Waking the Dead

Evernight Publishing www.evernightpublishing.com

Copyright© 2011 Renee Silvana

ISBN: 978-1-927368-12-1

Cover Artist: LF Designs Editor: Kimberly Bowman

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews. This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

DEDICATION To all the family, friends and critique partners who helped me find my voice. Without your encouragement, this would still seem an unattainable dream.

WAKING THE DEAD The Hounds of Annwyn, 1 Renee Silvana

Copyright © 2011

Chapter One

A hound bayed in the distance. Adrian’s ears pricked toward the sound, listening beyond the familiar chorus of the forest. Nearby, a door mouse scampered in the underbrush. A few yards from where he stood, he spied a horned owl perched on the bottom rung of a maple tree. She rustled her feathers, prepared to swoop in as soon as the rodent made the fatal error of slipping out into the open. A gentle breeze ruffled through Adrian’s fur. He reveled in the sensation, feeling most at home in this environment. The cool dampness of the early autumn twilight aided the listening hunter. The dense night air amplified the sounds of scurrying, scratching, breathing, lapping, crawling, and slithering, all so subtle during the daylight hours. The moon hung bright and low on the horizon, its full face peeking through the trees, providing just enough light so Adrian could adjust his eyes. It streamed through the trees in gentle cylinders illuminating the forest floor, making him feel warm and at home in his wild surroundings. Adrian lifted his nose to the black velvet sky, willing the wind to bring a scent in his direction. His efforts were unrewarded, and he uttered a low growl in frustration.

The task of capturing necromancers who had crossed the line, witches who summoned demons, wasn’t an easy one. It was Adrian’s duty as Alpha to bring the witch to justice. In his own hellhound shape, Adrian’s thoughts formed mostly as images that, as a human, he might go so far as to call emotion. The picture flashing behind his lupine eyes, the lithe shape of a shadowed human just beyond his reach, echoed frustration and discontent. His jaw clenched. The scent he’d picked up earlier had been distinctly female and dangerously familiar, the delicious combination of sandalwood and cinnamon mixed in with the toxic sulfuric stench of a demon conjuration in progress. The image formed in his mind. Dark brown curls framing a heart-shaped face, wide hazel eyes and full lips that begged to be consumed. But the most devastating feature was the way her waist pinched above her feminine, curvy hips, perfectly fitted to his own hands. He recognized her. Damn it, Miriam! An hour earlier, Adrian had lost contact with Jacob Drake, the young hellhound who had insisted he be a part of this mission. Adrian knew his nephew was too inexperienced, but the pup had his genetic stubbornness and didn’t take no for an answer. Though Adrian preferred to work alone and keep his pack out of danger, he knew there was a very real possibility Jacob might someday take his place at the helm, and the longer Jacob ran as a working hellhound, the better leader he’d become. As the alpha of his pack, Adrian shared a direct mental connection to any hound in the group, but Jacob had been unresponsive. Adrian had met with a psychic wall when he’d reached out to Jacob’s mind, meaning that he was either asleep or under a spell. And there was only one reason that a witch would want to put a hellhound under a spell. Adrian swallowed hard, as if he could numb the guilt that roiled in his stomach. The last thing he wanted to do tonight was to explain to Ashley how he had failed to protect her twin brother. Suddenly, Adrian became aware that a heavy silence had settled over the forest. His sharp eyes picked out the wide,

glowing orbs of the door mouse that now stood impossibly still under a bush. Adrian rotated his ears, listening carefully to no avail. The forest was covered in a blanket of silence. The crickets had stopped their humming, and even the wind that gently rustled the drying leaves had paused in anticipation of what the hunter knew was to come. A howl tore through the silence like a siren. His hackles rose, and despite himself, a deadly snarl rumbled in his throat. The demon had been conjured. Holding back another growl, Adrian moved on, keeping his body close to the ground but maneuvering quickly through the undergrowth of the forest. Even with his speed, he stepped cautiously around the already dried leaves of the early upstate New York autumn. He sniffed the ground and air carefully, trying to pick up any trail. Following the direction of the howl, Adrian kept moving until a scent hit his nostrils. His brain rushed to process the smells whirling through his keen nose. Leaves, standing water, a slumbering rabbit nearby, and finally… The acrid stench of sulfur filled his nostrils. Adrian’s fur stood on end. Despite decades of experience holding back demons, each conjuration was unique, even when facing the same damned being for a second or third time. A clearing opened up in the dense woods, and in the middle stood three figures. A hellhound lay bound by silverwoven ropes, huddling inside the white-lined summoning circle. Adrian recognized him by scent and sight. Barely having reached adulthood and in one of his first full morphs, Jacob was the perfect target for a necromancer to overpower. Disgust filled Adrian as he took in the scene. Jacob’s eyes were locked on the cloaked witch, his teeth bared slightly. He was under her spell. The second form, the demon’s, was a dark silhouette against a glowing yellow haze, the aftermath of his summoning. It was as if the creature had brought a piece of hell with him. Even the earth rejected the being, whose feet

hovered inches above the ground. The demon was forbidden from ever setting even a single, putrid toe on the sacred earth. And there, in the center of the magickal circle that protected her and the hellhound from the demon, she stood. Miriam. Her eyes were closed, brows knitted together as she chanted the ritual that would maintain the integrity of her circle’s boundary while the demon answered to the summoning’s call. She must wait until her spell put him completely under her control. If she stepped foot outside the circle before then, the beast would tear her apart as punishment for bringing him into the world. Demons, unlike the ancestral spirits witches normally conjured, did not like being summoned against their will. Miriam, you lied to me! The witch had haunted his dreams for years. Her perfect curves and her sweet, innocent face played the leading role in his fantasies. Miriam had come from a long line of powerful witches, and yet as far as he knew, she had never called upon a single spirit. Much less a demon. She had claimed she would never summon, could never summon. Even with Adrian present at her first and presumably last attempt at divination, she claimed she was unable to call on an ancestor spirit. She had lied. Suddenly, the chanting stopped. The familiar, heavy silence filled the meadow. "We have a visitor," spoke the monstrosity. "Master," the word was like venom, "would it please you that we see to it?" Miriam's eyes snapped open. "Be rid of the fiend." The words tore through to Adrian's core. Her voice, so unlike the dulcet cadence he was used to, barely broke a whisper, yet his sensitive ears could pick up the contempt in her words. At another time, he may have adored her. Here and now, though it killed him to consider, she became his enemy.

Pain racked through Adrian's body before he could respond to her challenge. Every cell in him was on fire, every nerve ending ignited. The intensity of the pain the demon inflicted on him forced the change, and his naked, human shape broke through as his bones and muscles reformed. "Years," the demon whispered in his ear. Through the pain, Adrian didn't notice his approach. "We have waited years for you, cŵn." It cackled, and the burning under his skin increased tenfold. Adrian fell to his knees, groaning in agony. But he held back the scream welling in his chest as he faced the demon, its dark flesh dripping as a rotting corpse’s might. "You are no match for us, hound. We will revel in your agony as you die a slow death, and your soul will be a trophy in our kingdom." "Never!" Adrian cried, fighting through the pain to gather his energy and focus it back on shifting. “Give in to us, cŵn,” the shaded form cackled. Towering eight feet overhead, the monstrous humanoid lowered his face mere inches from Adrian. The deformed mouth twisted in a perverse grin, sulfurous smoke drifting from the gaping orifice. “You may send me back, but you can never destroy me.” The demon lurched forward, arms extended. Adrian ducked quickly, his human bones snapping back into their hellhound shape within seconds. The change was effortless for him now, after thousands and thousands of shifts. Even through the incomparable pain of the demon’s power infiltrating his body, Adrian was able to slip back into his canine form. Relief flooded through him. Jacob, Adrian sent out, hoping the younger hellhound had developed the telepathic connection now that he could change. I need your help to bind the demon while I distract him. You’re protected inside the circle. I don’t know how it happened, came the thin reply. Jacob was a strong fighter, nearly equaling Adrian when the two were in human form. I didn’t hear her coming. She was behind me, and she bound my hands. I thought it was just rope. Gods, I didn’t realize it was woven with silver. She put a

binding spell on me, Adrian. Then I don’t know what happened. I think we may have… May have what? Adrian let too much anger leak out. Did you sleep with her, Jacob? The demon swept a massive arm, knocking Adrian to the ground. He recovered quickly, rolling back onto all four feet and leaping at the demon’s jugular, teeth bared. I was under her spell. Jacob’s voice was getting weaker. But gods, she was beautiful The beast howled with laughter even as Adrian’s teeth dug into the tender, rotting flesh, pulling a chunk of his throat out with it. Even if he couldn’t destroy it permanently, he’d do as much damage as he could to slow it down. At least until the young hellhound across the clearing could figure out how to control the demon. Tamping his jealousy down, Adrian struggled to collect his thoughts. Forget her. She’s as good as dead now for what she did to you. I need you to focus on the bastard that’s about to tear me apart, because she’s using her link to you to open the portal. Rearing back, Adrian lunged at the rotting mass of a demon, trying to buy time. If Jacob had slept with the witch as he admitted, that meant she’d developed his ability to call spirits and demons from the Otherworld. Jacob, now! The strained howl of the weakened hellhound pierced through the clearing. To a mortal ear, the pitch would be painful, bringing even the strongest man to his knees. To a demon, it was a death knell. “Hound of Annwyn,” croaked the demon. “Do not consider this our last meeting.” The creature appeared to explode into a flock of small black birds. Their wings flapped in an extraordinary chorus as they disappeared into the eastern sky. For now, Adrian was safe. Adrian trotted over to the circle and shifted back into a bipedal form. It came as no surprise to him to find Jacob, now human and unconscious, alone in the circle. Miriam was gone. Summoning a spirit was one thing, but there was nothing benevolent about calling on a demon, especially if it

involved stealing energy from a hellhound. The punishment for both crimes was the same. Sex with a hellhound was even more damning, forbidden by both hellhound and witches alike. In one fell swoop, Miriam had broken every law the hellhounds and witches had established to allow them to work amicably. Adrian pounded his fist into the earth and swore, both from the physical pain and from the ache in his gut when he thought of Miriam’s punishment. Miriam would be judged. And if his elders had their way, she would be put to death.

