A blood fae, a wraith, a shifter, and an elf.
It sounds like the start of a bad joke.
The fae begins to stab the hellhound repeatedly with his dagger. Only when the creature falls still does he jump to his feet and move to the next victim. God, even the way he walks is terrifying. He moves like a predator that suggests he’s not trapped with the hellhounds—they’re trapped with him.
It’s kind of hot, if I’m being honest.
Warmth radiates through me as I watch the four men fight. They’re strong. Powerful. Lethal.
And one—or all of them—is going to die.
The reminder cools my raging libido like a bucket of ice water. A tremor works its way through me, and panic claws at my gut.
Which one will it be?
As I watch, the shifter gets slightly too close to a hellhound’s paw and risks losing his head.
I yelp and call out, “Be careful, okay? Don’t stand too close to their damn paws. It’s common sense to not put your head in the path of a deadly object, yeah?”
The shifter ducks at just the right moment, then he slams his sword up, spearing the creature’s chest. The hellhound’s molten eyes widen then glaze over. Its body goes still.
“Woo!” I cheer, pumping my fist. “Three down. One to go.”
I turn my attention towards the final creature, still engaged in a battle with the elf. The creature’s skin is sizzling anddeteriorating before my very eyes, yet it doesn’t stop its relentless advance.
“Come on. You got this, elf boy. You can do this,” I encourage from the sidelines, praying the fire in my chest cremates the lump in my throat.
It’s hard to breathe.
The elf fires off one more arrow, then he dives out of the way of the hellhound’s attack.
But the monster doesn’t slow down as it continues to race forward, its head lowered and nostrils flared.
Is it coming for…me?
No, not me.
The wraith beside me.
A scream catches in my throat just as the hellhound tackles the wraith to the ground, its talons digging into his skin.
“No!” I scream, desperate to do something, anything.
Without thinking, I slam my dagger into the hellhound’s flank, and the great beast goes still. A tiny whimper escapes it just before it falls on its side, dead.
Oh…fuck.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Did I do that?
I stare at my dagger in disbelief.
How is that possible? My dagger can’t pierce the flesh of living creatures. Is it because the hellhound isn’t actually living? Is it because it’s a part of hell? Is it?—
A voice reaches me then, his gravel tone scraping across my skin. “Who the fuck are you?”
I whirl, only to immediately pause when I see a sword aimed at my head.
