by Chant, Zoe
She didn’t want anything to wake her up from that. And for all she knew, Russ’s explanation could have something to do with... the pH balance of his skin or something equally unromantic and unsexy.
But he was clearly steeling himself to tell her, so she owed it to him to listen. She just had to box up her feelings and concentrate.
“Shifters have mates,” Russ said. “True mates, who are like—the love of your life. The person who makes everything better, more vivid, more beautiful. We recognize them the first time our eyes meet.”
We. For some reason, she hadn’t realized that he was a shifter, too. She’d just thought he lived near a bunch of them.
She wondered what kind of animal he could turn into. Something strong and capable, something helpful and loyal, something lovable and wild at the same time. A wolf, maybe?
Even though she’d vowed to concentrate on what he was saying—even if it shattered her hopes—the wolf idea had distracted her enough that only his next words could have snapped her out of it.
Russ said, “I recognized it when we met.”
It was like the world stopped spinning. Everything around her froze.
True mates. The love of your life.
Better, more vivid, more beautiful.
The kind of person who, say, could make you feel like you were home as soon as you met him. Who could make you feel safe but, even more importantly, make you feel free.
“I’m your mate?”
He nodded, and—God, he looked the weirdest combination of overjoyed and miserable. “I’m sorry.”
Anita couldn’t help it: she burst out laughing. Some tension that had been with her for her whole life had suddenly snapped, and she felt as light as air. “You’re sorry? This is the best thing I could ever have imagined. Russ, you’re a terrific guy, and I can touch you. The sheer rightness of you is enough to overcome a literal curse. Why would you possibly be s—”
She stopped. Horror hit her, making her stomach cramp up.
Her voice trembled a little as she said, “Do you... do you not like me?”
“God, Anita, I love you.”
She couldn’t stand waiting for the rest of his explanation, not when she felt like she had all the answer she needed right there. She surged towards him again, locking her body against his.
The feel of him was overwhelming. It was like she’d been starving for years, and someone had finally let her sit down in front of some delicious banquet of all her favorite foods, a feast tailor-made for her alone. His hands roved over her, brushing her shirt up until his thumbs stroked over her bare hips, right along the edge of her jeans. It was like a line of fireworks going off across her skin.
He tasted like cinnamon and sugar—sweet, spicy, and decadent. And he kissed like he was just as starved for her as she was for him.
Which made it even stranger when he pulled away from her, even stepping back to put some distance between them.
“This might be a bad idea,” he said.
Anita’s lips felt sensitized now, like even the air passing over them was pleasurable.
“I really, really disagree,” she said.
“I’m bad luck.”
He sounded desperate enough that she had to believe him. At least, she had to believe that he believed it.
But...
“You’ve been nothing but good luck for me so far,” she said honestly.
“We haven’t known each other that long. And if we do, if we get close to each other, I’m just worried that it will mess things up for you, like it messed up my old life.”
“It?”
Russ pressed his lips together so hard that they became a thin white line, and then he said, “My shifter animal. I’m a hellhound.”
Her first thought was, Oh, I was close.
“What’s a hellhound? Can I see it?”
He shook his head so fast that it had to have made him dizzy. “It’s a monster. I’m a monster.”
“No, you’re not.” She wouldn’t argue with him about what a hellhound was, she supposed, since she had no clue, but she knew what he was, and he was as far from a monster as anyone could get. “You’re great. Look at what you’re doing right now if you want proof. You look like it’s killing you to tell me all this, and you’re still doing it, just because you think it’s the right thing to do.”
“I’m not a monster because of what I do. I’m a monster because it’s what I am.”
“I don’t believe that. And my family has experience with monstrous stuff, remember? I know monstrous, and you’re not it. I don’t think you’d put up with someone else telling you they were a monster because they could turn into something weird.”
He sighed. “That’s true with most people, but it’s not with me. You haven’t seen it.”
She folded her arms. “So show me.”
He actually blanched. “I can’t do that. I’ve never done it on purpose. It just happens. That’s why I had to move here, where people would know what to do if it happened in front of them.”
Anita levered herself back up on the bar, hopping up and sitting there so they could be eye-to-eye again. For right now, she could compartmentalize the wild, almost unbearably good truth about the two of them being soulmates. She wasn’t worried about that—she didn’t think she’d ever been less worried about anything. It was the state of Russ’s soul that she was worried about. It sounded like he was tearing it to pieces, and she didn’t think he had any reason to.
Nothing that was a part of him could be this bad.
“Hit me with your best shot,” she said.
“Anita, I can’t. I can’t risk hurting you.”
Well, she couldn’t say she didn’t appreciate that. She frowned, thinking. “You said you haven’t shifted on purpose. That means you have shifted, though, right? Just on accident?”
He nodded with visible reluctance.
“Did you hurt anybody then?”
“No, but...” He trailed off. “No.” He said it more firmly then. “It doesn’t hurt anyone. It got me fired because I kept shifting overnight and getting stuck in hellhound-mode all day instead of going to work, but it didn’t hurt anyone. It just sort of makes a mess.”
