When Lucifer let him go, Valor’s knees buckled and he caught himself before crumpling to the floor like a weak kitten. It took every ounce of energy he had left to stand ram-rod stiff as Lucifer slowly walked circles around him.
“You said Hounds,” the Devil frowned. “Did another Hound decide to join your pack recently?”
It was a valid question. Recently, Lucifer disbanded all the packs and gave them the choice to stay where they were or find a new pack to belong to. Valor exhaled a shaky breath before saying, “It was a slip of tongue, my Lord. I only have Bishop… and the twins. No other has joined my pack.”
“Slip,” Lucifer cocked his dark brow, “of tongue?”
Valor sighed. He was so fucking busted. “We’ve found someone who has seen the twins. She’s helping us. It was she who first had the book I wanted. The tome was stolen from her. I went to steal it back. The thief was dead, but she is still with me – unharmed and protected now.”
“And her safety is important to you?”
“She’s precious.”
The Devil laughed and it was cruel and ugly. Gods, what’s happened to him? Lucifer was never usually so cold. Valor couldn’t describe the vibes he was getting from Lucifer. The Devil’s aura wasn’t as unchanged as his demeanor, but something wasn’t right about him. Or maybe something wasn’t right about Valor. Maybe they were both in a bad way.
“I doona understand how I’ve unraveled so,” Valor admitted. “I’ve never faltered in such ways before. My pack is everything to me, Lucifer, and as I hunt the malanum and ask them questions, and I stare at the photos I have of Baz and D, and I look at how Bishop is slowly detaching and turning into a madman, I feel like I’m running in circles, chasing my tail. I’m howling for my pack in a dark so deep and soundless, I fear they will never hear it. I’m getting nowhere, and the worst part is,” he took a step forward and grabbed Lucifer’s arm, “I fear if I stop running, the floor will fall out from under me and my pack will never recover. The twins will not be found and all I have will be lost.” Again.
Lucifer’s jaw clenched. Sorrow filled his eyes. It made Valor feel understood and pathetic at the same time. He fucking hated it. Yet, he had no one else he could talk to. Yes, he could have gone to Kalen with his troubles, but he didn’t want to bother his life-long friend with such things. Kalen had been through something similar when Sara had disappeared. Valor didn’t want to dig up old memories – it solved nothing. Kalen was in a better place now and he deserved to stay there.
“How did they do it?” Val whispered. “How the Hell did Kalen’s pack survive five years without her?” Lucifer gave a half-chuckle and didn’t respond. Valor tried again, “Was their pack just as weak and unsteady and I never realized it?”
“At first, yes,” Lucifer said, “but they are a different pack of Hounds, Valor.”
“Meaning?”
“They were stronger because of their bond. You love your pack, but never really fully bonded with Sebastian, Drake, and Bishop. There were times when Kalen’s pack got bad enough they each came to me for help – much like you are right now – but it was different for them. None of you were made the same, you know. Each has their own hang-ups, their own weaknesses and strengths. None are better or worse than another. You just haven’t secured a true solidarity like Sara had with her Hounds long ago.”
Valor bit the inside of his cheek. He didn’t even know how to respond to that. It felt like bullshit to him. “I’ve given everything I have to my pack, sire. I love them. I would do anything for them. Have I not proven my devotion?”
Lucifer’s jaw clenched again. His expression remained stoic, “You have. But you are just one member of your pack. Leaders are only as strong as the ones who follow them.”
Valor growled, “Are ye saying my Hounds are weak?”
“Not at all. But they aren’t their strongest either.”
Val didn’t have time for one of Lucifer’s life lessons right now. He needed to get better and return home. “I need to be in the black fires,” Valor begged. “I have to be at my full strength for when we go after the twins.”
“You’re out of luck then.”
“What? Why?” Was the Devil going to deny him such a mercy? Was this his punishment for not reporting the book or the thief to Byrne?
“My power isn’t…” Lucifer stopped speaking and growled. Then he shook his head and continued, “I cannot spare what is left. It must be saved for another.”
