Her inner demon curled its upper lip in disgust. “Really? How? You knew the women wanted you; you knew they wanted me out of the picture, but you didn’t call out to me or send them on their way immediately. No, you knew you could deal with those situations alone, so you did. How is that any different from what I did?”
“For one thing, I didn’t have them in my old fucking bedroom.”
“Like them being in your office makes much of a difference. You fucked me in there not long ago so, yeah, you don’t get to use that one.”
He advanced on her, closing the distance between them, and pushed into her personal space. “How many times did you imagine those women touching me or vice versa, Harper? Hurt, didn’t it? You didn’t want those pictures in your head, but your imagination went wild on you. What if those pictures hadn’t simply been your imagination at work? What if they had been actual memories that belonged to those women and you knew exactly what I did to them and what they did to me? How well would you have dealt with that?”
Not well at all. Harper would have hated having that shit in her head, but she’d like to think that she wouldn’t have made Knox suffer for it. “Look, I’m sorry you have Drew’s memories—”
“They’re no longer his memories.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I erased them. He no longer remembers what you taste like, how your pussy feels around his fingers, how your breasts felt in his hands, or what you look and sound like when you come.” Knox had thoroughly enjoyed snipping each thread of memory. Drew also had no memory of his reservations about Asher. As long as the hellcat didn’t come into contact with Asher again, Drew never would. “That drunken encounter no longer has a place in his mind.”
It kind of scared Harper that he could completely erase an event from a person’s mind. It made her extremely grateful that she had tough psychic shields that he couldn’t penetrate without shredding his own psyche.
“If Jolene has any sense, she’ll put him on a plane tomorrow and he’ll be gone. But maybe you’re not relieved by that. Maybe you like the attention he gives you. Maybe you even want him.”
Her head jerked back. For a moment, words failed Harper. “Repeat that.” It was a dare. Although he didn’t repeat it, he gave her a look that said he meant every fucking word. An angry flush heated her cheeks. “You son of a bitch.”
“Why else would you willingly be alone with him?”
“I already told you why, so stop with this crap. I won’t pay for your pointless jealousy. I’ve given you no reason not to trust me.”
“Except that you were in a bedroom with another man.”
“Fully dressed. Arguing, because he’d called our son ‘unnatural’ and claimed that he wasn’t a sphinx. I’m assuming he said the same thing to you, since you don’t look surprised by that.”
“Yes, he did. But we’re not talking about Asher, we’re talking about you.”
Harper froze. There had been a brief flash of something in his eyes just then that made a tingling sensation creep up her neck and face. “You were always careful about what you said whenever I mentioned how relieved the Primes were that Asher was a sphinx. You never once referred to him as a sphinx. And whenever Jolene made jokes about how much trouble baby sphinxes were, you never said a word. Just smiled absently or changed the subject.”
Knox said nothing. Just casually tossed back the rest of his gin and tonic.
“You suspect that Asher might not be a sphinx, don’t you? You motherfucker, you do. And you said nothing.” Her demon bared her teeth in the same fury that bubbled through Harper’s veins. It lunged to the surface and glared at him. “You had no right to keep such a thing from us. It’s time you got off your high horse and stopped trying to make her hurt as you hurt. I will put you through a world of pain if you do not.”
If the entity glaring at him had lived within anyone other than his mate, Knox probably would have laughed. No one had ever taken him on and lived to tell the tale, but he would never retaliate against Harper or her demon; he’d never hurt them. In that sense, they had the upper hand. They wouldn’t even need to engage him in a fight—one touch would have him writhing in soul-deep agony. And while he didn’t believe Harper could stomach harming Knox any more than he could stomach harming her, he didn’t doubt that her fierce and protective inner demon would do whatever it took to shield or avenge Harper—even cause him pain.
As if satisfied that its warning had been heard loud and clear, the entity subsided. Then Harper was once again sneering at him. “You don’t even see anything wrong with the fact that you didn’t share this with me, do you?”
“We’re not done talking about Clarke.”
“Oh, we’re done with that,” Harper said, knowing he was stalling for time. “We’re totally done with it. Unless it’s more important to you than our son?”
He didn’t answer. He returned to the small bar and refilled his glass.
“How long, Knox? How long have you suspected Asher isn’t a sphinx?”
“A while. As you know, each demonic breed has an ‘air’ to it. A sort of psychic scent which makes it possible for people to sense what breed of demon they’re facing. That doesn’t mean that all hellhounds smell the same, of course. Similar, yes, but not the same because each person’s psychic scent is that little bit different. Yours is very subtle and elusive, so it’s not simple to ‘read’. It took me a good few minutes to detect that you were a sphinx.” Glass full once again, Knox turned to face her. “Like you, Asher has the air of a sphinx. Like yours, that air isn’t so easy to read.”
“Yeah, he takes after me that way. Lucian’s air is subtle too. I really don’t see where you’re going with this.”
Knox took a swig of his gin and tonic. “Maybe it’s because I’ve walked the Earth a very long time and so have a lot of experience at it, or maybe it’s just something that comes naturally to me, but I can read airs much better than most. I can pick a psychic scent apart and find each individual note.”
“Fascinating. But I still don’t see where this is going.”
“As your anchor, someone who’s psychically bound to you, I know your psychic scent better than anyone else ever could or ever will, Harper. I know every single delicate note to it. And, as Asher’s father and someone who’s touched his mind hundreds of times, I also know every note to his.” Knox took a step toward her. “There are no variations between yours and his. Not a single one. You don’t just have similar psychic scents; you have the exact same one.”
Harper’s breath caught in her throat. “That’s not possible. Maybe he’s able to mimic psychic scents. My cousin can do it. It’s not an uncommon ability, and it certainly doesn’t have to mean that Asher’s not a sphinx.”
“But does your cousin mimic one particular scent twenty-four/ seven? Is it something he even could do?”
Probably not, but Harper shrugged. “If anyone could do it, Asher could. And just because he’s mimicking me doesn’t mean he’s not a sphinx.”
“Which is why I only suspect it. The fact is that demons don’t birth hybrids. A demon is either like their mother or like their father. Asher’s not an archdemon. Can’t be an archdemon, since we’re not born from wombs. If he’s not a sphinx, I don’t see what else he could be. The more abilities he shows, the more clues I have. Individually, the powers tell me nothing. Collectively, they form a picture. So far, I’m still unsure of just what the picture could be.”
Stomach hardening, she swallowed back bile. “What about the black smudge?”
“I didn’t know about that until Clarke mentioned it. He thinks it indicates that Asher isn’t a natural breed of demon. He’s wrong.” Knox swirled his glass and then sipped at his drink. “It’s a veil. A psychic shadow. Its presence could suggest that Asher’s inner demon is disguising itself. I’ve met demons who can cloak themselves. It’s an extremely rare ability, but it’s not limited to a particular breed.”