by Chant, Zoe
“An idea for what?”
He hesitated, but he wasn’t like her family. He wasn’t going to protect her from the truth, from the world: those were all things they could face together.
“I want to try to get rid of your curse,” Russ said. “I don’t know if I can do it, but I want to try.”
11
When Russ had shifted, he’d been surprised—after all his resistance and all his blocking out—how natural it felt to let his body flow from one form to another. The second surprise was how much he was still himself, even on four legs. Before, the hellhound had always had to wrestle him back in order to exist at all, just like he’d tried to keep it safely asleep in the back of his mind. He hadn’t even realized this kind of dual-vision, dual-thinking was possible.
For the first time since he’d been bitten, he was aware of what it was like to be a hellhound. To look at the world with those smoldering-ember eyes.
And, of course, Anita was what he was really interested in looking at.
She was gorgeous, even in the barely tinted black-and-white of his hellhound’s vision. And the feeling of sheer rightness seemed to sing out whenever she touched him.
But when he had looked at her, he had seen something that didn’t belong. It was almost completely overwhelmed by all the Anita of her, by her tough, funny kindness, but it was still there, skittering around the edges of her like some kind of constantly moving shadow. When she had stroked his ears, the shadows had all fled down her arm to her hand—and then bolted back up again the moment they reached her fingertips, like they’d been burned.
What am I looking at? Russ had asked his hellhound.
It had let out a low internal growl, looking at the shadows, but it didn’t seem completely sure. It wasn’t like he had let it have any real experience, after all.
I just know I don’t like them, the hellhound had said. They don’t belong with our mate.
He agreed completely. And now, he thought he knew what the shadows had been.
Anita’s curse.
They seethed around her like smoke, doing their best to poison her life with loneliness, and whenever she seemed like she might touch someone, they all rallied together to hurt her. To make her feel, as she’d said, like a million hot blades were cutting through her.
But contact with him—with his hellhound—had driven them away, almost like they were scared.
Fire was cleansing.
Fire could light up the darkness and burn away the shadows.
Russ told her all this, adding again, “I have no idea whether or not it’ll work. I don’t have a road map for any of this. But if you think it’s worth trying...”
“God, yes,” Anita said immediately. “Either it’ll work or it won’t, but you wouldn’t hurt me. Neither would your hellhound. There’s no harm in trying.”
She was actually shaking a little, no matter how crisp and sure she sounded, and he wrapped his arms around her.
“I’m not afraid of you,” she said against his chest. “It’s just... the thought of having all this over, after so long...”
“If it doesn’t work—”
She shook her head. “If it doesn’t work, I’ll still have you.” Her voice was firm, even though he could feel that her face had gotten wet. “And you’re enough. Having the curse lifted would be one of the best things that ever happened to me, but it still wouldn’t take the number one slot away from you.”
He kissed the top of her head. The strength of her love and trust flooded through him, leaving him in awe of her and only more determined to give her all the best things in the world. He wanted her to be able to move through the bar without even a trace of fear, not having to worry about getting a jolt of searing pain if someone bumped into her. He wanted her to be able to hug her family and friends. He wanted to chase all the shadows out of her life for good.
Fuck the family curse. He was a hellhound. He had fire and justice on his side, and he was going to protect his mate, dammit.
“Are you ready?”
Anita settled back, resting on her heels. She wiped her eyes, and she put on an adorable, unbelievably brave kind of game face, like she was steeling herself for battle.
No wonder. He just had to try to drive away some shadows. If it didn’t work, she would have crushing disappointment to deal with. She was trying to keep all her hopes at bay.
She was the most courageous person he’d ever known.
“Ready,” she said. “And whatever happens, it’s okay. I promise.”
Disappointing our mate is never “okay,” his hellhound said.
I agree. But we have to try. Are you ready?
It bared its teeth in silent affirmation: its game face was on, too.
Russ let himself change.
This time, he didn’t dwell on how the transformation felt: his eye was entirely on the prize. As soon as all four paws hit the ground, he lifted his head to look at Anita.
Anita and her shadows. The shadows that should never have belonged to her but had latched onto her like malevolent parasites, sucking so much joy out of her life. But she’d been too strong for them. She’d fought her way to happiness despite her curse.