Valor almost asked, but he knew exactly who Lucifer was saving it for. His Darling Sara. She was the first female Hound and was now with child. That child would most likely be a creature of epic worth. Precious. One of a kind. They would want to ensure the baby’s well-being at all costs and that would include the mother’s balance while pregnant.
God. Damnit!
Lucifer took his seat again and steepled his fingers, “I wish to know about this woman you’re protecting.”
“Her name is Matilda Jane.”
“And?”
“And she has seen the twins. I think one of them has astral projected.”
“To her?”
Valor nodded. “I canna begin to understand the reason, but I doona care right now. If they can astral project, then they’re still alive. We’re waiting for them to return to her.”
“Why her, I wonder?” Lucifer leaned back and rubbed his chin, pondering all the possibilities Valor already thought of.
“She’s cursed,” Valor finally said. “I’ve not said anything, but I wonder if that’s the reason.”
Lucifer knew what Valor was implying. “Cursed how?”
“She’s to die before her twenty-eighth birthday, like every other woman in her bloodline has.”
Lucifer whistled and stood again. “How old is she, Hound?” He was too caged and restless in Hell and the strain showed.
As the Devil paced, Valor tried to keep himself upright. “She has less than a year to live.”
“You’re hoping I can lift it.”
“Aye.” No sense in lying. It was another reason he’d come here tonight. To beg, plead and bargain if he had to. Tilly had been through too much and hadn’t lived nearly long enough. “She doesna deserves this, sire.”
“The cursed rarely do, unfortunately.” Lucifer scratched his arm, “There is no lifting a blood curse.”
Val sagged. “Are ye sure?”
“Positive. The strongest curses are the blood and soul varieties. They lift only when they’ve been fulfilled or the one who cursed them lifts it or dies.”
“I doubt she even kens who cursed her family.”
“Then,” Lucifer placed a hand on Val’s shoulder, “there’s no hope for her.”
“There must be something we can do.” Valor held back the urge to howl in anger and regret. He felt so bad for Tilly. “I beg of ye, sire. Please, if there is something ye can do to help me gain balance, then I’ll be more fit to care for her. To protect her.”
“And find the twins,” Lucifer added.
“Aye,” Val growled, half-insulted, “what the fuck do ye think I’ve done all this for? I’ve run myself fucking ragged looking for them. And now I’m close. So close. I need balance or I may fail them all.”
“How is it you were knocked off kilter so fast, Hound?”
Valor bit the inside of his cheek. Now he was going to get into more goddamn trouble. Fuck it, he thought. Go big or go home. At least the crime would be worth the punishment. “I gave Tilly some of my magic to save her. She was hit by a car and was suffering from both her injuries and spell residue.”
Lucifer’s eyes blazed with fury. “You pushed Hell’s magic… my power… into a goddamn human?”
“Aye,” Valor thrust his chin out defiantly. “She needed it, so I gave it to her.” No regrets there. Who knows what would have happened to Tilly had he not intervened.
The Devil roared, grabbed Valor by the throat, and smashed him against a wall. “You could have fucking killed her! How the hell she survived
is an honest to god miracle, Hound!”
“She’s…” okay, he couldn’t breathe with Lucifer’s hand on his throat squeezing like this, “she’s fevered. Her body temp matches mine. It’s the only part of me left in her.”
Lucifer’s eyes darkened. He released Valor and turned, giving the Hound his back. “Then you can blame yourself when she dies.”
Chapter 34
Tilly walked around the basement, going from room to room looking at everything and nothing. After the weird shit that happened between her and Valor in the shooting range, her head felt like it might explode from all her thoughts and mixed emotions.
Seeing a man look at you with such intensity is bound to fuck you up. The only other guy who ever looked at her like they could see way down deep into her cursed soul was Bishop. Good Lord, Tilly had hit the jackpot. She couldn’t help but think of how ironic this was – she’d found not just one guy, but two, that had potential for a serious romance story and she was practically tip-toeing around her grave.
