Bishop was the only one with her right now. Everyone else had disappeared the moment they came home. “Where are the others?”
Bishop’s gaze dropped to her chest and he smiled. “You look amazing in that corset.”
“My boobs look ridiculous in it.”
“You’re hot as fuck in it.”
“Where are the others?”
“Those pants look like they were painted on.”
“Where. Are. The. Others.”
Bishop rubbed the back of his neck. “Cleaning up.”
It took a minute for the words to register and then Tilly rolled her shoulders back, “I want to see.”
“No you don’t. And I don’t want you to see it. None of us fucking do.”
Tilly pushed past him. It would have looked way more badass if she didn’t stumble so much. Bishop grabbed her hand and tugged her into his chest. “Don’t.”
“I’ve accepted it,” her tone was flat and emotionless. “I know what was done to me.”
“You… you remember?”
“How the fuck am I supposed to forget?” Now rage started to blow flames around her insides. Colors changed – turning lovely hues of red. “I want to see.”
“No.”
“Yes,” she shoved away from him. “I knew I wasn’t going to die a hero, Hound Dog. And I’m not going to enter this next life with a weakness.”
“What weakness, Tilly? Not seeing the evidence of your murder isn’t a weakness.”
“But avoidance is,” she jabbed a finger into his hard chest. “And that’s something this pack does way too much of.”
Bishop scowled, but like a good Hound, he didn’t argue with her. “Fine.”
They went up the steps and the smell of bleach made her cough. Drake was literally carving the bloody wall away with a circular saw. Baz was chiseling out tile while Valor ripped up the carpet in the living room.
They’ve done this before, she thought.
At once, they all looked up at her. Sebastian cursed, “Fuck, Bishop. You were supposed to keep her downstairs.”
“She wanted to see.” He crossed his arms over his chest and flicked his gaze to Tilly. “Go ahead and look around, Sweetness.”
Every step she took, the last moments of her life replayed in her head. Open the front door. Step back with a smile. See the problem. Fight the problem. Bam she was punched. The wind knocked out of her. She fought back. Strangling. Screaming. She tried to run towards the kitchen for a weapon. Her head slammed against the wall.
Tilly turned and saw where her head almost went through the dry wall.
Screams, demands, tears. More fighting. Tilly’s head slammed into the tile. She saw stars and lost consciousness for a moment.
Tilly took a few more slow steps forward, following the crime scene as it played out in her head. The Hounds kept silent while she continued to walk down her murder memory lane. She stopped where Drake stood.
This war was nothing but silent screams. No words were exchanged. She was dragged up onto her knees and the gun was shoved into her mouth. Tilly wrapped her lips around the barrel and bit down. Then she flipped her killer the bird. Pull the trigger, fuckface. End this. Because I’m not going to give you anything. The gun was yanked out of her mouth and Tilly felt the cold hard steel press against her forehead. She didn’t have time to think about what she was leaving behind. BAM!
Her life ended.
One click. One bullet. One second.
Gone.
Tilly exhaled a shaky breath. Looking past Drake, she saw Valor still on his knees with a razor in one hand, bloodied carpet in the other. It pissed her off that the carpet had been ruined. She liked that carpet. “I was dragged out of the house and buried in the backyard. What a sack of shit.”
“Who?” Valor stood and marched over to her, his eyes hardening. “Who did this to ye, lass?”
She swallowed the lump in her throat remembering everything Satan had said to her. "I'll tell you when I'm ready."
"The fuck, Tills?" Baz walked over and stood to her left. "Tell us now while we can still catch him."
Tilly tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. She didn't want to tell them that she'd made a deal with the Devil about this. She had no intentions of taking the glorious revenge away from herself, or her pack for that matter, but she also knew she would have to be at her best to do it and that wasn't going to be anytime soon.
Holy shit, she never saw any of this coming. Not her death. Not her second chance at life. Not her future...
"Oh my god," tears welled up and flowed down her cheeks, "I have a future now." Possibilities, freedom, excitement and so much more bubbled out of Tilly and she started shaking. Emotions ricocheted around and made the lava in her veins feel zippy and crackly.