Chapter Two

Miriam Spencer held the phone a few inches from her ear as her friend’s voice squealed from the other side of the line. Even the thick buffer of her curly hair hanging loose wasn’t enough to filter out the piercing tones. Conversations with Isabelle were becoming an extreme sport, especially pertaining to her friend’s post-engagement sex life. “I don’t know what I’m going to tell Pieter,” Isabelle sighed. “Beltane is only half a year away, and our handfasting ceremony is already in the books. Can you imagine that,” she huffed. “An adulterous witch for a High Priestess.” Miriam shook her head to herself, twisting her fingers in one of her curls. Her ears were beginning to ache from the pitch her friend was hitting, and it seemed to be getting higher and higher the longer she went on. She could imagine Isabelle throwing her hands in the air as she spoke, the model-like, pixie-haired witch fully animated as always. “Do you know what they used to do to unfaithful wives in the community? I could be bound to never cast a spell again, then I’m completely useless!” She paused. “Oh! Miriam, I didn’t mean it like that.” Miriam tried to blow it off, but the comment stung. “No, it’s fine. The rules are archaic, anyway, a relic of the past. And if you’re chosen for High Priestess, you’ll be able to change those rules.” Isabelle was young, but her lineage was famous for producing powerful witches, many of whom were chosen for the position of highest honor in the community. Isabelle rambled on again about the man she met at a pre-Samhain gathering. It was a time for planning more than merrymaking, when much of the local magickal community assembled. It was also a time for witches that delved into the more dangerous art of divination to seek permission from the guardians of the gates to the spirit world, the hellhounds. Though not necessary for conjuring spirits, it was a practice in politeness—if a conjuring went bad, the hellhounds were the ones who had to clean up after the witch’s mess.

The invitation also ensured the continued alliance between the region’s witches and hellhounds – one that didn’t fare quite as well in other parts of the country, and in the world, where the witches believed conjuring was their Goddess-given right and the hellhounds served their gods by preventing it from happening altogether. “Oh, shit!” Isabelle exclaimed. “Hey, I’ve got to run. Can I hold onto to shirt I borrowed from you? I think it helped out last night.” There was a wink in her voice. Miriam hung up the phone and pulled the pot of spoiled breakfast off the stove. The hot cereal was far too rubbery to be considered a meal. She rummaged through the freezer for a packaged breakfast wrap then tossed it in the microwave. It wasn’t the first time she wished the mere wrinkling of her nose would summon up a well-balanced meal. Or anything, for that matter. And as the black sheep in her magickal community, Miriam needed all the allies she could gather. While her peers growing up were learning to cast spells as early as some children would be going off to pre-school, Miriam’s mother insisted she learn how to blend in with nonmagickal humans and play with blocks and dollhouses instead. Isabelle had been the closest thing to a friend Miriam had ever known. More often than not, she was merely an ear for Isabelle to brag about her indiscriminate behavior. Because Miriam kept herself on the outskirts of the coven, she must have seemed safe for Isabelle to unload to. It was her mother’s way of helping Miriam to adapt to the life she would ultimately lead one day, since Miriam was born without the inclination to perform magick. “Completely useless,” she repeated Isabelle’s words. The sky outside was grey, the heavy fog from the morning chill still lying thick over the streets. Autumn came and went quickly in upstate New York, and being midOctober, the beautiful foliage was already on its way out. Why this had become such a popular place for witches to gather, she had no idea. If she had it her way, the community would

be built up in south Florida, or Bermuda. Someplace where winter was a legend and not a nine-months-a-year reality. After breakfast, Miriam hopped in the shower. She thought best when she stood under the hot, running water and used the time to plan her day. Work wasn’t until later in the evening, when she helped her mother close their jointly-owned shop selling herbs, gems, divination tools, and books to the magickal and nonmagickal community alike. Her mother hadn’t practiced magick since Miriam was conceived, at least not in the capacity of the others in the community. Rhada Spencer still followed the rituals associated with the seasons and cross-quarters, and paid homage to the spirits that guided her family asking for their continued protection. She insisted Miriam do the same. Miriam didn’t know why her mother stopped divining, but she assumed it had something to do with her father. Her mother never spoke of him, and Miriam never asked. Any man who would abandon a woman as giving and sweet as Rhada wasn’t worth tracking down to send a Father’s Day card to. Rinsing out the last bit of her conditioner, she turned the water off and towel-dried quickly. The tiled bathroom, decorated with a beach theme that reminded her of the paradise she would rather be living in, was quick to cool in the fall, so she wanted to finish while the air was still warm from the shower. She looked in the mirror and rubbed her cheeks until they turned pink. Her summer tan was already fading, the pallor of her natural skin tone returning with a vengeance. The dark, curly hair that now hung limp and damp around her face exaggerated how pale her skin was. She liked the color, though, because it brought out the green in her hazel eyes. It also meant her brows needed constant attention because of how starkly they stood out against her light complexion. Tweezing the hair out of her sensitive skin was her least favorite grooming ritual. “It’s been awhile, witch.” Miriam gasped at the menacing words, dropping the tweezers, which fell into the ceramic sink and clanged loudly a

few times before settling over the drain. She spun around and faced the source of the voice. “Adrian,” she whispered, recognizing the hellhound Alpha immediately. He filled the door to the bathroom. Tall, dark, and handsome didn’t begin to describe him. Adrian Mason dripped sexuality, and at nearly six and a half feet tall, he made Miriam feel so small, so vulnerable. His dark brown hair hung loose just inches above his broad shoulders and the stubble along his masculine jaw gave him a wild, rugged appearance. Though he looked to be in his early thirties at most, she knew he was nearly half a century older than that. And his smell. Gods, a deep, woodsy cedar emanated from him, and her body reacted to it like a pheromone. Less than a minute in his presence and her knees were already trembling. But she was pretty sure he wasn’t there on a courtesy visit. “You lied to me,” he said menacingly, the words like daggers stabbing deep into her heart. He inhaled deeply. His black cotton t-shirt, meant to be loose fitting, struggled to contain his well-muscled chest. “You said you didn’t have the ability to summon.” Miriam gripped onto the sink before her legs gave way. What is wrong with me? “Because I can’t summon. I’ve never divined at all. I can’t even use a dowsing rod without putting someone’s eye out, and that doesn’t really necessitate magick.” He bared his teeth, and she swore she heard a growl form deep in his chest. She drew back, making herself as small as possible. At barely five-foot three, that wasn’t too difficult, but he moved closer, bringing his face mere inches from her own. The cold ceramic of the bathroom counter dug into the small of her back. “I saw you last night,” he said, his voice low. “You and Jacob. Near the Six-Mile Creek. I saw Jacob shackled at your feet like an animal and saw you run like a coward when we cast your demon back to hell.” Her jaw dropped at the allegations. Never before had she felt so helpless. She squeaked, “I’ve never even performed

a summoning before or even casted a stupid protection spell. You know I can’t. You even assisted me once.” The humiliating reminder of the only time she’d attempted a fullblown divination with the aid of a hellhound flashed in her mind. They had almost been friends once, several years earlier when Miriam was “coming out” as an adult witch at the Beltane feast. Her eyes had been drawn to the dark, brooding hellhound, and now she could hardly remember how she’d invoked the courage to introduce herself to him. In hindsight, she recalled her mother’s subtle pushing across the room, insisting it was polite for the Alpha hellhound to know who would be conjuring within his region. It was equally polite for him to offer one of his pack to act as her familiar for her first conjuring. Though she never expected Adrian to offer his own service to her. Miriam fancied the attraction was mutual. And after hours of them standing in the uncomfortably close quarters of the summoning circle, she was sure it was. She recalled the way his fingers brushed against hers as he helped her draw the circle in the grass, and the sharp inhalation when his arm brushed against her breast. It still gave her butterflies and fueled her fantasies. But a romance between them was forbidden, and while a part of her was devastated when he suggested she find a new familiar, Miriam knew it was for the best. Yet she never attempted to divine again. Adrian shook his head and moved his hair from his face in a sudden, sharp movement that made Miriam flinch. “Unable to conjure, so you’ve told me. I saw you invoke a demon last night. When Jacob is free of that spell you cast on him, he’ll confirm my story. I need answers from you personally before word gets out that the Little Witch That Couldn’t is conjuring demons and enchanting innocent young hellhounds like Jacob to keep their mouths shut.” “Jacob,” she gasped. “Is he all right? Goddess, I didn’t even know he could shift yet.” He was too young, too inexperienced to be out there on his own without the

protection of his pack. As big as he was, physically a fullgrown man, in the world of the hellhounds where life expectancy ran into two or three centuries, Jacob was still considered very young. “Necromancer,” Adrian nearly spat. “You witches are nothing but blood-sucking necromancers.” Miriam’s face burned. The word he called her was the highest insult for any witch who practiced divination as an art. She knew the hellhounds saw it as nothing more than simply raising the dead in a truth-seeking game, likening them to the sorcerers who caused trouble in the western parts of the country. “Don’t use words you don’t know the meaning of, pup.” Adrian laughed, the sound harsh and abrupt. “Do you think I’m so naïve to believe the witches invite us to their little Samhain parties just to be polite, even though they know we don’t celebrate your damn holidays? Face it, Miriam. You witches have used us as the clean-up crew for centuries.” “We don’t use you,” Miriam defended, but her argument was half-hearted. She knew only the most seasoned witches could complete a safe conjuring without the assistance of the gatekeepers, the hellhounds. Not that they would be permitted to by law, even if they could. “Those are your rules, Alpha. The hellhounds monitor our spirit contact to make sure they are properly bound and sent back to Annwyn, or…” Or the other place. She was afraid to speak of it. “What you summoned last night was not an ancestor from Annwyn.” Adrian grabbed her arm. “Nothing that vile would be welcome in paradise. And it wasn’t properly bound, either. When we’re through making sure you’re safely contained, the hellhounds are going to have quite a job cleaning up the mess you made.”

Chapter Three

“Where are you taking me?” Miriam asked as Adrian dragged her out the front door. “Not outside! I’ve got nothing on under this robe!” Adrian gritted his teeth. He didn’t need to know that. “We’re going to the council. I’m under orders to bring you there for containment until Jacob is well enough to make an accusation against you and to confirm my story that I saw you conjure a demon.” “This is crazy,” she muttered but didn’t attempt to pull away. Instead, she wrapped her free arm around her breasts, holding them in place. The chilly air brought her nipples to peaks that poked through the thin fabric of her robe, taunting Adrian as he forced his gaze on the street ahead. She clearly wore no bra to restrain the luscious twin mounds as she ran to keep up with his long stride. Her scent had been driving him mad since the moment he stepped foot on her small, suburban block. Last night, the cinnamon-sandalwood combination of her perfume had been merely familiar. Today, it was downright lethal. Her musk, the intoxicating bouquet he was unable to pick up on last night, likely masked by the stench of the demon, sent blood straight to his cock and brought his beast close to the surface. With his face so close to her, it took every bit of his restraint to tamp down the urge to bend her over the sink and plunge deep into her while she clawed at the counter screaming his name. Even a female hellhound in heat didn’t have this effect on him. What was it about this woman? The streets of her neighborhood were empty, for which Adrian was mildly grateful. Not so much that he must have looked like he might be an abusive boyfriend to her neighbors but more for the fact that fewer people would be able to see Miriam only half-dressed. He felt only he should have that privilege. What?

