Dark and Deadly: Eight Bad Boys of Paranormal Romance (99 page)

Alex gripped his machete, wondering if the woman had made it to shelter or if her bloody remains even now stained the earth. The thought disturbed him and disrupted his focus. He shouldn’t care. Casualties were expected. But the thought of those beautiful eyes closed forever made his gut clench with despair.

“How many more do you think there are?” Caleb asked.

“Five? Fifty?”

“That’s my count, too.” Caleb smiled grimly. “See you on the other side, brother.”

A promise of comrades. Today they might die protecting the Beyond, but tomorrow they would awake in the afterlife, purified by their sacrifice.

Or so they’d been promised.

Shoulder to shoulder, they advanced on the pack, but once they hit the middle, they turned their backs to one another as they fought. The hellhounds countered with the kind of military precision that had Alex convinced they were capable of higher thinking, regardless of their bestial appearance. The hellhounds positioned at the sides darted forward in synchronized assaults while others circled around from behind. A small, wiry one hung back, watching and assessing, while the leader leapt to a boulder which gave it a bird’s-eye view of the battle. It surveyed them with glowing lantern eyes and bared teeth. Strategizing. Only a fool would see it as anything less.

Alex took it all in as he swung his blade, intent on cutting through the first hound he reached and clearing a direct path to the leader, but before he realized it, they’d isolated him with a skill he could hardly grasp, leaving him trapped in the middle, separated from Caleb, who fought with a steady, if frantic, pace. Other hounds rushed in and expanded the space between them with their attack, making Alex swing but twisting away before he could do more than draw blood. Wearing him down. He recognized the tactic even as he felt himself tiring.

The big one leapt from the boulder, intent on finishing him off. Alex feinted to the right, turning in mid-step and catching the big one in flight. Blood spewed and its body went one way, the head the other. He finished his rotation, catching a different one with the machete and eviscerating it with a slice it didn’t see coming.

Another creature sideswiped Alex with a body blow that took him to his knees. It was exactly the opportunity the small, wiry one wanted. Downed prey ready for him to finish. The beast landed on top of Alex as he tried to roll away. Claws tore his coat and dug down to flesh. One hellhound sank its teeth into his leg, another his arm, keeping him pinned for the wiry one on top of him.

Suddenly, a furious bout of barking joined the guttural growls and vicious howls of the hounds. From the corner of his eye, Alex saw a mottled blur speed across the patches of snow.

The woman’s dog.

Dread pooled inside him. Surely the woman wouldn’t have come back? The dog plowed into the hellhound poised on top of Alex, knocking it off and following it down. More barking joined the chaos and Alex’s heart seized with fear.

They still had him pinned down and now a huge one pounced on top of him and moved in for the kill. Alex couldn’t get his arm free, couldn’t get the hilt of his machete in a grip that would allow him to swing with the other hand. He bucked and twisted, but it was no use.

A blast from behind him echoed off the shadowed mountains and snow-banked sky. Something massive collapsed on top of him, nearly crushing his chest. Another
boom
and the teeth in his thigh let loose as a hellhound yelped in pain.

Alex kicked and twisted, trying to get his sword free, trying to get out from under the weight that had him trapped. The hellhound that had gone for his throat lay prone on top of him, skull ripped open. Same for the one sprawled beside him. Several shots went wild, tunneling into the hard ground and spraying dirt everywhere. A bullet caught one of the hounds in the flank and backed it up. It growled with rage and snapped deadly jaws in Alex’s direction. Another shot hit the hellhound in the gut and the wounded beast bounded away, leaving a trail of blood behind. Alex finally managed to turn his head around to see behind him.

The woman with the pink polka-dot hat and puffy blue coat stood ten feet away, her rifle up and her pretty blue eyes staring at him down the barrel. Her dogs growled and bared teeth around her, fur standing on end and eyes wild.

The remaining hellhounds drew in ranks, forming an arc around their downed prey. Alex struggled to get out from under the corpse that had him trapped, but it was a huge deadweight over his torso and chest.

His death was a given, but the woman… She’d come back to help him. A stranger. He didn’t understand why she’d done it, but the kindness of the act burrowed deep within him. He couldn’t let her repayment be death by hellhound.