Baz brought her in for a hug and stroked her hair. "Shhhh," he kissed the top of her head.
They escorted her into the kitchen and she plopped down into her chair. Drake poured her a glass of water and she guzzled it. "I don't think I really got it, you know? Like, he said I could be a Hound and my mind stayed so focused on you all that I didn't think about myself and what it really meant. I didn't think about the idea that I had all the time in the world to live and learn and get epic shit done."
Bishop chuckled. "Fuck yeah you do."
"Why?" Baz asked. "Why did you think about us?"
Drake snorted from over by the fridge. "All she's done is think about us. Since the moment Val and Bishop came to her about helping them find us, brother. All this girl has done is put her energy into us."
"How do you know that?" Baz turned to Drake.
Drake looked positively furious. He pounded his fist against his chest. "I fucking feel it. I feel everything she does."
Well... shit. Tilly hadn't put a lot of thought into what it meant giving Drake a piece of her soul. "We need to talk."
Drake's jaw clenched. He dropped his gaze to the ground and nodded.
"Now," she emphasized. Tilly left the kitchen fully expecting Drake to follow her. She walked right through the living room and out onto the patio. Stepping over her bloody drag marks that went straight out to the woods, she hung a left and headed to the dojo. Drake stayed close to her, his body heat felt like the fires he was so fond of building.
When she went inside, Tilly didn't kick off her boots. They were laced clean up to her mid-calf and she didn’t feel like undoing them. Besides, she felt super badass in this attire and it did wonders for her self-confidence. Which was necessary right now because she also felt incredibly vulnerable.
She turned, "Drake I—"
He slammed her against the wall and pressed his forehead to hers. "Why? Why the fuck did you do this to me?"
"Because if I didn't... I'd have been lost for good."
Drake’s next growl had zero threat behind it. His brown eyes darkened and swirled with emotions she doubted he'd ever expressed before. And that was okay. He could feel scared. He could feel angry. He could feel anything he wanted to now.
Tilly cleared her throat, "You once said that I was here to break the pack apart just to play with all your busted up pieces. Maybe you were right, a little bit. So, what else could I do but break apart right along with you and let you play with a piece of me?"
Drake’s jaw ticked but he didn’t say a word yet.
“Think of it like you do your stones. You bust that rock up and collect all the rubble, just so you can fit it all back together into something beautiful. Something worthy of appreciating, keeping, loving.” She gulped. “But those masterpieces come at a price.” She cupped his face, “This is the price, D.”
Drake’s shaky exhale pulverized her. "I feel... I feel like I'm being torn apart on the inside."
"Because that's how I feel?"
"Is that how you feel?"
"Yes. Maybe." Tears started piling up again, damnit. Why was she such a crier now? Did Hounds cry a lot? That would suck ass. "You have a soul, Drake. Your curse was lifted the minute you were ready for
it to be gone."
The Hound shook his head again.
“Yes, Drake.” Tilly pressed her palms against his chest. "I saw it, I was there."
He swallowed.
"You know what I'm talking about. Admit it. Accept it." Gee, she sounded a little like the Devil right now.
Drake's hands slid down her body until they were wrapped around her waist. His forehead remained pressed against hers. There was no personal space at all. And she wished he'd sprout six more arms to touch her with. Her body craved physical affection like she used to crave donuts.
The world froze for a moment when he said, "You're right. I do have a soul. You fucking brought it back from the dead."
Chapter 6
Drake was so fucked in the head, he was impressed he could make his lips flap and words come out. He owed her this moment. Owed her this truth first. Yeah, he should have probably given it to his twin, but with Tilly staring at him with those green eyes and lush lips and the fresh scent of her arousal tingling his nose, Drake wanted to confess to her first.