Adrian pushed the thought aside and quickened his pace. After a few blocks, Miriam spoke between breaths, panting as she seemed to have to run to keep up with his stride. “How far are we going?” “The cemetery is about a quarter mile from here.” He turned around for the first time since they’d left her bathroom to look at her. He’d been deliberately avoiding it. Smelling her was tough enough, but seeing the face of the woman he adored, the woman whose fate he was now responsible for, would be his ruin. And he was right. Her lips were practically turning blue and she was shivering, her hair still damp from the shower. Adrian noticed now she wasn’t even wearing slippers, her feet turning pink from running barefoot along the cold concrete. “We’re almost there,” he repeated, as if that would give her any comfort. “And what’s in the cemetery when we get there? Did you already dig my grave?” Miriam huffed, but her annoyance was feigned. Her voice quavered, giving away her apprehension. “The cemetery is the easiest place to bring humans through to Annwyn. You’ll be judged there, and we’ll determine what your fate will be.” Adrian clenched his jaw. “How many times do I have to tell you? I can’t summon. I was at my store all yesterday evening taking inventory then I paid close to three hundred invoices. I went straight home. I didn’t even sleep five hours last night, I had to—” Miriam’s voice ended abruptly in a shrill scream. “What the fuck is that!” In the middle of the suburban road, spreading outward, was what Adrian could only describe as a hole. It wasn’t just a gap, the hole itself appeared to be a substance that looked like a liquid shadow. Tiny tendrils from the “hole” gripped onto the street, pulling the asphalt down into itself and growing larger by the second. Adrian let go of Miriam’s arm as a deep growl rumbled in his chest. “This is a portal for your demon, and this

is why you’ll be punished for summoning him. When demons aren’t properly bound by their necromancers, they can come and go as they please.” The circle grew; the edge now not more than twenty feet from where they stood. “Cŵn Annwyn,” boomed a voice from somewhere in the depths of the shadow. “Give us.” Miriam gripped Adrian’s arm. “What do they want?” He pushed her gently away, preparing to change. “Honey, you tell me. These are your minions.” She opened her mouth to speak, but before she could respond, a howl tore from Adrian’s chest. His muscles contracted and stretched, his bones reshaped themselves into a quadrupedal form. The tips of his fingers and toes grew and extended into sharp points. Fur sprouted at lightening speed from his flesh as his clothing tore away from his robust, canine form. Human thoughts faded as the hunter took over. Adrian lifted his muzzle and sniffed, sulfur hitting his nose. The scent of his prey was strong, and he was ready to fight. He faced the hole in the ground. From the shadows, the shape of a black hand emerged, composed of the same odd liquid-like substance. As it pulled itself from the ground, the shadow faded and the form took on a more solid appearance. Shade turned into flesh, blue and venous, rotting and dripping. The hand turned into an arm, the arm into a head and torso. Gaping black depressions took the place of eyes and a cavity stood in for a nose. Its jaw hung as if on a loose hinge, stuck in a permanent expression of surprise and horror, or of some kind of malevolent intent. Adrian’s fur bristled and he growled ominously. He took a few steps closer, only to stop. Two more hands and arms reached out from the shadow, then another pair. They solidified as they pulled themselves to their feet. The triplet demons cackled and spoke in unison. “Give us!” Adrian leapt at the closest demon, clamping his strong mandible around its leg and tearing aggressively. The rotten flesh peeled off easily into Adrian’s mouth. A dog performing

the same action would meet skin as tough as granite, but for a hellhound, the demons were strong yet breakable. A second demon attacked him from behind, tearing at Adrian’s flank. The hellhound yelped and kicked his strong back legs, sending the creature flying backward into the portal it had emerged from. Something isn’t right, he thought briefly, continuing to lash at the two remaining demons. They shouldn’t be this easy to stave off. “Adrian!” The piercing scream broke the hunter’s concentration. Adrian turned around and saw Miriam. A second portal had opened nearby, and two more shadows were emerging, inching toward her. These were the demons Miriam had summoned. She controlled them, had ordered them to interfere with her capture so that she could escape the judgment Adrian brought her to face. This was the truth he tried to convince himself of, anyway, but if it was true, why was she still standing by? Why hadn’t she run when he was first attacked? Why was she their target? Miriam, run! Adrian knew she wouldn’t be able to make the telepathic connection with him that he shared with his hellhound brethren, but he willed her legs to move. She wouldn’t be able to outrun them, but he prayed it would buy them both time. As if she had heard, she darted down the street, the demons in close pursuit. He dodged a blow from one of the twin demons and used the feint to counter-attack. The second demon fell back into the abyss. The third reached forward and grabbed at Adrian’s throat. Smoke rose from the beast’s palm as it warmed rapidly, burning into the fur and singeing Adrian’s flesh. Thrashing his head from side to side, he was able to break free of the demon’s grip and made a quick attack at his enemy’s throat. Adrian watched as the final demon disappeared into the shadow. “Adrian, help!” Without thought, he sprinted down the road in the direction Miriam had escaped. The two demons had her by the

arms dragging her toward the shadow-hole as she kicked and screamed. He closed the distance between them quickly, but by the time he approached, Miriam was already sinking into the abyss with her captors. Her mouth was open, but the dark gaseous material that surrounded her absorbed the sound. At the edge of the hole, Adrian reached as far as he could, trying to grab her with his teeth. The distance was too much. Quickly, he shifted back into human form, ignoring the cold asphalt against his flesh as he stretched his naked body toward Miriam. “Grab my hand,” he yelled as he extended his arm into the shadow. The shadow was colder than the air around it, and it pierced his skin. Miriam had disappeared, but he could feel delicate fingers brushing against his hand, unable to maintain a firm grip. “You’re not getting away that easily!” Stretching himself further into the glacial shadow, he grabbed blindly, beginning to lose sensation in his hands as the shadow seemed to suck the heat right from his skin. He rejoiced when he met warm, soft flesh, and with all his might, he pulled the trembling, freezing Miriam onto the pavement beside him. As her feet emerged, the hole closed. Adrian’s heart raced, adrenaline still coursing through his veins. Miriam was spread out on the ground beside him. She was faced down, and her breathing was rapid, but at least she was breathing. And alive. He stood and found the shreds of his clothes. The black t-shirt was torn beyond use, but mercifully his pants were still more or less intact. More than fifty years of shifting from human to hellhound had destroyed his fair share of clothing, but he was able to do it with minimal damage now. Buttoning his jeans, he looked down at the unmoving mass of black curls and white silk. “Can you walk?” Miriam was shaking as she spoke into the concrete. “After that, you’re still going to bring me to Annwyn for judgment? I’d like to take a cab, then.” She rolled onto her back and struggled to sit up.

“I’m not taking you to Annwyn.” He reached down and helped Miriam to her feet. Any other woman in her position might faint or cry, but Miriam stood firmly beside him, shivering from the cold. “We’re not going anywhere until I figure out what the hell is going on.” Trembling a little, Miriam slipped her hand around the crook of his arm. How could this woman who had just seen him in his monstrous form choose to lean on him for support? “You’re not going to leave me in the middle of the street in my pajamas, are you?” “No. You’re coming home with me. And you won’t be leaving until I have some answers.”

Chapter Four

At least Adrian was enough of a gentleman to bring Miriam home for another set of clothes. After half an hour of protesting by taking her second shower for the day, washing deliberately slowly because she knew it annoyed him, she finally gave in to Adrian’s demand that she leave the house. By the time she was dressed, the sun had already begun to set. Adrian took Miriam’s car keys and drove them to his house, a two-story red brick home that had a colonial flair. “I didn’t realize hellhounds lived in houses,” she prodded him. “I always assumed you lived in mausoleums or something.” Good-humored, he responded, “That is only a myth. We live in houses, but we take our lunch in the cemetery.” He still wore no shirt, giving Miriam the chance to admire his well-defined stomach and chest, his broad shoulders, the corded muscles in his arms. Adrian wasn’t bulky like a body-builder, but his size was still intimidating. Miriam was horrified with herself. Maybe she’d fantasized about the hellhound in the past, but after today, after he had falsely accused her of committing the most dangerous action in her community–intentionally putting others in harm’s way, ignoring the Threefold Law–how could she still be attracted to him? Seeing Adrian shift for the first time had been less frightening than she expected it would be. Miriam had seen shifted hounds before. A typical hellhound was about the size of a large Doberman, but Adrian was positively huge. His haunches were at least four feet off the ground, and though his head was lowered the entire time, she was certain fully stretched out, he would tower over her. His fur was sleek, black as the shadows the demons had emerged from, yet shimmering under the daylight as if each individual strand of his fur burned from within. His powerful muscles rippled under the fur when he launched at the demons, and the barbs extending from his spine like spikes made him look unearthly. Still, he was beautiful, if not insufferable.

A little frustrated he was in a good mood given the circumstances, Miriam continued. “That’s the part I don’t understand. Obviously spirits and demons can be conjured anywhere a necromancer wants to—I mean witch,” she caught herself using that depraved word the hellhound enjoyed so much. “Why do you hounds spend so much time guarding cemeteries?” He unlocked the door to his home and led her inside. The house had a very masculine appeal to it, simplistic and earth-toned. Not like she expected much else from a man, let alone one that spend the majority of his time outdoors. Everything had a place and a purpose, and there was nothing excessive. From the foyer, they looked in on the living room, which was sparsely furnished with a tan sofa, covered with a leaf-printed throw. Across from the sofa sat a dark wooden coffee table. Matching bookshelves lined the far wall, filled with titles she couldn’t distinguish from her vantage. The faint smell of burning wood confirmed a fireplace, and a rack of dried wood sat on the hearth. On the wall was a generic print of a cottage beside a stream in a colorful forest. She was pretty sure he didn’t pick that out for himself, as it stood in such stark contrast to the rest of the room. As she looked around, Adrian explained that the hellhounds were not merely guardians of the door to the Otherworld, but also guides. “Death is a traumatic time for the soul, and few are able to find their way without guidance. Most souls will stick with a body for as long as possible,” he continued with a slight shrug. “And when they make it to the cemetery, well, someone needs to show them the way to Annwyn.” “And for those that don’t believe in Annwyn?” Adrian shook his head as he bent down to pick mail up off the floor. Miriam’s eye widened a bit, regarding his tight buttocks that flexed even with such a simple movement. Focus! “Annwyn is just a placeholder, Miriam. It’s not a claim that your Summerland, or Heaven, or Hades, or the Kingdom of the Dead is any more correct than the other. Only the spirits

who have made it over there know what it is, and for the most part, they’re content with where they are.” “What about the demons, though?” “Evil is ubiquitous, Miriam. Let’s just leave it at that.” He looked at her face and must have detected the fear she felt for the creatures. The threat was too near for her to just “leave it.” “Rest assured,” he said, putting a comforting hand on her arm sending a bolt of warmth of a whole other kind straight through to her core. “You’re completely safe here. Nothing can penetrate these walls.” Adrian excused himself to change and pointed her toward the kitchen, letting her know where she could find a kettle and tea if she wanted to make a pot. Her teeth were still chattering a little from the cold, and a hot cup of chamomile was too tempting to turn down. A hot male body would do better for me, she thought longingly. Their relationship, if it could even be called that, had been so brief it was ridiculous for her to hope he still had feelings toward her. Never mind a relationship between the two of them was forbidden by her community’s tradition and by the mandate of his own pack to keep the bloodline pure. Miriam simmered over that thought, knowing many of the male hellhounds took humans as mates because female hellhounds by birth were genetically rare. Adrian stepped into the kitchen and went straight for the small breakfast table, where he picked up a newspaper that had been left open to a crossword puzzle in progress. The act was so mundane, as if he were unbothered with her being in his kitchen at the stove, as if it were exactly where she belonged. Not just in the kitchen, anyway, but in his home at all, sharing his space. Something that could never happen, thanks to their laws. Old, archaic laws. The same ones that attempted to keep women from attaining power at every corner. The same laws that would prevent Isabelle from ever becoming High Priestess if the elders discovered her tryst. Never mind that her