She wasn’t going to live long enough to really enjoy them. Uhhh him. Shit, she couldn’t have both. Guys don’t go for that, right? Oh look at her, being all cocky and whatnot. As if she was going to have an opportunity to pick one for her personal boy toy. Tilly and her Hell Hound Harem.
Nope. She’d have to be Tilly, the Hell Hound Heartbreaker. Yeah, that was better. She’d rather break their hearts than the other way around anyway. It was better to leave than be left behind. And only one of them was going to make the great escape soon – her.
She couldn’t imagine selling her soul to the Devil for a chance to come back to life. There was nothing in this world worth doing that for. She couldn’t even say she’d do it for Vivian because unless Vivian was immortal too, what would be the point? She’d have to watch her sister die no matter what.
No thank you.
Tilly went back into the room with the pool table in it. This space felt strange to her. Probably because it belonged to a stranger, Baz. She picked up the eight ball and started pushing it across the green felt. It ricocheted off one side of the pool table, then the other, before returning to her hand. Bump, bump, thump. Bump, bump, thump.
She glanced at the pictures hanging on all four walls. Tilly had to admit, the twins were gorgeous. The one she saw – who she’d thought was a creeper following her – didn’t look nearly as clean shaven and healthy as these guys in the photos looked.
She hadn’t mentioned that to Valor or Bishop yet. The man she saw looked sickly and pale. His hair was a matted mess. His cheeks hollow, dark circles under his eyes. And he still looked handsome as Hell in some weird ass way. Bump, bump, thump. Bump, bump, thump.
Crash, bidda-bidda-bidda boom!
Tilly turned towards the sound of drums pounding in another room. Bishop, she thought. Tilly dropped the eight ball back where she found it and left to hunt down the Hound playing drums like a rockstar. His door was cracked open and he had head phones on. The lights were bright and the room was decorated in signed concert posters.
Bishop’s head bobbed and thrashed as he pounded on the drums. She stepped into the room and Bishop stopped playing and lifted his headphones off.
“Don’t stop,” Tilly begged, “I’m trying to figure out the song.”
“You won’t,” he growled, “because it’s not one. I just like to push my polyrhythms on the hat, and bass drum cross rhythms with triplets in different time signatures. It’s just noise really.”
“Noise,” she didn’t believe it for a second. His heavy breathing and fiery eyes said this wasn’t noise to him. It was freedom. She wanted him to keep looking like that – all wild and revved up. “Play something I might know.”
“I don’t know what you know.”
“Play anyway.” It took Tilly a moment to figure out the song, but when she did, her smile nearly split her face in two. “Master of Puppets is awesome. Keep going.”
Bishop didn’t listen. Instead, he dropped his drumsticks on the ground and, like a predator, he stalked around his set, approaching her with a swagger. He looked like sin and pain as he came closer. Caging her in with both his arms braced on the wall, Bishop glared at her.
Neither of them said a word. His eyes were dark, no life at all danced in them. He leaned in. His mouth was a hair’s breadth away from hers. A growl rose up from his throat and the vibration of it rippled down his body and straight into hers.
Dangerous, she thought. This man looked like he wanted nothing more than to tear the world apart, piece by piece, until it was as broken and splintered as he was. She knew the feeling. Been there a time or two herself.
Bishop’s gaze remained locked on hers. That look said too much when his tongue spoke too little. Something in Tilly moved and shifted. She wanted to fix him. Heal him. Make him better.
“Bishop,” she whispered. Her heart hammered in her chest as she ran her hand through his hair. His eyes softened a fraction. She wanted to kiss him. No, she wanted to crawl up his body, latch on and devour him.
Just as she was about to lean in for a kiss, the Hound pushed himself away from the wall, away from her, and left the room without saying a word.
Bishop didn’t know if he should laugh, cry, commit murder, or dig another grave for himself. He wanted to be happy. He wanted to weep for everything he’d lost. He wanted to annihilate every malanum in sight then dive down into Hell’s prisons and slay a bunch more. And he wanted to die. He deserved to die. He wasn’t a good Hound – not the Hound he always prided himself in being. He’d turned into a weak pup.
