Valor owned a substantial amount of guilt for bringing innocents into their home the night Bishop was possessed. The outcome of Valor’s decision was one he would never forgive himself for. None of it was Bishop’s fault – the weight of those deaths rested entirely on Valor’s shoulders.
As leader of the pack, Valor was the ruthless motherfucker who gave no apologies. Every calculated move he ever made was not without serious consideration. It was because of that, Valor took full blame for everything that went wrong with his pack and the people who crossed their barriers and stepped into their world. People… like Tilly.
Valor sat at the head of the kitchen table and watched Drake’s gaze lock onto Tilly when she came into view. Drake’s jaw clenched and released. Watching Tilly begin The Haunting phase last night had been hell for all of them. Drake, however, took it the hardest. Valor wondered if it was because the Hell Hound could feel her through the piece of her soul he now carried, or if it was something else.
“Sooo,” Tilly tucked her hair behind her ears and fidgeted in her seat. “What all did I do last night?”
Interesting choice of words, Valor thought. She wasn’t going to tell them more than they revealed to her. That meant the lass had plenty to hide and they would have to uncover her secrets as they presented themselves through The Haunting, or put her on the spot and force the truths out of her somehow.
“Who hit you?” Drake didn’t spare two damns about the rest. “Let’s start with that.”
They stared at one another, then Tilly was the first to break her gaze. She clasped her hands together and rested them on the table. “You’ll have to be more specific.”
Valor’s brow furrowed. “Ye were hit more than once?”
“Save that pitiful look for someone who deserves it, alpha.” Tilly sighed and leaned back in her chair. “Everything has a price.”
“You fucking let someone hit you?” Drake’s rage turned his aura fire engine red.
“Calm yourself, Hound.” Valor kept a visual on Drake while addressing their woman, “Lass, ye need to explain this. Now. Ye canna understand what it’s like for us to sit here with our imaginations running amuck.”
Her cheeks turned red, “I don’t understand why it matters.”
“Because anyone who lays a motherfucking hand on you deserves to have them cut off.” Bishop’s voice wasn’t raised. It was just a simple fact: Touch their woman, lose a limb.
Tilly's eyes shined with unshed tears. "It..." Her sweet face scrunched up while she gathered courage to speak, "I have a lot of enemies. It's one of the many reasons I didn't have a social media account, I didn’t want it easy for anyone to find me. And I lived in an apartment complex with no other tenants because I didn’t want anyone else caught in the crossfire, but didn’t want to be so obvious about being a single woman living on her own in a single family home either." She fidgeted in her seat again. "Look, whatever you saw, don't worry about it. There were only a few times I was caught, and quite frankly, I don't blame them for what they did. Didn't mean I was going to let them repeat it."
Valor leaned in, “You’re not easing our worries here, lass.”
"I stole from a lot of people, guys. I'm not proud of it. I just didn't give a shit about right or wrong. I only cared about survival. About finding an end to my curse."
Drake deadpanned her, "So whoever we saw hit you square in the face was the victim, is that what you're trying to say to us?"
"Not a victim, just another person who wanted what I had."
"You were hiding from him," Drake argued. "Which meant you were afraid of him and retaliation."
It dawned on her then. She had a clear recollection of exactly who The Haunting had been about. "There was one person in particular who I didn't want to have find me."
Valor cocked an eyebrow, "Who?"
"Steve Alder was his name. He and I ran in a few of the same magic circles. He was..." she shivered, "he wasn't right in the head. I could take a beating, but he would have done worse if time allowed it."
Valor's heart thudded in his chest. "Steve. Alder."
She nodded. "If you ever see him, just stay the hell away. He's fucking nuts."
"You don't have to worry about him, Sweetness," Bishop's body was as tense as a snare drum, "He's fucking dead and gone."
Relief made her body sag in the chair. "Well, may he rot in Hell then."
"How many times did he... harm ye, lass?" Fuck, Valor wanted to know if that whoreson had done more than just hit her, but his temper was flaring and the wrath that seemed so potent in him lately wasn't something he wanted to indulge.