fiancé could take multiple partners while the same council looked the other way and blessed him as High Priest. She milled about the kitchen in silence, washing a mug half filled with hours-old coffee, then rinsing off several other dishes. Every once in awhile, she’d peek over her shoulder if she thought, maybe, he was watching her. She was disappointed that he never was. The kettle whistled, breaking the heavy, awkward silence. “Did you want some tea?” Good, avoid eye contact with him. If you don’t look, you won’t want him. “I’m fine. Thank you, though.” “I didn’t poison it, I promise. I’ll sip it first for you, if you need me to prove it.” Adrian exhaled audibly. “I’m running out of nerves for you to get on, Miriam. Don’t push me any further. If you really are the target of a demon summoning and someone is trying to frame you, I’m the best ally you’ve got. You don’t want to lose that.” He wagged a finger at her, which irritated her more. “I thought you saw me there last night,” Miriam mocked as she filled a ceramic mug with the boiling water. “I thought Jacob would be able to testify that he saw me there as well, and then you’d all condemn me to the prisons of Annwyn for eternity.” “Jacob is young by our standards, and my testimony would be considered far more reliable than his. He also said you slept with him,” Adrian added through his teeth, almost as an afterthought. Miriam’s mouth formed a small “o.” “Slept with Jacob?” She whirled to face him with the mug of tea in her hand, the hot water spilling out over the top and scalding her. Swearing, she dried her hand on the front of her blouse. “Where did you get that idea?” Adrian leaned back in the chair, stretching his legs further under the table. “I told you. Jacob said the woman who captured him seduced him. Then she forced him to assist with the conjuration by tying him down with rope, woven hemp and silver cast with a binding charm. Then he passed out.”

“That’s what this is about, isn’t it? You think I slept with your nephew, and this is your way of getting back at me. How many demons need to try and kidnap me in the middle of the street, in broad-fucking-daylight, when any other witch full in her power would be able to at least cast a protection spell to stave them off for maybe a minute, before you believe me when I say I can’t perform a divination?” Miriam was on the verge of screaming. She felt like a string on a violin that had been wound too tight, and Adrian was the violinist bowing her too aggressively. Adrian raised his eyebrows. “If anything, I would say you slept with Jacob to make me jealous. You should put that tea down, sweetness. Your hands are shaking.” The string snapped. “You really think I would sleep with someone, let alone a hellhound that’s barely reached adulthood, for something petty like that? You know, you’re right! I’m a shame,” she cried, putting the mug down on the counter behind her. The ceramic banged against the surface, liquid sloshing over the sides of the mug. “I’m a disgrace to my mother, to my family. I bet even my father left my mother when I was born knowing I’d be an embarrassment to his lineage. I’ll never be a priestess in the coven if I can’t perform a divination. No man in our coven, or any coven, would marry me without any magick to contribute to a family. I’ve spent my life being exposed to all the wonderful things that all my family and friends are accomplishing as members of a magickal community, from which I’ve been excluded since I was a child. And now,” she continued, even while tears began cascading down her cheeks. “I’m being framed for a crime I couldn’t even commit if I wanted to.” Miriam didn’t even see him move, but Adrian’s arms were around her in an instant. He crushed her body against him, her forehead just barely reaching his shoulder. He was so warm, the body heat soothing her. The embrace gave her the feeling of complete protection, dissipating any sense of vulnerability in his presence. His arms were strong, holding her trembling body steady.

“I won’t let that happen. You’re safe now,” he murmured into her hair, caressing the back of her head while she sobbed into his bare chest. He loosened his tight grip to gaze down at Miriam, searching her face as if for permission. Something primal formed deep in his dark eyes, and her body responded, surging liquid heat straight to the apex of her thighs and running in chills up her back. Three years she’d longed for this moment. Three years spent wanting to feel his arms around her, his skin against hers. Three years of fantasies that she knew were safe because they would never happen. It was forbidden. And yet, standing in this very moment, she was powerless to stop it. “We can’t—” “If it’s something that can be stopped, then I dare anyone to try and stop it.” Adrian stooped his head down, claiming her mouth in a possessive kiss. She parted her lips, and he dove his tongue into her. Her fingers reached up and entwined in his hair, pulling him deeper into their kiss. **** Adrian pulled back from their kiss and hugged Miriam tightly, pressing her breasts against him. He nuzzled his nose into her hair, inhaling her cinnamon-sandalwood scent, filling him with warmth. He knew Miriam could feel his need, the hardness of his cock pushing into her stomach and pulsing with every heartbeat, but she just felt so damned good to hold. His hands never ventured beyond her waist, though he perceived her clothes as a barrier between him and pure bliss. Her form-fitting jeans and blouse had him on edge the entire time he’d sat in the kitchen, wishing for a moment he would be able to tear them off. The need to feel his flesh against hers, to have her wrapped around him as he thrust into her over and over, tempted his restraint as he breathed in her scent. “Incredible,” he said into her hair. “No witch should smell this good to a hellhound. It’s dangerous.”

“It’s called shampoo,” she said into his chest with a gentle smile in her voice. “It wouldn’t hurt you hounds to use it either.” Adrian cupped her face with his hands and kissed her again, harder this time. Her lips, as soft and delicious as he imagined they would be, molded into his so perfectly. So dangerously. Everything about their union was wrong, forbidden by both their clans, and yet he had never felt such peace. For now, he reveled in the gentle sensation of her mouth latched to his and how perfectly her curves felt pressed against his body. Mixed in with the spice, her feminine musk grew stronger. Her arousal drove the animal in him beyond his control. He could feel his canines lengthening, and the dull prick of claws trying to push from under his fingernails. Reluctantly he broke their kiss, drawing a sound of disapproval from Miriam. Stubbornly, she reached her hands under his shirt while her lips travelled across his neck. He inhaled sharply, letting her explore with her tongue and fingers. “No,” he said, placing his hands firmly on her shoulders. “I need to touch you,” she insisted, sneaking her fingers into his waistband and grazing the sensitive skin beneath. “Please,” Adrian stated decisively. If Miriam went much further, he’d lose complete control, and he was already nearing the edge as it stood now. It wasn’t fair to her, and the least he could do was try and give her the pleasure he would need to deny himself. Miriam’s faced was flushed, her lips parted. She seemed to avoid looking at him as she spoke, her sentence punctuated with rapid breaths in between words. “I know. I don’t know what came over me. I guess it’s my penchant for sleeping with hellhounds.” Adrian couldn’t help himself and laughed. Pulling away abruptly, she hugged her arms around herself, almost as a shield. “What do you find so amusing?”

“There’s another hole in your story, love. No hellhound has ever mounted you.” Her red face grew pinker by the moment. “Not that it’s any of your business—” “If you ever had sex with a hellhound, you would have been able to cast back those demons that were chasing you down the street, but you didn’t even try. In fact,” he went on, stepping closer to her and giving her a predatory smile. “I don’t think anyone has ever touched you before.” “Again,” Miriam said, dropping her arms and poking one sharp index finger into the center of his chest and taking a step back. Adrian conceded and let her go. “It’s none of your damn business who I’ve slept with, or if I’ve slept with anyone, or who I want to sleep with. And I find it a little unnerving that you can tell just by sniffing my hair.” He laughed again. “It’s the pheromones you’ve been emitting since you walked in here,” he explained. “They’re stronger than any human or witch I’ve ever smelled, but it’s clear you have never been attached to anyone. I don’t know how to describe it. You smell innocent. And I love it.” Silence stretched on for a few long moments, the air thick with tension. Nothing in the laws of his pack or Miriam’s coven would permit him to mate with a witch. It was considered treason, a conflict of interest between his duty as a hellhound to guard the spirit worlds and the rituals of the witch who played with that delicate balance. Jacob’s encounter had resulted in the young hellhound becoming spellbound. This was the precise reason behind the laws that prevented sex between the two clans. Her voice was guarded, heavy. He was convinced now the flush on her skin was an echo of the lust she tried to tamp down in her voice as she spoke. “Why should I trust you, after everything you’ve done to me?” It killed Adrian that he couldn’t have her completely, to never prove to Miriam just how much he wanted, no, needed to protect her. Her innocent words, the way she worried her hands together as she stared up at him expectantly, reminded him why he was so taken with Miriam when he went with her as the guardian for her first ancestor summoning.

Adrian was also reminded of why he’d broken off their friendship in the first place. He wanted her, and that was unacceptable to his kind. “Why should I trust you?” she repeated. Adrian stepped closer to her, leaning his hands on the wall and pressing Miriam against it with his body. He ground his hips into her while she whimpered helplessly with fear and need. He lowered his mouth to her ear, his lips curling away from his teeth. “You shouldn’t.” Miriam shuddered and pressed her cheek against his. “Damn it. I do.” Their lips met in a frenzied kiss. Adrian wrapped one hand around Miriam’s waist, pulling her closer. She moaned into his mouth. His fingers flew underneath her shirt, grazing the pads of his fingers against her belly, up her ribs, and snaking expertly under her bra. When he reached her nipples, Miriam hissed softly. He circled his thumb over her swollen mounds, grabbing them with a restrained force. She cried out, grinding her hips into his thigh. “I think the lady wants more,” Adrian grinned. Miriam looked up at him with heavy-lidded eyes, nodding her assent. “Well, we will have to give her just what she needs.” In one swift movement, Adrian lifted Miriam by the waist and led her into the living room, laying her on the sofa. He helped Miriam settle her back against the cushions, a halfsmile forming on her lips. “What are we doing?” If there was any regret in her voice, he was hard-pressed to find it. The innocence and sensuality of the statement caused his straining cock to throb, begging to be released from his jeans. He knew what she was asking. He ran his fingers down the side of her face, and she closed her eyes. “I will never hurt you. I promise you that now.” Miriam opened her lips as if to respond, but never had the chance. His fingers worked deftly at the button on her jeans, and his lips traced a line from her navel to the top of her underwear. He went back to her mouth, kissing her fiercely. Her nails raked his bare back, causing him to suppress the wild, animalistic howl that welled in his chest. Breaking the kiss, he

pushed her shirt up to her chin. She pulled the shirt off completely as he tore the bra away, perhaps a bit too aggressively, but he was rewarded when a beautiful, ripe breast fell into his hand. The dark pink nipple was taut, begging for attention. “Just as I fantasized.” He couldn’t resist sucking the small bud into his mouth, grazing the sensitive skin with his teeth. “Adrian!” Miriam thrust her hips upward. Tugging her pants down, he exposed the black thong, and he growled his appreciation. She writhed beneath him as he pulled the underwear and jeans down to her knees, exposing her sex. The delicate tuft of curls on her mons kept her from being entirely vulnerable, but the evidence of her womanhood, her maturity and ripeness, sent a jolt to his cock. Perched on his elbows, he parted her glistening folds. He could see the muscles of her core contracting in eagerness. “Beautiful,” he murmured and inhaled the perfume of her arousal. Unable to resist, he dipped his tongue into her pussy, savoring the elixir with slow glides of his tongue. The words she struggled to speak became a frantic essay of moans and gasps. Her fingers entwined in his scalp while her body vibrated beneath him. One hand reached around the sides of her body to massage her full breasts. The warm flesh melted against his palm as another audible breath escaped her. Her taste was exquisite, a melody of honey and amber that trickled sweetly down his throat. He lapped up every bit from her throbbing need, but there was always more. Though each graze of his tongue caused her fingers to dig further into his hair and force her knees tighter about his body, he was acting selfishly in this position. He reveled in every chill that passed through her body, every gasp and moan. It drove him onward, but he wasn’t moving so deliberately for her benefit. He inched two fingers into her molten interior, pushing against her walls that resisted his entry. He curled them up into a “come-hither” motion, palpating until he uncovered the rough round button deep inside that made her cry his name.