Tilly deserved a beast. Nothing less.
That didn’t stop him from wanting her though. And how fucking shitty was that? He had the case of the fuck me pleases when the twins were still out there, in need of help.
Bishop leaned against the wall in the theatre room and tried to calm the fuck down. God, he felt raw. And the way Tilly stared at him just now was the last thing he wanted to suffer. It was like she could look right down into his damned soul and see the pathetic man whimpering inside. He didn’t want her to see that piece of him. The man who was betrayed by his wife… the father who lost his child… the man in the box who could not claw his way out of the darkness and died suffocating and alone in a coffin when no one would come to help.
Bishop stared down at his hands. These hands wielded many a weapon, fought countless malanum to keep the world a safer place. They were strong, calloused, big.
Yet these hands couldn’t save his ass in that coffin. He’d scratched and clawed at the wooden lid until his fingernails split and fingers bled. Even now, somedays when he was too stuck in his memories, Bishop could look down at his hands and see the blood run and splinters poking out of his fingertips.
The dead never truly let go of their first life.
That was a lesson the Devil gave him when he first became a Hell Hound. Made sense, really. Especially for those who were given a second chance. He’d yet to meet a Hound that didn’t die in a terrible way. In this, they were equals. They were each granted a second life and were remade in the Devil’s image to be protectors of the innocents. The guardians of the living and hunters of the evil malanum that slithered across the lands infecting wayward spirits and making a fucking mess of things.
It was the best job in the world – being a Hell Hound.
Bishop never regretted his decision to become one until recently. The guilt of what he may or may not have done to the twins was eating him alive. Add to that the fact that Tilly was a temporary gift in his life and he wanted to scream. Turn time back. Stay dead and buried and be a wayward soul who refused to go where he belonged. Fuck, he felt so damn lost.
“Bishop?” Tilly’s voice rose from his music room. “Bish— mmmm!”
At the sound of Tilly’s words being cut off, panic slapped Bishop’s ass and he peered down the hall, worried something had happened. What he saw made his blood run cold and boil at the same motherfucking time.
Valor was kissing her.
<
br /> Oh hell no. That woman was fucking his. His!
Valor pressed Tilly against the wall with her arms up over her head, pinning her in place. If his alpha was half as unbalanced as Bishop was, then Valor might not even realize he was being so aggressive. The door to Hell was left wide open, too. Valor was never so careless.
Fury propelled Bishop forward. Jealousy had him ripping his alpha off of Tilly. He grabbed Valor by the shoulders and yanked him away. The two Hell Hounds began circling each other, growls of warning and snarly threats ripping out of both their throats.
“Stay the fuck away from her.”
“Ye doona order me, Hound. I’m your alpha.”
“I don’t give a fuck.” Bishop’s head dipped, his gaze locked on Valor’s. “She’s not yours to touch.”
“Guys.”
They ignored Tilly. Honestly, they were so far gone into Hell Hound mode, they hadn’t even heard her when she tried to call out their names.
“I saw her first,” Bishop snarled.
“I doona care.” Valor continued to circle around. They were half-in the hallway and half-in the theatre room. “I must do this.”
Bishop growled louder. Jealousy had him seeing red. He didn’t want one more thing taken away from him. Tilly was his, goddamnit. “The Hell you do, alpha. She’s mine. All fucking mine.”
“And she can still be yours.”
Bishop stopped short. What the fuck was Valor trying to pull here? He wasn’t a sharer. Never was, never would be. What did he want to do, have her first because he was alpha, before giving her away to a lesser man?
The thought had Bishop seething. He plowed into Valor and slammed his alpha against the wall. In return, Valor pushed back and they toppled over a reclining couch. Rolling around on the ground, taking turns punching and strangling each other, they were two animals fighting for one female and it wasn’t pretty.
“Stop it!” Tilly screamed.
They ignored her.
Hard to Find (Hell Hounds Harem Book 4) Page 25