“I came home from the hunt early. I wanted to… to tell you something. And then I walk through the door and see your blood and brains and I can’t even fucking remember what else now. It was like my world was annihilated just by opening the door to my own fucking house. And when I saw your spirit," Fuck he hoped he didn't yack all over her hot as fuck corset, "I lost my shit, woman.” The vision of seeing her buried in the shallow grave would haunt him forever. As would his regrets for not getting home faster. “I felt it explode inside me. My soul. I still feel it."
His walls crashed down the night she died and when Drake told her deaf corpse that he loved her, all his defenses exploded. Like motherfucking dynamite had been strapped to his foundation, Drake’s carefully constructed kingdom of stone and hate collapsed, leaving him raw and exposed.
He should have hated her for it. Instead, he hated himself. The moment he allowed his feelings to have a voice, Drake lost the very thing that had resurrected his soul. He’d lost Tilly.
Guilt and fear and lots of other what the fucks swirled in him now. Lucifer knew it, too. He fucking knew this would happen. Long ago, he told Drake that something would come along and turn his world upside down and he would never want to be turned upright ever again.
Tilly’s death was that fucking moment.
Then his woman does one better and gives her soul to not just Drake, but insists the whole pack gets a piece? Who does that? And why did she have to feel this way for them? The center of Drake’s ribcage ached so badly, he pulled one hand away from her so he could rub his chest. "I don't like this," he whispered. "It's too much."
She thrust her chin out at him, "Deal with it. I had to."
Her love was... outrageously powerful. And it fused with his soul, propelling his emotions forward with no reason he could detect. Drake felt like a goddamn volcano about to erupt.
"You always had your soul," she whispered. "It might have been dead inside, but you kept it anyway."
"And you resurrected it," he stroked her mouth with his thumb. "I don't know what to do with it now."
"Take care of it."
But he’d done that already, once. He took care of it by killing the damned thing. What if it happened again? Did he want it to happen again? His fear spiked. "What if I wreck it?"
What if, in his hate and fury, he ended up destroying his soul and in the process, damaged or killed her piece too? Jesus, he couldn't let that happen. He'd do right by her. He’d protect the precious gift Tilly gave him with everything he had.
"You won't, Drake. You're too good to destroy it."
I'm not good, I'm a depraved dog. A slave. "I don't deserve you."
"Hmmph," she smiled like what he'd said was a joke. He was being dead fucking serious.
"I mean it, I don't deserve you." No one does. You’re too fucking good for this world or the one you’ve just landed in. But I’m going to do everything I can to make you happy and want to stay with us forever.
"Can you just shut the fuck up and kiss me, Hound?"
Drake deadpanned her for a heartbeat before giving in. Quite honestly, he wanted this kiss more than anything in his life and had for quite a while. If she was willing to let him, then he'd take this moment. He would take everything she offered him.
Wrapping one hand around the back of her head, his other held her waist and Drake slanted his mouth over hers. He intended to be confident. Kiss her like she was the moon he bayed to every night. Fuse their mouths with a gentleness she deserved. It started out like that – beautiful and safe and completely natural. Annnnd the sweetness lasted for all of one fraction of a second because once their lips touched, Drake turned into a blazing ball of hellfire. Tilly was his kerosene.
She grabbed him by the shirt and tugged. The fabric ripped. He lost a little more control and deepened the kiss. She tasted like motherfucking heaven. Her tongue was hot velvet. Her taste was sweet. Her heat seared him to the bone.
What was supposed to be a safe, sweet, passionate kiss swiftly morphed into a war between them. Their tongues fought to dominate. Their hands roamed over each other so frantically, Drake half-wished he had six more to work with.
"Fuck," he breathed against her. "You fucking drive me wild." He began fumbling with the buckle to her pants. "You've always driven me so fucking wild."
"Help me out of this."
“My pleasure,” Drake pulled a blade from his pocket. He was going to turn this sexy outfit into ribbons of leather and use them to tie her up and fuck her for days.
She slapped his hand away before he had the chance to make the first cut. "No! Satan will kill me if I destroy this. We gotta get it off the nice way."
"Mmmph, you mean the slow way."
"Shut up and start unhooking things."
