Omens (Dark in You 6)

CHAPTER ONE

Khloé Wallis downed her shot and then slammed her glass on the table. “All I’m saying is, Jack and Jill’s parents were plain mean to send the kids up a hill to get a tub of water.”

“A pail,” said Raini, her amber eyes a little glassy.

Khloé frowned at the succubus. “What?”

“A pail of water.”

“What’s a pail?”

“Duh. A pan.”

Awkwardly adjusting her impressive cleavage, Devon shook her head. “No, it’s a bucket. I think. Could be a vase. I like vases. They’re pretty. Sometimes.”

Khloé lazily flicked her hand at the hellcat. “Whatever. The point is … if Jack’s parents had gotten up off their lazy asses, he wouldn’t have broken his leg.”

“Crown,” said Raini.

Khloé blinked. “What?”

“Jack broke his crown, not his leg.”

“Semantics, dude, semantics.” Khloé bopped her head to the music, feeling all warm and fuzzy and tingly. Maybe some wouldn’t go on a girls’ night out if they had to work the next morning, but demons didn’t require much sleep. In fact, they could go days without it. Which was super, because she loved hitting the Xpress bar with her girls. They always had a blast.

It was an upscale hotspot within the Las Vegas Underground, which was a subterranean, demonic playground of sorts. It had everything—bars, clubs, rodeo, casinos, racing stadiums, the whole shebang. And as her cousin, Harper, was mated to the billionaire who owned it, they all had VIP access to their favorite spots—including the Xpress bar.

Happy freaking days.

Having grown up in the same lair, the four women had been close friends since they were kids. That was probably why they worked so well together. Their tattoo studio had become even more popular since they’d relocated to the Underground.

Of course, part of the studio’s appeal was Harper. People wanted to say they’d been tattooed by the powerful Prime. She and Knox were the only mated Primes in the world—demons didn’t like to share power.

Khloé wasn’t artistic like her girls, so she left the tattoos and piercings to them. She was happy working as their receptionist, and she was damn good at her position, even if she did say so herself.

It wasn’t a typical job for a demon, considering they tended to seek out positions that provided them with control, power, challenges, and respect. Many were lawyers, entrepreneurs, stockbrokers, politicians, bankers, police officers, surgeons, people in the media, or CE-fucking-Os.

Khloé liked power as much as the next demon, but she didn’t crave it. She liked “the smaller things in life.” The strange. The quirky. The fun. Which was why … “God, I badly want a bullshit.”

Harper slanted her head, making her sleek dark hair tumble over her shoulder. “What?”

“A dog that’s half bulldog, half Shih Tzu. I’d call it Winnie.”

“Why Winnie?”

“Because then I could sing ‘Winnie the Bullshit’ to him.”

Devon’s face went all soft and she put a hand to her chest. “Aw, that would be so cute. I can just imagine little Winnie, barking and running and giving us his paw, like a good little bullshit. I think Tanner would love one,” she added, referring to her mate.

Weaving slightly in her seat, Harper snickered at Khloé. “You’re too OCD to cope with a dog peeing and shitting and shedding hairs all over your house.”

“We’ve been over this,” said Khloé. “I’m not OCD. I just value order and precipitation.”

“Precision.”

“That, too.” Khloé frowned at her glass. “Who the hell drank my drink?”

“You did, dufus,” said Devon.

Khloé felt her nose wrinkle. “You sure? My mind says no.” Raini leaned forward, making her striking blonde hair fall around her face like a curtain; the dusky pink highlights glimmered under the lighting. “Hey, want to know a secret?”

Devon’s cat-green eyes gleamed. “Always.”

“You didn’t hear this from me,” began Raini, “but I think we’re smashed.”

“Really? Damn. I just wanted to get buzzed,” said Devon. “I like being buzzed. But I don’t like buzzing sounds. Makes me think of bees. Bees sting you. That’s just mean and—hey, Raini, you’re not listening to me. You gotta listen, because I don’t know sign language. Ooh, we should all learn sign language!”

Harper’s eyes widened. “I’m totally up for that.”

“And we should get more shots,” said Khloé. “I want shots. Anyone else want shots? Okay, shots it is.” She went to stand, but Harper grabbed her arm.

“No more shots for you, missy,” said the sphinx. “You’re already blitzed. No, don’t tell me you’re not. You’re so gone, you didn’t even notice that Keenan’s been glaring at you for the past half hour—he’s standing at the other end of the VIP section with Knox, Tanner, and Levi.”

Oh, Khloé had noticed. She always noticed Keenan Ripley. It was hard to miss over six feet of sculpted muscle, sinful hotness, and uber-masculinity. Especially when it was usually glowering at you. What fun.

As an incubus, sex appeal was literally encoded in his freaking DNA. His compelling, hooded eyes were a striking shade of blue that made Khloé think of shimmering steel. They commanded your attention. Snared your focus. Made all your senses zing to life. And, for most people, they sent a powerful need rushing through your body with the force of a storm.