She contracted wildly around him as her orgasm crested and waned in response to Adrian’s movements. Her back arched off the sofa as the moisture from her slit continued to pour over his fingers. He eased them from inside her, to which she sighed in response. Miriam’s cheeks were flushed, as was the flesh of her belly and chest. He couldn’t keep his lips from kissing the creamy pink skin, pressing his cheek to her rising and falling abdomen, listening to her breathing slow into a steady rhythm as she drifted off to sleep. She felt warm against him, a sensation that comforted and tamed him. When he was sure she slept, he wrapped her body in the throw from the couch and carried her up the stairs to his bedroom. It was the first time he’d ever been embarrassed that his bedroom wasn’t more welcoming, the king-sized bed still unmade from the last time he’d slept in it, with no mountain of cushions to protect Miriam’s delicate body as she slept. No woman had ever stirred the emotions he felt in this moment as he laid her on his mattress, brushing the matted curls away from her sweat-dampened forehead. The stab of guilt he felt in his chest grew when he was able to pull himself away from her and head across the hall to the guest bedroom. It was a small comfort that he was able to give her pleasure while denying his own. But that was as far as it would ever go. The woman he felt he was destined to protect would never, could never, be his. “Gods, what have I done?”

Chapter Five

The world was on fire. Miriam awoke, her forehead dripping with sweat. Her body was aflame from her blazing core outward to her smoldering skin. Where was she? The room was dark, the bed was soft. Memories of what had happened there the night before drifted in and out as she regained consciousness in the furnace she found herself in. She strained to see the walls around her, but it was dark. There were no flames. Why was she burning? The blanket she was wrapped in was oppressive, sticking to her wet body like a film. She tore the cover off with a howl. The door banged opened, and light flooded the bedroom. A huge, dark silhouette stood in the doorway. "Miriam." She recognized Adrian's voice. The shadow moved toward her, and his hand rested on her forehead. "My gods, you've got a fever." "The fire." Miriam gasped in air, comforted by the cool sensation as it flooded her lungs. "Adrian, I need you to put out the fire." Adrian chuckled, but there was worry in his voice. "There is no fire, sweetness. You have a bit of a temperature, that’s all. Let me get you a thermometer and a Tylenol to send it back down—” "No!" she cried, grasping at his arm. Why didn't he understand? "I need you to put it out before I burn!" "Just stay there," Adrian's voice was powerful, commanding. Her eyes flicked open in response, and what she saw had her trembling. She'd seen him without his shirt before, broad chest and shoulders, the well-toned, flat stomach, and the dark curls of hair beneath his navel. He wore only boxers now. If she had ached for him before, her body was in agony now. “I need you to stay with me,” she panted. “Okay, sweetness, I’m here.” The tips of his fingers grazed her arm, raising goose bumps along the trail he drew.

“Mmm,” Miriam sighed. She arched her back and shifted her body, pushing one of her bare breasts into the hand he rested on her arm. “Right there.” Adrian pulled his hand back like she’d stuck him with a hot poker. “You’re ill, Miriam. I can’t do that to you.” A sultry moan unlike any noise she’d ever made rose from her throat. The sound almost frightened her, but she was beyond stopping herself now. “You want to, though.” Miriam met Adrian’s gaze, his eyes heavy with lust. She swore his breathing was labored, though he stood rigid and unyielding at her side. The evidence of his arousal was plain to see when he wore so little. Before he could object, Miriam reached over and pulled at the elastic waistband of his boxers. She gasped when his erection sprang free, intimidated by his sheer girth. Her tongue shot out and lapped at the drop of precum beading at the tip of his cock. “If you keep doing that,” Adrian spoke softly, but there was a dangerous amount of restraint in his tone, “I’m not sure I’ll be able to stop you.” Accepting this as an invitation, Miriam wrapped her lips around the warm, velvety head. Adrian’s groan of approval urged her on as she took more of him into her mouth, milking him with her tongue and lapping every bit of the sweet, salty flavor. “No more,” he said gently, and pulled her away, smiling. “I won’t last.” He laid her back on the bed. He traced the curves of her body from her hips to her underarms, then slowly, deliberately, running the pad of his thumb across her nipple which beaded painfully in need. He cupped her breast, which felt as if it fit so perfectly in his left hand, while the right edged slowly down her legs and under the robe. Miriam hissed at the contact. She moaned and ground her hips into him, enticing his hand upward. Adrian ran his fingers on the inside of her thigh. The moisture that ran between her legs caused his breath to hitch. “You’re so wet for me already,” he growled into her mouth. “Should I reward you for this?” he asked, and tugged her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, provoking a cry

from her. “Or should I punish you for what you’ve done to me?” He pulled his fingers from between her legs, and she was ready to weep from the loss of contact. “Don’t stop,” she gasped, running her hand over the shaft of the impossible length that throbbed beneath her palm. She could hear the smile in his voice as he spoke into her neck. “Since the lady has asked so nicely.” He gripped her nipple again and replaced his right hand between her thighs. His fingers parted her wet folds, tracing the most sensitive parts of her nether lips. “Yes,” she cried. The response must have pleased him, and he rewarded her by inserting two fingers into her. She writhed against him as he massaged the sensitive bundle of nerves he’d found last night, bringing her to orgasm in a matter of just a few strokes. Though her body shuddered with aftershocks of pleasure, the burning still hadn’t ceased. “More,” she begged. “Oh gods, I need more!” Adrian climbed up onto the bed and caressed Miriam’s cheeks. Conflict resonated in his tortured expression. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, and kissed her on her lips gently. “I hope in the morning when your fever is down you’ll be able to forgive me.” “Now,” she moaned and opened her legs to him. “I need it now.” Adrian positioned his body between her knees. In a slow, deliberate motion, he inched the head of his thick cock into her. She cried out in pleasure-pain as he pushed passed her virginity, the tight channel resisting his girth with strong contractions that tried to force him from her. Instead, he thrust further, allowing her time to adjust to his size. Her nails clawed his back, digging deep into the skin and urging him further. “Are you all right,” Adrian whispered. “Are you hurt?” “Don’t stop,” Miriam urged. With a growl, Adrian captured her mouth in a possessive kiss. In and out he thrust, stretching her with each penetration as they both neared their culmination. Her internal muscles tightened as she grew closer and closer to orgasm.

Her senses sharpened all at once, even as Adrian brought her to her peak. Her eyes burned, the room that had appeared dark now allowed everything to come into focus with great intensity. The sound of their coupling increased in her ears and even the earthy, musky smell of their sex became overpowering. “What’s happening?” Miriam cried. To her, the sound came out almost as a growl. “Miriam,” Adrian said, his voice strained. “I can’t…” He leaned back, pinning her shoulders to the bed as he thrust even deeper into her. She wrapped her legs around his waist, changing the position. He ground against her sensitive bud over and over again, until finally he cried her name with his release as her own orgasm took her. She overflowed and screamed her pleasure with him as she tumbled into an enveloping blackness, bringing her to a rest so blissful that she was unconcerned about whether she would ever wake again.

Chapter Six

When her fever finally broke and he was sure Miriam was in a deep sleep, Adrian reluctantly rolled out of his bed. The sun was beginning to rise. Thin rays of light trickled through the thick curtains, reaching toward the bed and illuminating Miriam’s creamy, exposed skin. Once again, the epitome of beauty was stretched out in slumber in his space. The vision of her wrapped in his sheets from the waist down, her back coated in a delicate sheen of sweat from the exertion of their coupling brought him comfort. She was his now, and he needed to keep it that way. How it would happen, he was unsure. He only knew he had to have her as his own. He left a brief note on the table next to the bed, in case she woke up while he was gone, letting her know when he would return and that she was welcome to everything that was his. His only condition was that she not leave the house, in the interest of her safety. Adrian’s first order of business for the day, after checking and double-checking that the house was secured, was to see how young Jacob was fairing. Ash and Jacob Drake lived in an apartment on the far side of the city. The twins were as inseparable as brother and sister could be, and Adrian envied the connection between them. When they went through the pain of transformation as they hit adulthood, they’d had each other. Adrian had no one. His father, the previous Alpha, had insisted he go through it alone, to “toughen him up.” The apartment building was humble, three stories tall and poorly maintained with a yard that hadn’t been mowed since the summer months. A few children’s toys scattered the lawn, likely from one of the families living on the ground floor. He knocked on the second-floor apartment door, and it swung open to reveal a girl in her early twenties with long blonde hair and a pale complexion. She was modestly attractive, but the word “mousey” came to mind every time