The big, mottled dog—she’d called it Belle—and the wiry hellhound that had been so shrewd ran from the cover of the trees, side by side. Confused, Alex watched Belle spin to a stop in front of the woman. The dog gave a deep, commanding bark and the hellhound halted beside her. The woman’s other dogs cringed back, brushing against her legs to avoid contact with the hellhound, but Belle barked again, communicating something that calmed the others. Not even the little one ran; not even the bigger ones turned on the abomination in their midst.

Gloriously fearless, Belle nudged the wiry hellhound with her snout. Like it was a collie instead of a killer of the most devious breed. The two animals were nearly the same size, but that didn’t make them equal. Why didn’t the hellhound attack? Kill?

Instead it stood docilely beside Belle, tongue lolling against its black gums, canines so long they curled as huge spires of saliva dripped down to the ground. It had massive jaws, a built-to-slaughter body, and it could rip the woman in two with minimal effort. But it didn’t even try.

At last, Alex freed himself from the deadweight on top of him and stumbled to his feet. Blood soaked the ground and slain hellhounds lay scattered all around him. His gaze found Caleb, mangled and broken on the ground. His eyes stared sightlessly upward. His throat had been ripped open and the hounds had feasted on him until there was no hope that he’d ever draw breath again.

Pain seared Alex from the inside out. They’d been friends, of a sort. As close as any creature of the Beyond was allowed to be. Grief made him feel hollow, but he steeled himself against it and took a step away. His thigh burned from deep bites, his chewed arm dripped blood. The woman watched him with equal parts fear and concern.

Why did it look like the hellhound had joined her dog pack in protecting her? What were the other hellhounds surrounding them waiting for? Why didn’t they attack? And what was with her crazy dog?

The woman looked like she had as many questions as he. Her eyes shifted from side to side, looking for danger. He met her confused gaze and saw the panic lurking there.

“Back away,” he breathed.

She didn’t move. She was afraid to move and she couldn’t see the hellhounds. She’d been shooting blind, aiming at the symptom without seeing the disease. She didn’t even know that one of the creatures stood at her feet.

As if hearing him, the hellhound gave a deep, threatening growl that rumbled low in its throat. The other hellhounds skittered back—just a step. Just enough to betray their fear.

Bewildered, Alex watched the creature stare down the others, only then noticing its eyes. Hellhounds had eyes like a winter moon—silver white lanterns with black pits at the center. This one’s eyes had an icy blue iris surrounding the pupil—so pale he might have missed it if the beast hadn’t been holding still.

The moment stretched as Alex braced for what came next. The woman cocked her rifle just as the blue-eyed hellhound lunged at Alex. He was ready to cut it down, but it veered and brushed passed him with only a glance as it launched itself at the stragglers, chasing them into the woods.

“Belle, stay!” the woman said sharply, calling her dog back when it tried to follow.

Alex watched the hellhounds disappear into the trees with bewilderment, leaving him standing in a clearing filled with dead hellhounds, owing his life to a human female—one dressed up like a blue frosted cupcake with pink sprinkles on top.

Lilly didn’t lower the barrel of the rifle, but she wasn’t going to shoot the stranger. She wasn’t going to do anything that might bring back…

“What the hell was that?” she demanded, still trying to find words for what she’d seen. What she
hadn’t
seen.

The stranger standing in front of her looked ready to keel over, but he managed to catch her gaze and hold it with his strangely colored eyes. Not brown, not green, but some mixed up, striking version of both. He looked nearly as stunned as she felt.

She squared her shoulders and scowled when he didn’t answer. “I asked you a question.”

“I can’t tell you what they are,” he said.

“You can or I’ll call 9-1-1 and tell them there’s been a shooting. Possibly a fatal one.”

Her words made him still. Not that he believed her. She wouldn’t have believed her either. She was shaking so hard she had to give in and lower the barrel of her rifle. Her dogs circled anxiously at her feet. Harley—a petite Pomeranian who thought he was king of the jungle—danced on his hind legs and rested his front paws on her knees. His fluffy little ears were pinned and his brown eyes wide. Poor thing was terrified. So was she.