Maybe she had even demoralized them, if such monstrous, wriggling little things ever felt disappointment. He was going to make sure they could feel fear, though.
We can make them run, his hellhound whispered. I can feel it.
I can too, Russ said. Speculation had become ironclad certainty. This was what hellhounds did; this was what they were for. They went head-to-head with evil and burned it away.
These shadows wouldn’t touch Anita anymore. They wouldn’t hurt her anymore.
He growled at them, his hackles raising and his fur bristling. He could feel something unearthly rising out of him, a kind of ethereal flame that didn’t burn him and wouldn’t burn Anita. No, this fire had a more specific purpose in mind. It built up around his head and his shoulders, like he was gathering it out of the air. He could feel it the same way he had felt his hellhound: this was something savage, but not something evil. It was a part of him.
And it wanted what he wanted.
He unleashed it and let it surge forward.
The fire wrapped around Anita, enveloping her in pure golden light. It looked completely natural there, like she should always have been wreathed in this glow like some kind of avenging angel.
He could feel it reaching out beyond her, even, stretching to the rest of her family, whom he’d never even met. The flames were stretching along her whole bloodline.
But at the heart of it was Anita, beautiful and glowing.
And then, with no warning, the fire winked out.
The shadows were gone.
EVEN BEFORE RUSS CHANGED back, Anita knew that something had happened.
It was like she had spent the last twenty-odd years with a weight strapped to her, and now Russ had burned through the rope and sent it falling to the ground. She felt as light as air. She was going to float up to the roadhouse ceiling.
She could barely catch her breath. “Did it work?”
Russ’s head dipped forward just a little, but then he stopped it. “I think so. It felt like it did—like it maybe even burned it out of your whole family. But you’ll have to tell me.”
Anita spun around in a circle, looking around the abandoned roadhouse like someone besides the two of them would suddenly pop up for a little experimental handshake. Nothing. Nobody.
Russ realized it in the same instant she did. He whipped his cell out of his pocket. “I’ll call Emily.”
Emily the literal night owl, right. Anita paced around the room, half-listening to Russ’s conversation—
“No, we don’t need a ride anywhere, but I’ll pay you anyway. It’s... hellhound-related, sort of.”
—but mostly just listening to her own wild heartbeat.
Never even mind her—she had someone she could touch anyway. But Aunt Angela, her mom’s older sister... she was the sweetest lady
in the world, and if what Russ had done had cured her too, it would be the best news imaginable. Aunt Angela deserved at least the same kind of happiness Anita had been having. She could finally tell her widowed neighbor how she felt about him... she and Anita could finally hug...
Russ hung up and wrapped his arms around her, holding her close.
“She’s not far away,” he murmured against her head. “She’ll be here in just a minute.”
She couldn’t seem to make her voice work to thank him, so she just hugged him even tighter.
She stood by what she’d said earlier. As long as she had Russ, everything else was just a bonus. Whatever happened, she already had an incredible life here in Heaven’s Limits, and it already felt like her life. Being here, with him, was like finally waking up from some long, groggy sleep. Everything felt miraculous. If she didn’t get this one last miracle, she could absolutely live with it.
The door creaked as Emily came in.
“Hey, guys.” Emily sounded understandably confused. “So... what do you need, if it’s not a ride? And, Russ, does she—know?”
“She knows,” Russ said. He gave Anita one final squeeze before they stepped apart. “She’s my mate.”
She loved how she could hear the pride and wonder in his voice.
“Oh, dude!” Emily said, clapping her hands. “That’s so awesome! Hey, congratulations!”
She bounded forward like she had springs on the balls of her feet—and flung her arms around Anita’s shoulders.
“I knew you were great. No wonder you and Russ belong together.”
Anita could feel Emily’s cheek against hers. Bare skin on bare skin.
There was nothing there but smoothness and warmth. No pain at all. Just an enthusiastic new friend celebrating with her.
Anita let out what sounded like an actual whoop of victory, and she hugged Emily so hard she lifted the pixie-sized woman up off her feet.
“It worked?” Russ said.
“It worked!” She let go of Emily and just about jumped into his arms, pressing her mouth to his.