Adrian saw her. The fair-haired girl was the complete opposite of her larger, darker twin brother. “About time you showed up,” Ashley Drake drawled unpleasantly, bowing her head slightly in mock-respect for her Alpha. Adrian’s shoulders sank. “Trust me, if I could have come by yesterday, I would have. This shit’s worse than you could imagine.” “Yeah well, Mom’s pissed at me for not keeping a close enough eye on Jake.” She huffed, but the concern for her brother was in the lines of worry on her forehead. “Like I’m his bodyguard or something. Not to mention she’s pissed at you too, for not showing up in time.” Adrian gritted his teeth. Barbara Drake, Adrian’s cousin by blood, had lost her husband soon after she conceived the twins. She had hoped Adrian would be a godfather to the twins. He just didn’t have the inclination to be a father, and when he had babysat the two when they were growing up, he wound up getting them in more trouble than keeping them from it. “I guess this is worse than the pizza incident, huh?” Adrian attempted to tease. It worked, sparking the hint of a smile at the corner of Ash’s lips. She led him into the small living room, which looked more like a college dorm than a real home. Magazines and empty food containers littered the coffee table. A video game system was attached to the small television, the cord for the controllers reaching to the nearest chair where Ash must have been sitting when Adrian knocked on the door. Using one arm, she swept a mound of papers off the sofa, giving Adrian room to sit. Ash plopped down across from him, sitting Indianstyle on the floor. “If you think she was pissed then, she is fucking pissed now.” Adrian always worried that Ash inherited her smart mouth from him. “Is he awake?” “Yeah, but he isn’t talking. That binding spell the witch placed on him is still keeping his mouth shut. He can’t even write her name. She made sure that loophole was closed,

too. She’s pretty thorough. This was a seasoned bitch. Witch. Necromancer. Whatever.” Adrian noted the dark circles under Ash’s eyes. As rough and tough as she tried to come off, she was more vulnerable than she appeared. The toll this summoning had taken on her brother was having an effect on her, too. Giving her the news was going to be tough. “He slept with a witch, you know.” Ash’s lips curled. “Yeah, he was able to tell me that much.” “And you know what that means, don’t you?” Ash looked away, feigning interest in a calendar on the wall that was still set to September. “Yeah, he’s going to be in trouble. What else is new?” She shook her head, her voice filled with concern masked by anger. With no father and a mother who was so devastated by the loss that she’d distanced herself from her children, Ash had become a sort of surrogate maternal figure to Jacob. She had always been fiercely protective of him, and even as a child often took the fall to prevent him from getting caught for his mischief. “He’s never followed the rules.” Ash went on. “This time he’s really fucked up though. I mean, he fucked a witch. Doesn’t that like, give her his power?” Memories of earlier that morning flooded his mind. Had he done that to Miriam as well? “You smell funny,” Ash noted, leaning forward a little. “Huh? I took a shower this morning. I promise.” Adrian tried to make a joke of it, but knew Ash had the same sensitive hellhound nose he did. He was sure he’d showered and cleaned thoroughly enough, removing as much of Miriam’s scent as was physically possible with soap and water. Ash rolled her eyes. “You don’t smell dirty, just different. Your scent is off a little. Like—” she sniffed deliberately “—almost like you’ve been burning incense or something. Sandalwood, maybe. But it’s definitely in there.” Incense? Sandalwood? Ash’s eyes popped open and she jumped up from the floor. “Adrian. It’s your pheromones. I think I’m going to

throw up a little after saying this, but I think your pheromones have changed. Dude.” She jabbed him in his shoulder with her small, bony fist. “Did you find a mate?” The revelation was like a punch to his gut. It can’t be. “I think it’s time for me to go. Please give Jacob my best and tell him if we can apprehend the witch, I’ll argue in his defense should this go before the council.” He swiftly made his exit from the apartment building, but not before Ash could dance out with him singing, “Adrian has a may-ate, Adrian has a may-ate.” That girl was begging for a flogging. How could this be? As a hellhound, how could he be mated to a witch? The laws between the clans had been in place for hundreds of years, making it very clear that there was to be no mating between, he hated to use the word, species. The two were not compatible. This meant Adrian couldn’t go to the council for help after all. If indeed it was discovered he and Miriam had mated, he’d be tried for treason, and Miriam would be left to whatever fate awaited her in her own council. Unless whoever was after her got to her first. Only one person remained on his side able to assist him in protecting Miriam. The one person who would open doors that had been left shut for almost a quarter of a century, who Miriam had most feared to approach with the questions that might be her salvation. Miriam’s own mother.

Chapter Seven

Bells chimed as Adrian stepped through the door of the small shop. Immediately he was hit with the strong perfume of spices, incense, and the gentle electric buzz of magick that the majority of the store’s patrons were unable to detect. Those who could perceive the gentle frequency humming through the air wouldn’t know what it meant. Humans who practiced earth magick became sensitive to the vibrations, even if they couldn’t tap into it fully. The shop wasn’t much larger than his living room and kitchen combined, yet it was packed full with shelves, display tables, and small sitting areas for customers who wanted to browse through books before they purchased them. And there were hundreds of books lining the back wall. Assortments of gems and minerals were shielded by glass cases. Dozens of different magickal tools from scrying mirrors and dowsing rods to bundles of sage for smudging rituals packed the shelves. “Can I help you?” The gentle, welcoming voice came from behind him. Adrian jumped and turned around. Rarely was he caught by surprise. “I didn’t see you when I came in.” The woman in front of him looked no older than thirty, but her eyes spoke to the experience of a woman much older. Her short, black hair was even curlier than Miriam’s. She had the same nose and chin, differing only in the eyes, which were crystal blue and almond-shaped. “Adrian Mason.” Rhada Spencer bowed her head slightly toward him. “To what do I owe this honor?” Her words were impersonal, but Adrian could tell she was trying to be polite. As polite as a mother could be to the man who’d almost broke her daughter’s heart once upon a time. “I’m here on Miriam’s behalf.” The shadow of a frown passed along Rhada’s face. “Come, sit down.” Adrian followed the petite woman to the back section of the store where chairs had been set up in a cozy circle. He

imagined this area was used for meetings as well as for customers to feel comfortable when they sat to browse through the literature. “Don’t you think it’s odd, Adrian.” Rhada spoke as she motioned for him to sit down in a dark leather chair. “That I insist Miriam spend so much time around magickal items when she believes she will never be able to use them beyond the ritualistic worship of the goddess and seasons?” “Honestly, I hadn’t thought much of it before yesterday,” Adrian admitted. Rhada smiled gently. “I myself have been in a sort of self-imposed penance since my dear Miriam was born. I feel responsible for her inability to perform magick, you know.” “That’s why I’m here today, Rhada. I need answers from you.” The elder witch laughed. “It is written all over your face, darling. No amount of divination could tell me more than what your expression of concern is speaking to me now.” “You were once one of the most powerful witches in the coven,” Adrian started. “I remember as a kid how you were even more revered than any of the elders. You would have been made High Priestess. Why have you chosen not to perform magick any longer?” “Ah, that’s where you’re wrong.” Rhada wagged a delicate finger at him and leaned back into the cushion of her seat. “Miriam and I have been performing magick since she was born. Every intention, every ritual, every circle we have drawn is magickal worship in some form, is it not?” He shrugged but was having difficulty following Rhada’s logic. Something wasn’t adding up. “But she doesn’t even have so much as a charged protective charm around her neck.” Sadness washed over Rhada’s face like a wave. She looked across the room toward a tapestry woven with the Triple Goddess symbol. “Don’t you think if I could protect her any more than I’ve taught her with earth magick I would?” Pieces of the puzzle began to fall in place. “You can’t perform magick any longer, can you?”

“Magick is not about casting spells and divining spirits,” Rhada corrected. “It is about demonstrating to the earth your reverence for it. The threefold law affects those who can divine and those who cannot. That’s something this coven seemed to have forgotten.” “When were you forbidden to divine? When did they bind you from performing summonings?” Adrian asked bluntly. Rhada smiled sadly. There were the slightest traces of longing and guilt when she spoke. “When the council found out who Miriam’s father was.” **** Miriam tapped her foot impatiently as she watched the minute hand tick one more notch on the clock. The note had said Adrian would be back soon, but it made no mention of when he would be returning. It was nearing ten a.m. How soon was “soon”? At least he’d put on a pot of coffee before he ran out for the morning. The aroma reached her all the way from the kitchen downstairs before she even rolled out of bed. Her ability to smell this morning was unnaturally sensitive. It wasn’t just the coffee, though, and it wasn’t just her nose. Everything—the electricity running through the light bulb, the ticking of the clock, water dripping in the attached bathroom—seemed amplified, giving Miriam a slight headache. She wasn’t sure if everything was louder or if her head just hurt that much. By the time Miriam got to the coffee, hoping the caffeine would at least make her head feel a little better, it had staled considerably. She didn’t consider herself a coffee snob by any means, but her taste buds rejected the hours-old brew. She dumped out the contents of the pitcher and put on a new pot of whatever anonymous coffee filled the container next to the brewer. While the coffee percolated, she rummaged through the kitchen to find breakfast. Going through his shelves, touching the boxes he had stored in the cabinets, made her feel

even closer to him than she had last night and earlier this morning. Her body still ached to be filled with him, her thighs still sore from the way he pummeled himself against her body. Yet occupying his space, going through his kitchen, was even more intimate. She felt good here. At home and at peace. There was more sugary cereal than anything else that might be considered breakfast in his pantry, and she found that endearing. The tough hellhound Alpha ate Fruit Loops with his coffee. She fixed herself a bowl and settled down at the crossword puzzle Adrian had been working on the previous afternoon. It wasn’t long before Miriam realized she was going to need a change of clothes for the day, before she made it to work later that afternoon. Adrian’s note had been very specific. Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be back soon. She looked at her watch. Ten-thirty a.m. Adrian couldn’t have been gone more than two hours, and her house was less than a ten-minute drive away. She could get there and back before eleven, and hopefully he’d still be gone when she returned. Finding her car keys in a bowl on the foyer table, Miriam went out to her car. The ten-year-old Volvo wagon was her baby. It wasn’t beautiful, its silver body cratered with several dings and in desperate need of a car wash, but the engine always started, and it was a trooper going up the steep hills scattered around the county. When she sat down in the driver’s seat, she was hit with a delicious, earthy musk. She closed her eyes and inhaled again. The scent went straight from her nose and sent warmth through her body to her most sensitive places. Turning her head, she sniffed, the musk was strongest on the headrest behind her. Adrian. Her body was humming as it remembered the intensity of the pleasure his hands, his lips, and his cock brought to her the night before. Goddess. Heat rushed to her cheeks, sweat breaking out on her forehead. The fever was coming back. “Breathe,” She reminded herself as she buckled her seatbelt and started the car, her hands shaking just a little. The

AC would never cool down in the short drive down the road, but it was worth a shot. She turned it on full-blast. With her foot a little heavy on the gas pedal, Miriam was able to make the trip in under ten minutes, only speeding through one yellow light at an empty intersection. Her movements were automatic, a small voice in the back of her head whispering her need to get back to Adrian soon. The fever wasn’t going away. Miriam pulled the Volvo up the gravel driveway, the small pebbles crunching under the weight of the station wagon. She turned the car off, missing the steady stream of air against her face but motivated by the prospect of a quick, cool shower to bring her temperature down. After last night, she was convinced it wouldn’t help much, though. As soon as she got in the door, she checked the messages on her cell phone, which had been left charging on the kitchen counter. She was so bad about taking the phone with her, not feeling the need for constant contact with everyone at the touch of a button. There were only two missed calls, and both callers had left messages. One message was from her mother reminding her that one of their vendors had forgotten to mail an invoice and to try to procure an electronic copy, and since she seemed to plan on coming in later that day wouldn’t she bring by some food for the both of them from the small Tibetan cuisine stand in the mall on her way over. Dining together at the store was a Tuesday night tradition of theirs, and Miriam was sorry she had nearly forgotten it. The second message was from Isabelle, succinctly stating to call her back “A.S.A.P.” “As soon as possible” would have to wait another few hours. Miriam needed to shower and pack a bag quickly to get back to Adrian’s house before he returned. She snapped the cell phone shut and headed upstairs to get her things together. Three punctuated taps echoed from the foyer. Dammit. She wanted to tell the visitor to go away; she was on a schedule. She pretended she hadn’t heard it and turned the water on in her shower. Less than a minute later, the knocks at the door repeated.