"Just the once," Tilly batted the worry away, "I knew a lot more magic than he did and he fucking knew it. I could have brought him down to his knees and turned him into a mindless puddle of piss with a few spells but didn't get the chance. Thank fuck, too. The magic I'd have used on him would have cost me big time. I don't know if it would have been worth it." She tapped her fingers on the table, "You're sure he’s dead?"
"Very," Bishop growled.
"When?"
"Right around the time the twins went missing."
Anger flared in her eyes. She gave Drake her full attention, "Do you think he had something to do with that?"
Drake slowly shook his head. “Hard to say. But he was killed, so if he had something to do with it, he didn’t for long. And whoever is still causing this shit show didn’t really need him to keep the action going.”
Tilly sighed. "I don't know what you guys want me to tell you. I don't know much about Steve other than what I've already said. And if he's dead, it wouldn’t matter anymore anyways."
Drake knocked his bloody knuckles on the table, "You want us to accept the fact that you've armed yourself to the teeth and lived alone and lead an extremely dangerous life?"
"That was my choice," Tilly shrugged, "And I have no regrets. I did what I could with what I had.” She swallowed, audibly. “I'm not at all surprised I ended up in Hell when I died."
"Who killed you, Tilly?"
"Not today, Drake."
"Today, tomorrow, next fucking year. You'll have to tell us eventually, why wait?"
Her cheeks turned redder by the second. "I don't want to tell you yet."
"Why?" Valor growled.
"Because I'm not fucking ready, that's why!" She pushed away from the table and the chair scraped across the floor as loud as a freight train.
Bishop snatched her arm before she could stalk out. "You can tell how good a man is by his priorities."
Her breath hitched.
"You're at the top, Sweetness. For all of us. We might have all done things that sent us to Hell, but we're still a bunch of righteous men who are trying to do right by this world... and right by you. Don’t deny us this chance to avenge you."
"It's not you I'm denying right now. It’s myself." Tilly wrenched her arm away and stormed out of the kitchen.
Tilly was so god damn mad she was ready to spit tacks. Why couldn't she just tell them everything and be done with it?
Because what if they hate you? What if they don't want you in the pack once they find out?
There were a thousand reasons to reject someone. Tilly spent her whole first life not giving a shit about others and never giving anyone ammo to use against her. With the exception of the handful of people she kept semi-close to her heart, the rest could kiss her sweet ass. Liam, for one, had been a man who held no judgments. It wasn't that he had some kind bleeding heart for her. Hell no. His moral compass was just as shoddy as hers and money screamed while ethics whispered. They used each other and were okay with it.
Zaza was another one who never cast judgements on her. But she had used him every time too. Never once did she summon Zaza for anything other than for her own personal gains.
Vivian was another. Tilly used her sister as a lifeboat. When Tilly sank, she could pull the rope that tied her to Vivian and find reason and meaning to come up for air again. Vivian just never knew about it. To
Viv, it would have looked like late night phone calls, stupid text messages, and a bucket list.
Jesus fucking Christ, Tilly felt like such a shitty human. Was there anyone she hadn't used?
Tilly marched out onto the patio. Birds and bees were making such a fucking racket, she wished she had a set of Valor's ear muffs from the shooting range with her.
The smell of a banked fire wafted in the air and she stalked through the yard, past the fire pit, and over to the pool. Holy shit, the waterfall wall was finished. When the Hell had Drake found the time to do it? Did the Hound never sleep?
"It's amazing what rage can do for one's productivity."
She didn't turn around to face Drake. God damnit, why did he always have to follow her around?
He sat down on the edge of a lounge chair and leaned his elbows on his knees. Too afraid she would cave and start crying, Tilly kept her gaze straight ahead and dipped her legs into the pool. "Looks beautiful."
He didn't respond.
"Listen, I just... I appreciate you guys trying to stick up for me, but it isn't necessary. Not even if Steve Alder was still around. I can take care of myself."