It was incredible to have the rest of the world now too, but no other touch would ever thrill her like his. And while they needed to calm down and explain things to poor confused Emily, and while she needed to call Aunt Angela and give her the good news, right now she just wanted to savor this moment with him. She wanted every kiss with him to last forever, just because it was theirs.
Epilogue
Six Months Later
Anita kept looking at the bouquet by her plate. She couldn’t stop grinning ear-to-ear. Neither could Russ.
“I’m glad you caught it,” he said.
“Caught it? I fought for it. I had to do a WNBA-worthy jump to snag this bad boy. One is enough, though—when we go to Aunt Angela’s wedding, I’ll let someone else have the good luck.” She leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder. “Lu looked gorgeous.”
“She did,” Russ agreed.
Lu had declared that white was boring, so she’d worn a daring crimson gown that—according to Anita, anyway, and Russ was willing to take her word for it—perfectly accentuated the flickers of cat-shifter gold in her eyes. George had been completely prepared to go to his own wedding in a sky blue tux and cummerbund that looked like something from a ‘70s prom. Thankfully, Russ had figured one of his duties as best man was to stop that from happening, so he’d gotten George down the aisle in something closer to Lu’s high standards.
It had been a beautiful wedding—one that had him eagerly anticipating their own, which was just on the horizon. Anita’s car would finally be repaired two days before the ceremony, and Russ had already gotten George to promise to decorate it in best JUST MARRIED style, complete with tin cans that would no longer be enough to pull the bumper off. He couldn’t wait.
“Lu looked great. But,” he said, skimming his hand over the soft, brown curve of Anita’s bare shoulder, “the dress I’m most interested in is yours.”
She laughed the husky, carefree laugh that seemed to make him love her even more every time he heard it. “You’re not interested in the dress. You’re interested in what’s underneath the dress.”
To be fair, the dress was gorgeous. Lu had let the bridesmaids pick their own dresses, and Anita’s had been made by her talented and now curse-free and happily engaged Aunt Angela, who was a genius with a needle.
But Anita was right. He was mostly interested in what was underneath. What he really loved about the rosy pink of her satin bridesmaid dress was the way it reminded him of how her skin flushed when she was turned on.
“I’m more interested in what’s underneath the dress,” he said diplomatically.
“Well, that’s how I like it.” She ate the strawberry out of her champagne glass, smiling as the fizzy sweetness. “The happy couple are off to the Caribbean, so most of the party’s over. Want to go home?”
He took another long, lingering look at her dress. “I do. And I regret promising everyone I’d open the bar up tonight, because I really just want to take you upstairs.”
Her smile turned sparkling. “And I want to take you upstairs, so consider it a date as soon as the doors close behind the last customer.”
“Deal.” They both lived in the converted hayloft apartment above the bar now, so it was gloriously easy to just slip upstairs at the end of a shift and be right at home... and, on plenty of nights, right in bed.
They made their way to the exit, his hand at the small of her back. Even now, he wasn’t tired of watching Anita fearlessly weave her way through crowds, sometimes brushing her hand over a friend’s or even exchanging a cheek-kiss or two. He loved seeing her so free.
As they stepped outside, the breeze stirred her hair. She looked at him and smiled.
At the same time, they both said, “Maybe we could open the bar a little late...”
“Everyone can live with a little bit of a wait,” Russ said.
“Who’s to say how long it takes us to change out of these clothes?” Anita added. “Bridesmaid dresses are tricky.”
He took her hand. “Very tricky,” he agreed. “And I can’t wait until I have to spend even more time trying to get you out of a wedding dress.”
“We might miss the honeymoon because we spend so much time ‘changing clothes.’”
Russ laughed and drew her into a long, lingering kiss. They swayed a little there in the parking lot, just for a moment, dancing to their own song that no one else could hear.
A note from Zoe Chant
Thank you for buying my book! I hope you enjoyed it. If you’d like to be emailed when I release my next book, please click here to be added to my mailing list. You can also visit my webpage, or follow me on Facebook or Twitter. You are also invited to join my VIP Readers Group on Facebook!
Please consider reviewing Hard Luck Hellhound, even if you only write a line or two. I appreciate all reviews, whether positive or negative.
The cover of Hard Luck Hellhound was designed by Belle Arden.
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