Page 6
The shadowy figure beneath the wolf pelt shifts, and I swear, I see fangs. The demon snaps his fingers again, and time rights itself. The rain finally falls. Gregory and Jake stumble to the ground, no longer looking scared, just dazed. In a heartbeat, shadowy tendrils climb up my thighs and over my chest, swallowing me in a silence so thick, it steals the very air from my throat.
Chapter two
Vesper
Mine.
The word doesn’t just originate in my thoughts. It echoes and vibrates from the dark depths of my soul, dragged up from the ancient abyss where the Devil Dog slumbers. The word isn’t just a thought that vibrates through me; it’s a primal promise that explodes behind my ribcage, flooding my veins with fire.
For two decades, since the night I bound my soul to this ancient hellhound to save it from oblivion, the beast has been a quiet, brooding force inside me. We share blood, magic, and shadow, but it has always been non-verbal and distant. Never once in twenty years has it reacted to a creature on this earth. Not to the high demons of the lower courts, not to the cryptids lurking in the deep redwood canopy, and certainly not to a fragile, bleeding human.
Until now.
Why now?
Why this human?
It recognized something familiar. Inside my chest, the hound clawed at my ribs the moment this human’s blood touched the soil of the crossroads. It growled, thrashing against our shared tether, desperate to break free and devour the men hunting him. I had watched from the tree line, cloaked in fog and shadow, tasting the human’s sheer terror and raw desperation on the damp night air. Even now, the memory of his desperation makes me hard. I had listened as he begged for a miracle, his voice a broken, beautiful weapon that sliced straight through the beast’s feral armor.
Now, as my living shadows pull the dazed human off the muddy ground, he collapses instantly against my chest. His body is freezing, soaked through with rain, trembling so violently I can feel the chatter of his teeth against my shoulder.
I wrap my arm around his waist, hoisting him effortlessly against my chest. He’s impossibly light, his head slumping into the crook of my neck. His lips unconsciously graze my skin. The touch is intimate. Unexpected.
In the forest below us, time unfreezes with a sharp, audible pop. The rain crashes down in a deafening torrent once more. Down the muddy trail, Gregory and his surviving goon stumble forward, gasping for air as if emerging from underwater. They look around wildly, their flashlights flickering back on and cutting uselessly through the swirling fog.
“Where the fuck did he go?” Gregory screams. His voice is high and shrill with panic as he stares at the empty mud where his victim had been kneeling seconds ago. Confusion etches across his face. He catches sight of TJ’s broken, mangled corpse wedged against the base of the redwood and pales, stumbling backward. “Get to the damn truck! Move! Fucking move!”
I sneer beneath the dark hood of my wolf pelt. Fucking pathetic. In the blink of an eye, my claws could rip through Gregory’s chest and crush his heart. I could unleash the shadow hound and let it tear his limbs off one by one, painting the ancient redwoods with his corrupt blood.
The beast inside me roars in agreement, clawing at my throat, demanding blood. Kill them. Tear them apart. Feed them to me.
“Patience. We have time for them later,” I murmur to the hound. “Your human begged for our protection, and the fragile thing is about to freeze to death.” Taking a deep breath, I rein in its wild thrashing with a tight yank of my magic.
Besides, the little creature in my arms needs me.
I look down at the human tucked against my side. His eyelashes are long, dark, and sprinkled with rain, resting against skin that’s far too pale. Pretty, yet pale. I want to see that color return and flush under his skin.
Even unconscious, his body clings to mine, instinctively seeking the heat radiating from my skin.
With a flick of my wrist, the shadows at our feet pool together into an oily black abyss. The world shifts, folding in on itself with a nauseating tear of spatial magic. The cold scent of pine and ocean vanishes, replaced instantly by the warm air of my sanctuary. My home.
We materialize in the vast, vaulted entrance hall of my Gothic estate high on the ridge. High above us, vaulted archways stretch into the shadowy gloom, and the stone hearths crackle with their unnatural bluish-red flames. The air here smells of cinnamon, dry cedar, and cloves.
The moment the vortex, or whatever the hell it is, snaps shut behind us, the sudden shift in energy reverberates through the estate.
Footsteps echo softly in the distance. The quiet, discreet movements of my household staff. They are creatures of shadow and ancient pacts, bound to serve the demon who saved them. Shadows flicker along the grand stone staircase, and a few whispery, curious voices ripple through the ambient gloom.
“My Lord?” a timid voice breathes from the gallery above. “You’ve returned—”
“Get out,” I roar, my voice dropping an octave into a gravelly demon register that shakes the ancient chandeliers overhead.
The command carries both the weight of the thrashing Devil Dog inside of me and the absolute authority of my command. Shadows recoil along the walls. The quiet murmurs vanish instantly. Within seconds, the entire estate falls into terrified silence. Everyone stays out of sight. No one dares look at the human cradled in my arms.
I need privacy. The beast inside me is pacing in tight, agitated circles, its territorial possessiveness so high that my skin feels like it is on fire. It doesn’t want other eyes on our guest. It wants him hidden. Mine. Only mine.
Ignoring the hound, I carry the human up the grand sweeping staircase. My boots thud against the dark rug. With every step, I feel the fragile pulse hammering against his neck.
When I reach my private wing, the large oak doors open before me, responding to my magic. I step into my quarters and head straight for the massive, four-poster bed against the far wall. I lower him gently onto the soft duvet and brush the wet hair from his face.