"Never said you couldn't. That’s not what this is about though."
"It's not?" Now she turned and glowered, "Then tell me, Drake, why else would my past matter so much to you if not for you all to get your rocks off rescuing the damsel in distress."
"It matters because you fucking matter. We want to know everything about you. The paths you walked to get to this finish line matter, Tilly."
"Do you know everything about each other? Nope. You don't. We should all get to keep some secrets."
"Not anymore." Drake warned, "You want in this pack, Goldilocks, then you're going to come clean." He pounded on his chest, "I can feel you in here, woman. I can tell when you're hurting and when you're fucking scared."
Shit, she didn't know that was a thing. Shit, shit, shit! Dread filled her from toes to tongue.
"And I fucking know when you’re out of your mind with lust and rage and everything else." Drake breathed heavily, his jaw clenching as he ground his teeth. "I don't want to ruin this piece of you, okay? I'm trying to understand it so I can take good care of you. If not all of you, then at least this piece," he smacked his chest again. "But you've got to give a little. Throw us a bone, woman." He pulled out his ratty book and pen and tossed it on the concrete between them. "If you can't say it, write it. You want to take your time telling the rest of the pack, fine. But I don't have any judgments. I will cast no fucking stones. None of us would."
"Don't be so sure."
Drake froze and a new wave of anger darkened his eyes. "Now who's judging?" He pushed off the chair and stalked off.
Tilly spent the rest of the day in the dojo beating the piss out of a punching bag. It felt so good to hit, she kept on doing it. Eventually, her knuckles busted, her arms turned to noodles, and she'd fall on her ass and begin to dry heave. Miraculously, after a few moment’s rest, her body rejuvenated and healed. She was able to bash the bag all over again.
Being a Hell Hound certainly had some fabulous perks.
The downside was the sensory overload. And the insatiable sexual appetite.
She hadn't wanted to use the pack for her pleasure - not after the way her guilt already weighed on her - so she'd taken care of business herself. If they heard her howls from the dojo, none of them came running to investigate.
Spending the day alone with her thoughts and guilt and worry had exhausted her. She was so dog tired, she passed on dinner.
Baz was still sleeping in her bed. Geez, he’d slept the entire day away. His sleep patterns were all over the place, at least for as long as she'd known him. So when Tilly crawled into bed with the Hound still snoring, she didn't think twice about it being weird.
Drake's pad and pen sat on her bedside table. He must have brought it up some time earlier that afternoon as a subtle reminder that he was still waiting for her to spill her secrets. As she curled into Baz's side, Tilly glared at the pen and imagined stabbing someone in the eyes with the damned thing.
She wasn't ready to write her demons down. Or was she? Would it make her feel better to get it over and done with or make everything worse? Spilling her life's guts out to the pack was going to have to happen eventually if she was going to stay with them.
Baz growled into his pillow. Sleeping, he looked identical to Drake. With a bark, Baz grabbed the bedsheets and yanked them off.
His shirt had ridden up his stomach, showing off one fine as fuck physique. He didn't have any tattoos, but that body of his was still a work of fucking art. Tilly's focus was glued on his Adonis belt. That V on him funneled all her desires down to what hid under the flimsy fabric of his pants.
She watched his cock grow long and thick under his clothing. Tilly swallowed the lump in her throat and bit her bottom lip.
Should she?
Would it be wrong?
Fuck it. Tilly reached over and tugged his waistband down, freeing his gorgeous cock. Good god Sebastian was so fucking pretty. Could cocks be pretty? Yup.
A low growl snapped her attention up to Sebastian's face. His eyes were narrowed slits. She could barely tell he was looking at her. His lips curled into a snarl and it turned her on big time. One thing she could say for certain with the men in this pack was they loved dominating. And it was something that thrilled her to no end.
Baz raised his arm and crooked his finger. He lured her in like a fish on a line. He didn't say a word as he put his hand on the top of her head and guided her mouth down towards his dick. She smiled and licked what he wanted her to taste.