His nimble fingers made quick work of getting that damned corset off. In hind-sight, he was glad he hadn't destroyed it. She looked so fucking hot in it, he'd likely hunt with a constant hard-on from this day forward. Worth it. So fucking worth it.
Her breasts popped out and she sighed with relief when the corset dropped to the ground. Drake’s gaze bounced from left to right. She was fucking glorious even when only half undressed.
"Fuck me," he growled.
"I’m trying to. Help me with my boots."
They bent at the same time and crashed heads. "Fuck, shit!" he pressed his hand against her head, "I'm so sorry."
"Be sorry later," she tugged on her laces. Her hands shook so badly, Drake worried about her balance as a newly made Hell Hound. Then Tilly’s arousal slammed into him again and his body roared in response. Fuck it, if she fell, he’d catch her. If she stumbled, he’d brace her. From this point on, Drake would be at her beck and call and he couldn’t have asked for a better life than this. A greater purpose. A fresh swell of pride and love burst through him at the thought. Never did he think he would feel this way for someone.
They say the most damaged of animals have the most love to give. Like they make up for all they didn’t get and give it back tenfold. Drake always thought that was bullshit. Wounded animals just try to survive. They don’t trust. They don’t expect kindness. They have nothing to give because all their energy was spent surviving.
Not so.
Not Drake.
It wasn’t just his soul that had been resurrected. His entire existence just elevated. He’d been given a higher purpose. Something to die for and live for: His pack. His motherfucking pack.
And Tilly was the heart and soul for all of them.
With a few tugs and grunts they got her boots off. Next came her pants. Thank fuck they peeled down with hardly any effort. He needed to give his woman relief. It was the loudest demand screaming in his head.
As much as Drake wanted to strip out of his clothes too, once he saw her sweet pussy, he couldn't hold off any longer. He pushed her back on the mat and slung her legs over his shoulders. Then. He. Feasted.
Sweet mother of all things unholy, n
o woman should taste this delicious. His dick strained against the zipper of his leathers while his tongue lapped up all the glorious nectar she had to offer. Tilly was swollen and soaked. She was a freshly made Hell Hound and that came with a level of heat that was unparalleled.
"Fuck yes, Hound. Don't stop!"
No problem. Drake licked her folds and sank two fingers deep into her channel. He felt her squeeze and pulse. She was going to come any second. Drake lifted off of her immediately.
She cried out her frustration and lifted her head up to snarl, "Why'd you stop? Don't stop! You can't fucking stop!"
"You want to come?" He rubbed her clit with the pad of his thumb. "You'll come when I say come for me."
Tilly's body blushed and she slammed her palm down on the mat. "You're such a—”
"Assholey fuckaroo?" Drake's smile said it all. He wanted her riled up. She probably fucked like a champ when she was all hot and bothered. He would bet his left nut she fucked like a Goddess when she was halfcocked with no place to explode.
Ever since the day they went at it in this dojo, Drake had fantasized about fucking her in here. Getting her all good and mad and riled up just so he could feel her explode all over his cock.
"Woman, you have no idea what true sexual frustration is until you've been in my position. I’ve laid alone in my bed listening to you howl for everyone else." The best part about this was he could feel her feelings. Yeah she was cranked up and ready to fire right now, but she also fucking loved this as much as he did.
She was right. They were the same person.
Should that frighten him? Fuck no, it should frighten the rest of the world. They were going to be motherfucking glorious together.
He dipped two fingers into her pussy again. "So fucking wet," he pulled them out and licked his digits clean.
"Oh god," she groaned. Sweat beaded across her forehead. She reached down and started rubbing her clit.
"No way, Goldilocks," he ripped her hand away from her pussy, then licked her fingers clean. Tilly responded with a growl as she gyrated against him. He'd never seen something so beautiful in all his days.
Pinning her arms down to her side, Drake bent forward and started tongue fucking her again. Every time he could sense she was close to coming, he'd back the fuck off. When she came, the world was going to hear her howl.
Hard to Kill (Hell Hounds Harem Book 6) Page 4