Anita said gently, “Then why do you feel like it’s a monster?”
She had to admit that it probably didn’t help that it was called a hellhound, but the poor thing couldn’t help that. There weren’t really bad dogs, just bad owners, and Russ was neither one. She was sure of it.
“It wrecked my life,” Russ said again.
She didn’t think his life looked so bad—but she had to admit that she didn’t know what he had gone through to get it back to normal. She had rebuilt her life a little and hoped to rebuild it even more, but it would be fair to say that the curse had wrecked it, at least for a little while.
Russ was lost in thought now, talking more to himself than to her. “I had a completely different life before I moved here. I was...”
He was silent for so long that Anita felt like she had to prompt him. “You were what?”
“Unhappy.”
The word was stark, and he seemed amazed to be saying it.
Anita couldn’t just sit there and listen to him like this. He looked like his whole world had been rocked back, and she couldn’t stand to look at him all pale and shocked. She hopped off the bar and wrapped her arms around him, feeling him bend against her, pressing his cheek against her hair. He held onto her so tightly that it made her feel breathless.
No, she thought. No, that’s just him.
And she loved him. It didn’t feel like she was realizing it, just like she was finally, truly understanding it, right now as she could feel his heartbeat against her body. Like him, she was finally understanding just how happy she really was.
RUSS HAD NEVER, EVER thought about his old life in that light.
Why would he have been unhappy, after all? He’d had everything, hadn’t he?
He’d been making great money. His job had be
en challenging and intellectually satisfying, and he’d worked for people who had genuinely appreciated his skills. He’d had a girlfriend—
And that, more than anything else, was what helped him realize exactly how much his hellhound hadn’t ruined his life.
Because his girlfriend back then hadn’t been Anita. They’d been a good match on paper, but there had never been any real spark between them. They’d barely even spent any time together. And while he was sure that plenty of people found their happiness with people who weren’t technically their mates... now that he had met Anita, he couldn’t imagine wanting to live without her. What if he’d never gone to Heaven’s Limits, and he had just missed her? Without ever even knowing it?
I’m just you, his hellhound said quietly. I didn’t mean to hurt us. I just wanted us to be happy.
Everyone in Heaven’s Limits had always told him that your shifter animal was just an expression of your subconscious, a manifestation of your inner personality—plus some fur and one or two weird instincts.
And when it had come to everyone else, he’d bought that explanation wholeheartedly. He didn’t think that Stevie Clausen was secretly a low-down rattler at heart; the whole idea sounded ridiculous. Stevie was just an ordinary kid whose ability to turn into a snake meant he could do what kids had always done: try to snag booze out from under adults’ noses.
And what if he was just... him? What if his hellhound was just him too?
His hellhound added, And I bit the car’s paws so we could be sure to meet our mate. It sounded proud of itself and, he thought dizzily, rightfully so.
You knew she was coming here?
Instincts. Its eyes looked different to him now, like warm hearth-fires instead of hellish infernos. Our instincts are worth trusting.
Yeah. He was starting to think they were. Maybe his bad luck hadn’t been bad luck at all—it had just been his hellhound doing its best to steer him towards the kind of life he’d secretly always wanted.
Towards Anita.
He’d always thought the fire in its eyes meant destruction, even ruin.
But fire could also cleanse. It could clear out space for new things to grow.
Good boy, Russ thought fervently, imagining digging in his fingers behind the hound’s enormous ears. You’re a good, good boy, and I’m sorry I was so wrong about you. Just—stop taking over, all right? I know I made it hard for you to come out any other way, but from here on out, we work together, okay? Let me know what you need—what you think we need—and we’ll figure it out.
It considered this offer and then got up on its hind legs and licked his face.
His imaginary face, but still.
Russ had to hold back his laugh. He felt almost giddy.
“Russ?”
“I was unhappy,” he said. “Now I’m not anymore. And now I’ve met you, and it’s hard to imagine that I’ll ever be unhappy again.” He swung her into a little two-step.
He didn’t know what country song they were supposed to be now. The best one, he guessed, whatever that might be. Or one they would make up as they went along.
He told her everything—the job, the girlfriend, the soulless high-rise apartment, the bitten tires, all of it—and he saw that she knew exactly what he meant.
“It’s the same with me,” Anita said. “At least a little. I know some people think I had a pretty good life that I threw away to drive off with no money and barely any idea of what I was doing, but I’m so much happier since I left home.” She pressed one hand against his chest, slipping her thumb in between two buttons. “Since I met you.”
She raised herself up on her toes but then stopped.
“Wait. If I kiss you again right now, I’m not going to be able to stop.”
“Trust me, I don’t object.”
“I hope not. I have a lot of plans for you, Russ Wynn, my—what was it? One true mate.” She couldn’t seem to say the words without smiling, which made him feel so incredibly lucky. Never mind Suzy Lynn’s lottery win, they were the best bit of good luck that had ever hit this bar.
“So...” he prompted.
“So, I don’t want to stop either. But I do want to see your hellhound. I’m curious.”
