mother, who was a hellcat. It was one of many things that set Devon apart from her paternal family, but she didn’t lament that.
“What’s your relationship with them like?”
“Complicated,” said Devon just as he pulled up outside her building. And he immediately tensed. Yeah, she’d figured he wouldn’t like what he saw. Looking at the tall, rundown, graffiti-stained building, she almost sighed. She wished she could say it looked better on the inside than it did on the outside, but that would be a lie.
“You live here?” Tanner asked, voice strangely flat.
“Yep,” she replied, going for nonchalant. He’d given her rides home in the past—mostly when she’d been smashed after a girls’ night out—but she’d shared a place with her cousin back then. It was only when her cousin got serious with some guy that Devon moved out to give them space.
This part of North Las Vegas was far from a good area, but there were worse neighborhoods. The complex might need some major TLC, but it was structurally sound. Sort of.
“Thanks for the ride.” She hopped out of the Audi before he could say a word. It was just as she skirted the hood of the car that he slid out of the driver’s door, his body uncoiling like a snake.
“I want to give the place a once-over,” he said.
She blinked. “What’s that now?”
“There’s a chance that the broker’s men came here. I want to check there aren’t any surprises waiting for you up there.”
Devon’s mouth thinned. “No one who is a threat to me could get inside the walls of my apartment. An incantor from my lair pretty much lavished protective wards all over it.”
“Wards can be undone—I’ve seen it happen.” He prowled toward the building before she could argue further.
Cursing to herself, she followed him. “This really isn’t necessary.”
Stopping outside the main door, he said, “Humor me.”
She went to object again, but then she snapped her mouth shut, knowing she’d be wasting her breath; there was no way of shooing along someone like Tanner Cole. “Fine—have at it.”
Devon unlocked the door, and in they went. As the scents of pot, alcohol, urine, and mouse shit wafted over them, a lick of shame brushed over her skin. She’d never seen Tanner’s home, but she knew from Harper that he lived in one of Knox’s swanky apartment buildings. She’d bet his stairwells weren’t littered with empty beer bottles, cigarette butts, and other debris. Would bet the paint wasn’t peeling from the walls that were riddled with cracks, holes, and splotches of black mildew. Would bet he wouldn’t hear rodents skittering, see doors chained shut, or find squatters here and there.
She spared him a brief glance; his jaw was tight, and his eyes were hard as he scanned their surroundings. Her pride took a hit, but she kept her head high as she led him up the stairwell to her floor and then over to her apartment. She unlocked the door, stepped onto the beige carpet, and then moved aside for him to pass.
He came in and closed the door behind him, his nostrils flaring. “There’s a lot of powerful magick here. I can feel it. Smell it. The incantor sits high on the power spectrum. Just where do you sit on it, kitten?”
Devon snorted. “Do I look slow to you?” Unless they were stupid, no demon revealed something so personal. To answer “low” or even “in the center” was to admit to being vulnerable on some level. Demons were predators. You didn’t admit weakness to a predator. Even to answer “high” wasn’t good. It would intrigue the predator, who might then see them as a potential challenge or feel the need to establish themselves as the dominant figure.
As such, Tanner’s question was the equivalent of asking her to strip naked.
Not that she’d have been particularly opposed to stripping naked for Tanner