“Is that a dog?” the stranger asked in a deep, husky voice. He stared at Harley with a cross between fascination and disgust.

Lilly scooped up the little dog. “What were they?” she repeated. It was hard to look tough with a Pomeranian in your arms, but she did her best.

“They?”

She nodded. It had felt like
they.
Many. Multiple. An invisible threat that had come from all sides. Whatever
they
were, they’d left tracks and blood. They’d held the stranger down. At least that’s how it had seemed. She’d fired at them, not even knowing what she was shooting at.

The stranger gave her a hard look and she thought he might not answer again. It seemed to worry him, her asking. It worried her, too.

“Tell me,” she said, and fear gave the order a ring of desperation he undoubtedly heard.

“Hellhounds,” he answered with obvious misgivings.

“What?”

“You heard me.”

Yes, she’d heard. She just couldn’t believe what she’d heard. She swept the clearing with her gaze, remembering the sense of danger so thick it had nearly paralyzed her. When the stranger told her to run, she had. She’d
felt
the peril in the air. But Belle had bounded off and Lilly had come after her. She’d seen the Great Dane slam into something that seemed to have the man trapped and then she’d watched in horror as his limbs had been jerked and torn at by something else that churned the dirt and gravel but couldn’t be seen.

“Why couldn’t I see them?”

“Because you’re human. You’re not meant to see them.”

She didn’t know how to respond to that so she simply stared at him, speechless. Her mouth was probably open, but she was too numb to care.

He moved forward, wincing and unsteady. Lilly forced herself not to step back, but he was tall enough that she had to look up to meet his gaze and she knew that beneath his black jacket his body was layered in muscle. She’d had a taste of his strength when he’d yanked the barrel of her rifle up and held her against him. The memory made her ridiculously breathless.

“Who are you?” she asked.

“Alex Moore.”

She’d been prepared for more evasion but he offered his name like it should mean something. Anything.

“Why are you here?”

“Why are you?”

Lilly frowned at him. “That’s not your business.”

“My reason’s not yours either.”

He raised his brows, daring her to argue. She might have been intimidated if not for the way his hand trembled where it gripped the hilt of a blade that stopped just short of being a sword.

Machete.
That’s what it was. The man was carrying a freaking
machete.
He took another step closer.

“That’s close enough,” she told him.

With a shake of his head, he sheathed his weapon and raised his bloody hands, palms out. “I mean you no harm.”

His deep voice did funny things to her insides. Or maybe that was simply shock.

She wanted to believe him, though. She was up here, miles from the nearest city, all alone with nothing but an empty shotgun and a pack of dogs she’d inherited from her sister. Of course she wanted to believe he meant her no harm.

His unusual eyes were the only light in a face that didn’t smile. He was big, covered in gore, and out in the middle of nowhere. Her gaze shifted to the mutilated body of the man who’d come with him. She’d arrived in time to see something eviscerate him, but all she’d witnessed was his thrashing and screaming and a bloody death that seemed to be inflicted by the churning air around him.

The stranger—Alex Moore—watched her with a guarded expression. His eyes shimmered with pain.

“Was he your friend?” she asked softly.

“Yes.”

The word seemed to crack something open inside him. Lilly understood. Her sister had died less than a month ago and the loss still felt like an echo chamber. Hollow, yet filled with memories.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

He looked startled by the sentiment, or maybe it was the empathy he heard. For a moment, their eyes locked again and Lilly felt like his gaze was a towing beam, pulling her in.

She forced herself to look away while she fumbled for her phone in her pocket. Getting a signal would be a miracle, though. On a clear day, it was iffy up here. With the sky so low that it practically touched the ground…

“What are you doing?” he asked when she held her phone in the air and turned around.

“Looking for a signal. You need a doctor and your friend…”

Needs a coroner
.

“No. We need to get out of here before they come back.”

She agreed wholeheartedly. The sense of eminent threat may have faded with the stench of rotten eggs, but she didn’t doubt for a moment that it—
they—
would return. Of course they would, those ghostly demons that could rip a man to pieces without being seen.