Sighing, Miriam hurried down the stairs to see who it was, intending not to open the door at all. From her position on the staircase, she could see the silhouette of a person imprinted on the sheer curtain blocking the window. Standing outside the door was a tall, thin woman with pixie-cut hair, her hand on her hip. “Isabelle?” Miriam called. “Is that you?” She peered behind the curtain and saw her friend’s face stuck flush up against the glass. “I knew you were here,” she squealed, delighted. “Can I come in?” Miriam thought twice. A conversation with Isabelle could easily run more than ten minutes, which was all the time she had allotted herself at home before she needed to rush back. “Yeah sure, come upstairs with me. I need to get some things together.” The door flew open, and Isabelle stepped inside. Her long, crimson robe flowed behind her. Under it, she wore a frilly pink blouse, dark blue skinny jeans, and four-inch heels, dwarfing Miriam by nearly a foot. As if she weren’t already tall enough, Isabelle never left home without a pair of heels unless she was going to a gym. Her short hair was held in place by floral-shaped pins. She looked like the cover model for Cosmopolitan Witch. Miriam led her up to her bedroom. “How did you know I was here? I’m usually at the store by this time.” “You should have called me back.” Isabelle winked and sat on Miriam’s bed. She flattened the sheets, almost as a compulsion. “How do you think I found out?” “Oh, Isabelle! You didn’t divine it, did you?” It broke her heart that her friend would use magick to pry into her personal life, especially since she was unable to cast any kind of protective charm preventing others from doing so. Isabelle’s smile spoke volumes. A wave of foreboding nausea rolled over her. “What else did you see?” Isabelle reached over to her and held her arm. “It’s okay, Miriam, I didn’t tell anyone about you and the hellhound. I just felt like you were keeping secrets from me,

that’s all. But it seems this is a pretty new development. And guess what else I found out?” “I’m not pregnant, am I?” “No, dummy. The spirits told me that if everything goes according to plan, I’m going to make High Priestess after all!” As if there were any doubt in that. Isabelle was the most powerful of the young witches. “Well that’s great news, Isabelle. I’m surprised you were able to find that out, since I doubt even the elders have decided when they were going to make the decision.” Isabelle tilted her head to one side and put her forefinger to her lip thoughtfully. “There is one problem, though.” Folding a shirt and placing it on the pile, Miriam looked at Isabelle expectantly. Her friend didn’t automatically respond. “What’s that?” “Well.” Isabelle went on, crossing one leg over the other, kicking a length of robe out of her way. “It seems another witch in the community is about to rise up above the others in power soon. If that happens, I’ll lose my spot in the running for High Priestess. I couldn’t let that happen, you see.” Isabelle’s voice had continued to lower as she spoke, her final words almost a whisper. Miriam’s skin began to tingle uncomfortably. “Who else could be nearly as powerful as you, Isabelle?” “It doesn’t matter now, but there are a few witnesses who seemed to recognize her. The council found out that a witch carelessly summoned demons during a divination ritual. In the presence of two hellhounds. And these demons have been left to run amuck through the streets of Ithaca, in broad daylight.” The pixie-haired girl on Miriam’s bed smiled gently, a deceptive look as she reached into the deep pocket of her robe. Her hand emerged clutching a pastel-yellow fabric. Miriam recognized the shirt she had lent Isabelle a few nights earlier. “Thank you for letting me borrow this, by the way. Jacob found it appealing on me, but unfortunately I no longer need his assistance. I was enjoying his…help.” “Jacob?” Miriam gulped.

Isabelle winked. “And I’m pretty sure I don’t need any object of yours to perform a simple illusion spell any longer, in your skin or for your scent.” Oh shit. Adrian had seen her that night—or someone putting on the illusion that they were her. “Who is Jacob?” “Don’t play games with me, Miriam.” Isabelle’s voice dropped an octave as she stood. Her blue eyes darkened. “I know what you are. Your mommy might have tried to keep it from you for all these years, but she’s almost as transparent as you are.” Miriam backed against the wall. The light coming in through the window seemed to darken. Even the walls of her room took on a deeper shade. “Isabelle, you’re scaring me.” The creepy smile returned. “Don’t worry, my dear.” Isabelle moved quickly over to Miriam. “It won’t hurt.” Darkness filled in where light had once been. The liquid shadow material began to take form. “Isabelle! What have you done?” “Shh.” Flanked on either side by the shadows, Isabelle let out an eerie giggle. “See how even now, they do my bidding.” Two forms, the same black thick, wispy humanoid forms that had taken her captive yesterday, stepped from behind Isabelle. Miriam screamed when their icy hands gripped her on either arm, and she fell into an allencompassing darkness.

Chapter Eight

“Fuck!” Adrian’s fist met the wall. Rarely did he let his anger consume him, but when he saw Miriam’s car missing from the street in front of his house, when he confirmed she was gone from his bed, he couldn’t control his emotion. Behind the anger, his guilt stabbed even more sharply. He should have never left her home alone in such a vulnerable a condition. Unable to use her magick and still ignorant to her true origins, she might as well have been marked with a target on her back. Without wasting any time, Adrian shifted form seamlessly and honed in on the connection he had developed with the other hellhounds in his pack. He could communicate with any of them at any time. It was the only way he’d been able to speak with Jacob when his consciousness hung by a thread, even under the control of the witch who had bound him. Had he developed that connection with Miriam as well? Miriam, can you hear me? He had marked her as his, and the telepathic bond between mates was stronger even than the links between the dozen hellhounds in his immediate pack. Yet try as he might, he couldn't contact her. Punctuated by a ferocious snarl, Adrian bounded down the street toward Miriam's house, where he was sure she’d gone. He was oblivious to the few humans on the road who turned to regard the huge dog bounding undeterred in front of their homes, but he was moving too quickly for them to see the glowing red of his eyes, the barbed extensions that jutted outward from his spinal column. And if they had, they could never be sure of what they’d seen, because he was gone when they looked a second time. The sun had gone back behind the clouds, and thunder boomed in the distance. A mid-autumn storm? Dread filled Adrian when he saw her silver station wagon sitting in the driveway. His instincts told him she

wasn’t in the house, but the strength of her scent suggested she hadn't been gone for very long. Adrian sniffed at the air, trying to pick up a trail. The only one he could find brought her back down the street the way he had come, back to his house. It was as if she had just disappeared. With a strong sense of foreboding, Adrian howled at the sky, praying to whatever god or goddess might hear him. Please let me find her. **** “Isabelle,” Miriam whispered, the name falling off her lips like a plea. “What have you done?” Tendrils of the shadow-substance wrapped around Miriam’s hands, holding her in place against the thick trunk of a willow tree. She wasn’t sure of her surroundings, having been dropped in the middle of the woods after the portal in her room had closed. She could hear water running behind her in a steady, gentle trickle, but she had no way of telling which direction was downstream from this angle, pointing in the direction of the city. A few feet in front of her in the grass, Isabelle hummed as she drew the ritualistic summoning circle. "You mean, what did you do? It seems a bit of information might have leaked out to the hellhounds that a particular witch was seen by the hellhound Alpha two nights ago.” Isabelle looked thoughtfully at Miriam. “But so far he hasn’t apprehended the suspect. You know what that means, don’t you?” “You would let Adrian be charged with treason? What did he ever do to you?” “What have they all done?” Isabelle’s screech pierced Miriam’s ears. “Those dirty curs have kept us from achieving our full potential for centuries now. There was a time a witch could practice spirit divinations on her own accord, summon up a demon to put a curse on someone, or call on a spirit without a damned dog babysitting her!” “The hellhounds are there to protect us, Isabelle. If something went wrong, no witch is strong enough to ward off

a demon, let alone an army of them if a ritual went really bad!” In return for their protection, the council of witches had agreed to bind all future generations from performing summonings without the presence of a hellhound. “They missed one loophole, didn’t they?” “Loophole?” “That by accepting the seed of a hellhound, part of the magick encoded in their DNA becomes imbedded in us. That’s why sex between the two species is forbidden. Not for reasons of purity like they claim. Although it is a shame.” Isabelle sighed. “I’m almost sorry I never tried it before the other night.” Yes, Adrian had told her that. Had she forced Adrian to make love to her against his will? No, she convinced herself. That wasn’t possible. She never had any magick to begin with, so there was no way. Thunder cracked ominously as a storm quickly began moving in from behind the tree line. “Why did you bind Jacob from speaking my name,” Miriam asked. “Your name?” Isabelle laughed mockingly. “You think I was in your form when I let that poor hellhound fuck me? You’re adorable, Miriam, but I’m sorry to say I wouldn’t disguise myself as you to seduce a man. No, it’s my name he is forbidden to speak.” “Then why use my shape at all?” “For the summoning of course. I couldn’t risk having myself seen by the hellhound Alpha when poor little Jacob started phoning home for help once he realized I’d only used him as a sperm bank. And as extra protection for my first night out as a full-blooded necromancer.” She added haughtily, “But I’m confident now I can handle it myself.” Miriam was only trying to buy time, but until what, she didn’t know. She only knew she needed to keep Isabelle talking to put off the divination ritual as long as possible. “You’ve got all your aces lined up,” Miriam said weakly. “Why don’t you just bring me to the elder council? You have two witnesses who saw me there that night.” Though she knew Adrian would never testify against her, he could only answer that indeed he had seen Miriam there that

night. He would be forbidden from speaking beyond what he saw. “Do you think I would let my best friend in the world be put in front of the elder council to face such a horrible judgment? I would do no such thing. Besides, I don’t think Adrian would testify against you now." She winked scornfully. “Then what are you doing with me?” “There is a special place for you, and when that hellhound comes to your rescue, I will make sure the Sluagh take care of him as well.” **** Criminals always return to the crime scene. Adrian sighed, relieved. Not more than a mile away from the place he had witnessed the demon conjuring two nights ago, he picked up a trace of the cinnamon-sandalwood perfume drifting toward him from the east. Loping steadily through the forest, rain pelting on his coat, Adrian followed the creek downstream. A clearing opened up. In the center of the clearing, Adrian spotted a tall, thin woman wearing a dark red ceremonial robe. He rolled his eyes at the dramatics. She was drawing a circle in the grass, likely with salt or some other substance with protective properties. Across from her, tightly bound to a tree by the demon’s shadow, was the waifish form of his own personal goddess. Anger boiled up deep inside of Adrian. He had tried to prepare himself for the rush of emotion he knew would hit him when he saw his mate, but he hadn’t expected her to appear so helpless, so vulnerable. And he felt responsible for it all. Miriam, can you hear me? From his vantage, he could see Miriam’s eyes widen. They darted around the field, though she moved only subtly to keep the other witch from taking notice. You can speak to me, Miriam. Just picture me when you think what you want to tell me and I’ll hear you.