RUSS TENSED UP.
Anita had time to think about how she loved every part of him, from the tanned stretch of his throat to each little fleck and shadow of stubble on his cheeks. She loved him from the brim of his cowboy hat all the way down to the soles of his boots. She didn’t know how to explain how much better he made her life just by virtue of being in it.
But she knew one way to try, at least.
She said, “You don’t have to change. I want you to know that there’s no part of you that you have to hide from me, that there’s nothing about you that’s monstrous, but... I can’t make you believe that. And I don’t want to rush you and make everything happen on my time-table. We’re having a pretty good, pretty miraculous day. The last thing I want is for that to be ruined for you.”
Something lit up Russ’s eyes, and he ran his thumb along her chin, framing her face with his fingers along her jawline. “You could never ruin anything for me. And besides, you’re right. I’ve let the wrong ideas about my life guide me for way too long. My hellhound’s not a monster, and it’s not bad luck. It’s me.”
He said it like he finally understood, at least a little, that he was everything she could possibly want.
“I think it’s time for you to see the beast within,” Russ said.
“God, right now part of me really wishes that was a euphemism.”
Russ laughed, his exhalation enticing against her lips. “I’m not really that beastly, sorry. I can give it a try.”
She would let him do that, definitely, but... not beastly certainly had its advantages. She could imagine what it was like to spend a sweet, leisurely afternoon in bed with him, with sun pouring in through the curtains. They would take their time. They would go slow.
And every now and then, for added spice: a little speed, a little beastliness.
But for right now, no matter what she said, there was really only one beast she was interested in.
“I like princes as well as beasts,” she said. “Don’t worry.” She hopped back up on the bar. “Show me the beast within.”
His face tensed up again, but as she watched him, he got the old trepidation under control. He really did believe her, and he’d really started to believe in himself. She felt a fierce stab of pride at that.
Then wonder overtook pride and everything else. She just watched, and the rest of the world fell away.
Russ was changing right in front of her. It was like he was melting into night, turning into something made entirely out of smoke and inky black shadows that bristled out like quills. But he soon filled in the darkness that surrounded him, and an actual shape started forming.
And despite all the shadows and despite the glowing, ember-orange eyes, it wasn’t a demon. It was a dog. It was Russ.
It was enormous, round-shouldered and broad-chested, with heavy paws that looked bigger than Anita’s hands. It was powerfully muscled, its fur rippling over its huge frame. She’d seen its teeth form before its lips had closed over them, and they’d looked as sharp as daggers and as hard as diamonds.
She could understand how someone could see it and feel frozen with terror. There was no doubt in her mind that if the hellhound in front of her wanted to, it could take someone down with a single bite.
But even knowing all that, she didn’t feel the slightest quaver of fear.
She couldn’t. She knew it was Russ, and there was nothing in Russ that she needed to be afraid of.
She crouched down in front of him and tentatively reached out to stroke his velvety ears. “You’re so soft,” she said, stunned. “You’re incredible.”
He pressed his head against her shoulder and nuzzled her, making her heart melt even as he almost knocked her over.
“How could I ever be afraid of you?” She stroked his sides. �
�You’ve got goodness radiating out of you.”
He looked at her pointedly, and she saw what she suspected he meant for her to see: the tiny dancing orange flames of his irises, hard at work putting the hell in hellhound.
“I don’t care,” she said stubbornly. “Hellhound, schmellhound.” That wasn’t really an argument. “Look, unless you can point to an actual authorized history of hellhounds that says you guys climbed out of the depths of some terrifying inferno, I’m not going to believe that you’re anything uniquely terrible. You’re magical dogs with awesome glowy eyes. That’s not evil, that’s cool. No one gets who to decide who you are but you, Russ.”
She wrapped her arms around him and rested her cheek against his soft fur. Then it melted away, and Russ himself was there, holding her back. He laughed a breathless-sounding laugh against her cheek.
“How did that feel?” she said, now running her fingers through the short-cropped hair at the back of his neck.
“Scary. Amazing.” He pressed his forehead to hers. “Better because you were there. Do you really believe what you were saying?”
“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t. Not to you.”
She was sure the position they were in now would have looked ridiculous to anyone else. Two people kneeling on the floor of a cowboy bar, rocking each other back and forth a little, touching each other like they needed physical contact to stay alive, all while they had a very serious conversation about existential questions of identity. But what the hell. No one was here, and she wasn’t going to break away from him a second before she had to.
And he clearly felt the same. If anything, he pressed her closer, making something inside her melt deliciously.
When they finally broke apart, he caressed her face, smoothing some of the little strands of hair away from her cheeks.
“You’re incredible,” he said. “You’ve got goodness radiating out of you.” He looked at her for a long moment, but his gaze had gone distant: as Anita watched, a little awed, she could see flickers of fiery orange race across his brown eyes. He was communing somehow with the hellhound part of himself, she realized. He’d accepted it now, and it had only made him more beautiful. When he came all the way back to her, he said, “I want to try something, if that’s okay. I have an idea, and my hellhound thinks it might work.”