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He didn’t know what this woman wanted, but something told him it couldn’t be good. Christa had a tendency to walk into his life whenever there was a problem she wanted him to deal with. Another of the many red flags he’d missed while fooling around with her. While he’d thought he was getting what he wanted out of the relationship—a hard fuck with no strings attached—she’d got a lot more from him than he had intended to give her. And that usually involved his fists and some guy’s face as he cleaned up the messes she left behind, most of those messes centring around drooling men who couldn’t take a hint.

Darien gave Ivy a single nod, and she departed with a stern look in Christa’s direction.

“Your sister sure is frightening when she wants to be.”

Darien braced his feet apart and crossed his arms. “Make it quick.”

She took in his body language, gaze snagging on his hands. She could’ve been thinking about a million things in that second, and he didn’t want to know what any of them were. “I thought you might want some insider information about the Wargs,” she began.

Darien smirked. “What are you, a snitch now?”

“I work for Channary.” Not surprising. As if to prove it to him, she lifted her hair, showing off the crescent moon glowing below her right ear. “After Randal’s death, and after completely uprooting my life in Skylen and not exactly wanting to start all over again, I needed to consider my options. And although she helps me pay my bills now, I look out for the people I care about.” Darien didn’t miss the implication behind her words, or the way her eyes roamed his features, as if she’d longed to look at him again for some time now.

“If this is another trick, Christa, so help me—”

“No tricks, Darien. I learned my lesson, believe me.” She drew a deep breath, chest rising. “Look, I don’t know what your plans are from here on out, but neither does anyone else. And if you have any intention of claiming Randal’s title, I would do it soon. Lionel isn’t the only one who has his eyes on the prize, and…he might be the least of your worries.”

Darien frowned. “Channary?”

“Let’s just say Channary is very interested in reaping the benefits that would come with having a seat at the top, and I wouldn’t put it past her to ally with Lionel to see what that power tastes like. The longer you sit on this, the harder it will be for you to win that seat if you let it slip through your fingers.”

“Who says I want it?”

“I’m just suggesting,” she enunciated the word, “that if you have any intention of inheriting what’s rightfully yours, I would do it soon. If Lionel or Channary end up in charge, you know they will destroy the whole pyramid, starting with you.” Her eyes flicked over his shoulder. “You and your family.”

Destroy was a kind way to put it. Channary and Lionel wouldn’t just want Darien and his Devils to leave town—they would want them dead. And they would use Darien’s reluctance to assert his claim over the Darkslaying throne against him, gathering enough allies of their own that no one would challenge them.

“I appreciate the concern, but I can handle this.”

“I have no doubts that you can. I just think you need to make your decision quickly. Wouldn’t want anyone to get hurt.” Something about the way she said it made him believe she was talking about Loren, but she was smart enough to keep his girl’s name out of her mouth.

“If you’re done, I’ve got places to be.”

Darien sensed her aura dimming with disappointment. It told him enough about the memories she was playing in her head, the ones that involved the two of them leaving a place together instead of separately, so they could breathe each other’s air until dawn.

“See you around,” she crooned with a flutter of her fingertips.

Not likely. “Later.” He watched her disappear into the crowd, meeting up with a couple female friends he didn’t recognize, neither of them Darkslayers. She didn’t look his way again.

Ivy was back within the minute, more shots in hand, two in her right and one in her left. “So?”

“She brought a few warnings,” Darien replied. “Mainly ones involving Channary and Lionel.”

“Plotting their takeover of the world?”

“Something like that.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“I’m not. Let’s go. I’ve gotta bag a demon within the hour.” And make it home in time to take Loren to Erasmus’s house for dinner.

Ivy offered him a shot and downed the other two like a champ, one right after the other. Darien threw his back too, liquid burning his chest, and set down the glass. Before they left, Ivy reached across the bar to pluck a lemon wedge from a silver bowl. She sucked on it without a grimace, and then tossed it into the nearest trashcan as they made their way across the dance floor, mist swirling around their legs.

“Breed?” she asked.

“Hound.”

Her head turned his way in a flash. “No way.”