Adrian? Miriam squinted her eyes, and despite the tension in the air, Adrian tried not to laugh at her endearing attempt to concentrate. That’s very good, sweetheart. That’s very, very good. I don’t have much time to explain things to you, so I need you to listen to me carefully and trust everything I say, no matter how silly it might sound. Where are you? I can’t see you. Miriam’s nose twitched and her cheeks flushed red. But I know you’re somewhere east of me. Goddess, how is it I can smell you from here? Her senses had developed so quickly. That’s right, I’m not too far away. Oh, Adrian! It’s a trap. You have to get out of here. Isabelle’s become magick-crazed. She thinks I’m going to try and compete with her for High Priestess, thinks you’re in on it too. She’s targeting you. Then she’s going to have me brought to…to the place the demons come from. Adrian could see tears running from Miriam’s eyes. The betrayal of someone who’d seemed to be a good friend was taking its toll on her. Hatred filled the low growl in his throat. That isn’t going to happen. The other witch—Miriam had called her Isabelle— bowed her head and began chanting an old conjuring rite in Latin, words that were supposed to remain unspoken by witches after the pact. Adrian couldn’t wait to get this witch in front of the hellhound council, alliance be damned. He only hoped he could get her there in one piece, resisting the urge to tear out her throat on the trip to Annwyn. A flash of lightening lit up the clearing, the luminous dendrites spreading across the sky. Thunder followed close behind. Isabelle continued to chant unhindered, but Miriam’s feet were wriggling against the tree. Her frightened whimpers struck him deep in the core. Miriam, I need you to concentrate right now, okay? Miriam’s voice was panicked, even in his mind. I can see the portal opening in the ground. Oh gods, there’s nothing I can do! You aren’t helpless, damn it!

I can’t perform magick, Adrian! And even if I could, Isabelle bound my hands with a spell. Adrian wished he had more time to explain things to her, but that was a priceless commodity at the moment, and it was running short. Isabelle is right to be afraid of you. You are more powerful than she could ever be. He swore he saw her eyes roll. Then why am I here? You haven’t drawn on it yet, but you can now. You haven’t been able to perform magick because of what your father is. My father? Miriam’s voice was huffy in his mind. He left my mother because we can’t perform magick. My father be damned! No, he didn’t abandon you. He left to protect you. Your father wasn’t a witch, Miriam, but he is the reason you haven’t been able to perform magick. At least up until now. Miriam had stopped squirming, but there was still terror in her eyes. What’s changed? The dark portal in front of the tree widened further. A pair of shadowed arms reached out from its depths. The ritual was moving forward, and Adrian needed Miriam to act fast. You. Your body, your hormones are changing in response to me because we are compatible. What happened the other night, the fever. That was you coming into heat for me. Adrian drew in a deep breath. You’re my mate, Miriam. And I need you to tap into that right now. “Mate,” Miriam whispered. “What the hell are you saying?” Your father and mother were separated because he wasn’t a witch. He was a hellhound, Miriam. It’s in your blood. That means you have the power to break those fucking bonds on your hands. You just need to tap into what you fought so hard to suppress last night. You need to let it out! “I can’t,” Miriam cried. She struggled against the silver-tinted ropes holding her secure to the willow tree. “I can’t get to it!” “Cŵn!” The ancient word, hound, boomed through the field as loud as the thunder itself. It shook the ground. The

massive form of the demon emerged completely from the portal. Adrian knew it was pointless to hide any longer. The demon would know where to find him, and he needed to distract it from Miriam for as long as possible. I’m here, fiend, Adrian sent out to the demon. Tell me your name! “You do not know, hound? We are Sluagh.” The demon laughed. Its massive body slowly began to spread apart down the middle into two halves. Each half grew a second arm and leg, and then repeated the process making four demons. “And we are here to make you one of us.” Sluagh, Adrian shook his head. It had been years since this demon had emerged from the Underworld. The Sluagh was a powerful demon, able to split into multiple parts as it had done the previous day in the street. The size of the army it could produce was nearly limitless, the fiend being composed of the spirits of evil men and women who were not welcome in Annwyn after death. Overkill, indeed. Isabelle had gone all-out on this one. Without waiting for their approach, Adrian charged the nearest demon. With this number of them on the loose, he’d never be able to seal them alone. Miriam, he pleaded. You can do this! “I don’t know how,” Miriam cried. As Adrian fought off one demon, sinking his teeth into the rotting, shadowy flesh of its thigh, another came from behind and knocked him onto his side. Adrian recovered quickly, focused on the new attacker. The Sluagh continued to multiply, and Adrian found himself surrounded by nearly a dozen of the demons in various stages of shifting. Some hadn’t fully formed from the shadows, while others appeared entirely solid. Five of the demons rushed at Adrian. He howled at them, unable to stave off the attack but refusing to give in. He launched again. The effort was futile, and the five of the Sluagh gripped at his fur. “We will enjoy your company.” The thousand voices of Sluagh spoke at once. The demon tightened its hand around

Adrian’s throat. Though he thrashed to try and summon a howl, he couldn’t break free. The world around him dimmed as he struggled to take in breaths. One thought crossed his mind as he sank into the darkness. Miriam, I love you. The air around him crackled as lightening struck the ground not forty feet away. The demon, startled, loosened its grip on his fur. “My mate,” he heard Miriam say. He turned quickly to look at her. She was writhing again, though she wasn’t simply struggling against the ropes. Her body was changing. A single, painful howl tore from her throat, causing Adrian to wince. Her arms and legs contorted, bones popping out of place and rearranging. The shadow ropes tore off her as if they were made of nothing more than tissue. Miriam’s body hunched over as her arms bent into a four-legged form. Dark brown fur matching her now-receding curls sprouted from her pores. Her face lengthened, canines protruded over her lips. Isabelle ceased her chanting abruptly. Her eyes bulged from their sockets as she seemed to consider the severity of the situation. Clearly she hadn’t anticipated this development. “Sluagh! Get them both!” “Mistress.” The legion of shades spoke in unison but remained still. I don’t think so. Miriam’s voice broke into Adrian’s thoughts, and he knew the demon heard her as well. The black hellhound, a vision of midnight beauty, padded over to Adrian, but her eyes fixed a deadly stare on the Sluagh. Go back to hell! Miriam threw her head back and sang to the storm overhead. Her baying shook even Adrian’s body, who felt the power in her voice. She had complete control over all in the field, and she compelled Adrian to sing with her. He obeyed, howling into the night with her. The ground shook again. Adrian watched as a rift opened through the field, severing the creek. Miriam continued to bay, and the rift continued to widen. A force from the depths sucked in one, then two, then ten of the Sluagh. The

remainder took the form of birds and attempted to fly away, but they, too, were pulled into the rift. “This can’t be,” Isabelle screamed. The edge of the fissure was creeping toward her protective circle, the only boundary between her and the demons. “This isn’t what was supposed to happen! Miriam, I’m your best friend.” She begged helplessly as she inched away from the hole. “Please!” Miriam quieted, and the fracture began to close slowly. Adrian also silenced himself. He watched her in awe, the petite ebony hellhound still buzzing with power. Inhaling deeply, she shifted into human form. She was naked and her hair was drenched, but she stood firmly next to Adrian. “My love,” she whispered, and reached down to him, stroking his fur gently. He tensed as she ran her finger along his back, palpating the barbs that extended from his upper vertebra. If he were a cat, he might have purred. “What shall we do with her?” She motioned to the taller witch. Send her to the abyss with the demon. He sent the thought to Miriam, though he knew she would not. “I should offer her the courtesy she wouldn’t extend to me. The right to a fair trial before hellhound and witch elders alike.” Miriam stood straight again and faced Isabelle. The other witch was huddled toward the back of her now useless divination circle, hugging herself and shivering. “I suppose I don’t need to tell you what might happen if you try to run from me.”

Chapter Nine

Miriam’s world became a temporary whirr. Everything happened quickly after Isabelle was apprehended. The councils were summoned, the hellhounds by Adrian’s telepathic connection to them, and the elder witches by cell phone. Miriam figured there was a magickal way to do it, but the mobile device was convenient enough. The hellhounds had appeared first, using whatever coordinates Adrian had given them to open a portal in the middle of the field. Miriam looked forward to learning that method of transportation, because it was nearly an hour before the first group of witch elders made it to the meadow. The trailhead was a two-mile hike to the creek. By that time, the hounds had already secured Isabelle and asked their first round of questions to both Miriam and Adrian. Miriam avoided eye contact with Isabelle. Giving the account of how her friend had betrayed her was the most difficult thing she’d ever had to do. The betrayal hurt enough, but what her testimony might do to Isabelle, even after what she’d put Miriam through, was somehow more painful knowing it might have been her in the same position. Two of the hellhounds had shifted and stood guard by Isabelle. Her hands had been bound by the elder witches to prevent her from performing magick. The hellhounds were added protection, and Miriam was jealous of their ability to shift seamlessly from human to hound without so much as a wince. Miriam’s first change into a hellhound had been painful. Her muscles and bones were still sore from stretching, reshaping, and compressing into her new form. Adrian promised her body would become used to the change, but for now she rested against the willow tree, watching Adrian as he gave his version of the events to the questioning elder witch. The old man stood stolid, arms crossed as he listened to Adrian, only giving a slight nod to indicate he was finished with his inquisition.

Standing on the edge of the small crowd, a light-haired witch, tall and lanky with a hooked nose, stood facing the setting sun. His piercing black eyes were focused on no particular point in the distance. Though he looked strong and powerful, Miriam knew turmoil brewed deep inside him. A warm hand rested on her arm. “I see you were able to find a towel,” Adrian teased, tugging on the terrycloth robe. “I think her name was Julia,” Miriam motioned to one of the remaining female hellhounds, a dark-haired girl in jeans and a black T-shirt. “She opened a portal right to her bathroom and pulled this out for me. I can’t wait to learn how to do that.” “Just one of the perks of being able to open and close the gates to the spirit world at will, I guess,” Adrian said flippantly. He pointed to the witch Miriam had just been observing. “Who is that?” She frowned sympathetically. “That’s Pieter, one of the elder witches. He was engaged to Isabelle.” “Must be a tough night for him then. He looks awfully young for an elder witch.” “Being an elder doesn’t mean being old. It means being dedicated to your practice, acting responsibly, and upholding the laws of the council. Pieter is powerful.” She smiled “But yes, he’s nearly two hundred years old.” Adrian wrapped an arm around Miriam’s waist, pulling her close to him. “Does that mean you’ll be this young and sexy for another few centuries?” “As long as the hellhound blood from my father hasn’t tainted my impeccable witch genetics,” Miriam taunted back, resting her head against his chest and inhaling deeply. “That’s something we’ll have to deal with, you know.” Miriam sighed. “My father has been missing all this time. Why hasn’t my mother spoken of him or attempted to locate him?” “You’ll have to ask her.” Adrian hugged her tighter. “I’m sure she has her reasons, but it will be good for you to speak to him yourself. He can teach you more about your hellhound nature than anyone in this pack can.”

“Really?” Miriam asked. “And how does your council feel about accepting a witch-hellhound hybrid into the pack?” “They’ll accept you, as long as I’m Alpha here.” Adrian planted a kiss on the top of her head. “After all, you’re my witch-hellhound hybrid.” Miriam was content with that response.

The End

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