Fuck, Baz had an incredible scent – like fresh citrus and cut grass. And his cum tasted a lot like pineapples. No lie. He was fucking delicious.
Tilly sucked on the head of his cock and coaxed a groan from him. With his hand still on her head, she allowed him to set the pace and drive this moment however he wanted to. Every once in a while, she'd scrape her teeth down the length of his shaft and he would hiss through clenched teeth.
"I want to come down your throat," his voice was so deep it didn't sound real.
His hips began to thrust upwards, driving his cock further into her mouth. She allowed it, if only to see how far she could take him…. How far they could take each other.
His breathes turned ragged and his balls tightened under her hand. She felt the warm sweet jets of pleasure spurt down her throat and she swallowed every goddamn drop. Pulling away, Tilly licked the corners of her mouth and grinned. Baz’s eyes were still narrow slits and his focus was one hundred percent on her. He crooked his finger again, coaxing her to climb up and straddle him.
His big hands sank into her thighs. She bent down to kiss him, and while his tongue penetrated her mouth, his cock slid right into her pussy.
"So fucking wet," he moaned. He held her steady, burying his face in the crook of her neck, and breathed in deep. "You smell like pack."
"I am pack."
He ripped her shirt off in one swift tug and captured one of her breasts with his mouth. Suckling hard, he made Tilly's eyes flutter shut. With his hands back on her hips, he worked her body on top of his until a delicious heat bloomed between them.
His pace quickened.
Her heart raced.
"I need to feel more of you, Baz." Tilly yanked on his t-shirt and tried to rip it off. When she struggled, he tore the damned thing off and dropped the pieces to the floor. Her hands ran all over his skin, like she couldn’t get enough of his smooth chest or taut muscle.
“Tills,” he whispered as he flipped her onto her back.
“Deeper, Sebastian.”
He obeyed and Tilly held on for dear life. It was like he was trying to climb inside her. His moans turned to grunts and those turned to howls. He pulled out and stroked his cock hard and fast between her legs. “I can’t… I gotta fucking… mark you mine.” As Baz roared through his orgasm, his cum shot out and landed all over her chest and stomach.
Holy Hell, he was magnificent like this. Baz’s hair was a riot of dark waves, his abs flexed with every breath he took. Next, he slid down to lick her pussy with the eagerness of a starved man having his first taste of food. It felt so good, Tilly sank her hands into his hair to hold him steady.
He ripped his head out from between her thighs, “Don’t hold my head.”
She let go immediately. Why was it okay for him to do it to her and not the other way around? Fuck it, she didn’t care. Once he dipped not one, but two fingers into her core, Tilly didn’t care about anything other than coming. Had she any sense to her, she might have been annoyed that she could be so easily distracted, but she had no sense. Sebastian had fucked it all away.
When he slid two fingers into her pussy, another into her ass, and got back to flicking her clit with a devilish tongue, Tilly’s arms flailed around for something to hold onto. God what she wouldn’t give for Drake to be here right now. Of all the things to desire, that shouldn’t have been it, but logic was nowhere to be seen in this headspace. She wanted Drake here too.
Tilly tossed her hands over her head and grabbed the iron spokes of the headboard. They were cold and hard against her sweaty palms and she swore they bent under her fierce grip. Her mouth dropped open, her lungs filled with air, she squeezed her eyes shut and screamed.
When Baz finished lapping up every ounce of her pleasure, he yanked her by the hips and dragged her down to the foot of the bed.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he looked down and stroked himself again. “Spread your legs. Let me see your pussy.” His voice was sex and agony. “Fuck!” he lurched his hips forward and came all over her again. “Get the others,” he barked. “Fuck, get them! Now, Tilly!”
Something was wrong.
“Howl, goddamnit!” Baz grabbed her ankles and yanked her to the edge of the bed and forced her legs wide open and started stroking himself harder. “Fuck, Tilly! HOWL!”
Hard to Kill (Hell Hounds Harem Book 6) Page 11