His Foxy Devil Page 3

  “When his wound is healed. You’ll know when.” Nazaryth looked around, grabbed a towel from the dresser, and wiped his hands. “Do you know which hellhound bit him?”

  “Mitch said the guy’s name was Demonian,” Moose said. “Kinda hot dude that I had to set on fire after Mitch killed him.”

  Pat’s eyes rounded. Set on fire? What kind of crazy shit was that?

  Nazaryth’s jaw clenched. “Was he the only one?”

  Moose shook his head. “He escaped from Hell with Syphon.”

  The guy cursed. “What made you go after him?”

  “A contract from the Ultionem,” Darren said.

  “Those fools,” Nazaryth snapped. “They shouldn’t have handed that contract to you. Demonian and Syphon were among the first hellhounds created. They are far too dangerous for mere shifters to take down.”

  “Hey, we killed Demonian,” Moose argued. “That was pretty easy if you ask me.”

  Nazaryth narrowed his eyes as he turned toward Moose. The death look in his eyes made Pat take a step back. The guy was crazy scary.

  “Fire won’t kill Demonian. He’s not a typical hellhound. Severing his head and removing his heart won’t do the trick either, unless you keep the head separated from the body, but that still won’t kill him.”

  “Then what will?” Darren asked.

  Nazaryth stared down at Mitch. “I’ll have to get something more potent for his wound. No one told me he had been bitten by a tenebris creaturae.”

  “A what?” Moose furrowed his brows

  “Dark creation,” Nazaryth answered. “It refers to firstborn hellhounds.”

  Pat felt the blood drain from his face. “What does that mean for Mitch’s odds of surviving this?”

  “Not good,” Nazaryth said. “I’ll go make the salve. You guys keep an eye on him. I’ll send some of my men to guard you. Since you ‘killed’ Demonian, he’ll want revenge. And even though you might not have seen him, Syphon was close by, which means he’ll be coming after you guys, too.” Nazaryth’s gaze landed on Pat. “They’re mates, which means they won’t stop until all of you are dead, but not before they’ve tortured each of you.”

  Pat had never heard of a hellhound having a mate. That was news to him, and terrifying news at that. He swallowed roughly as he looked down at Mitch, wondering whether, even if his mate survived the bite, any of them survived firstborn hellhounds coming after them.

  * * * *

  Mitch felt as though he was floating back to consciousness. It wasn’t so much waking up than breaking the surface of dark water. Aside from the fact that his left arm felt like it was anchored down, his body felt buoyant, weightless.

  “I think he’s waking up.”

  Mitch opened his eyes but couldn’t quite focus just yet. All he saw were shadowy, moving figures. Mitch pressed his fingers into his eyes, hissing as pain shot down his arm. Had he been shot? Was that what was wrong with him?

  “Hey, sunshine.”

  Lowering his arm, Mitch blinked a few times. “Have I died and gone to heaven?”

  Pat blushed as he shook his head. “Thankfully you’re not dead.”

  “I’m still looking at an angel.” Mitch grinned despite the pain he was in. Sure, the line was a bit cheesy, but Pat was sexy as hell, and Mitch couldn’t believe how lucky he had gotten.

  “He’s fine,” Darren said from somewhere on Mitch’s right. “Bastard just wakes up and he’s trying to get laid.”

  “How’s your arm?” Pat’s gaze lowered as worry lines creased his brows.

  “What happened?” Mitch tried to sit up and winced, falling back to the bed. “Who shot me?”

  “No one.” Pat took a seat on the side of the bed. Mitch’s lungs filled with the sweet scent of strawberries. He wanted Darren out of the room so he could explore that aroma in a more intimate way.

  “You were wounded by a hellhound.” Moose came into view, towering over the bed and blocking out everything behind him. “Some dude named Nazaryth put some creamy shit on you and healed you.”

  “That sounds so wrong,” Darren said. “Why did you make it sound so sexual?” Darren turned toward Mitch. “He made a salve out of some healing plants and had Pat keep smearing it on your wound.”

  “Why do you have to make it sound so technical?” Moose asked. “My explanation sounded way better.” He winked at Mitch.

  The memory of what happened came flooding back. Mitch tried to look at his arm, but he couldn’t see the extent of the damage without looking in a mirror. “How bad is it?”

  “Well…” Pat licked his lips, and Mitch couldn’t stop himself from thinking about a kiss. “As you said before”—he waved a hand at Darren and Moose—“those weren’t run-of-the-mill hellhounds. You were wounded by a tenebris creaturae. Which means dark creation or some shit. Nazaryth called them firstborns.” Pat smoothed his hand over the bedding. “You’ve been out for three days, the whole time in your cheetah form, and we had to move you because now those hellhounds want revenge.”

  “But I killed Demonian,” Mitch said. He recalled stabbing the hellhound in his mark behind his ear. The dog had fallen to the floor, dead.

  Pat shook his head then explained to Mitch what Nazaryth had explained to the others. Mitch knew who Nazaryth was, and what he was. Mitch had done his research on all the Ultionem members, and what he couldn’t dig up, he inquired about until he had gotten the answers he had wanted.

  Nazaryth, no last name, was the leader of the winged beasts. He had been created as a full-grown man instead of born as a babe. Nazaryth had been appointed ruler of the winged beasts and had ruled them for over two thousand years before he had been exiled, along with all the other winged beasts, from a place called Zanthar.

  If a guy like that had said Demonian and Syphon were bad news, Mitch had something to fear.

  “Nazaryth said he’ll track the two down. All he wants us to do is lay low,” Pat said.

  “Or we go after them before they get us,” Moose said. “I’m not one for sitting on my ass.”

  “And how do you suppose we send them back to Hell?” Darren asked. “You heard that guy. They can’t be killed, even if you remove their heads.”

  “Then we removed all their body parts and keep them separated,” Moose said. “Arms, legs, head.”

  “That’s just gross.” Pat wrinkled his nose.

  Mitch was still trying to absorb what Pat had told him. Mates? Hellhounds had mates? Since when the fuck was that possible? Evil entities shouldn’t have a shot at happiness. That was ass-backward. Evil and happiness didn’t go hand in hand.

  “Where are we?” Mitch cleared his throat and tried once more to sit up. He finally managed, with Moose’s help.

  “Honestly, I’m not sure.” Pat looked around the room. “Panahasi created a vortex and brought us here, but I have no idea where ‘here’ is.”

  “I looked out the window, but all I saw was mist,” Darren said.

  “We’ll let you two talk,” Moose said before he and Darren left the room.

  Mitch glanced at the dark wood-paneled walls, the heavy drapery, and the antique-looking bed. It felt as though they were in some kind of castle.

  “Panahasi said this place was warded, whatever that means.” Pat shrugged. “Magic I guess. I don’t know too much about that.” He pressed his hands into his lap and gave a wobbly smile before he looked at Mitch. “So how do you feel? How’s your arm?”

  Mitch tried to curl his fingers in, but they barely moved. “I feel fine, but my arm hurts, and I can’t seem to move it.”

  “Nazaryth said you may or may not lose use of it because of who those hellhounds were, but you’re damn lucky to be alive.” Pat touched Mitch’s hand and then pulled back. “I think it’s too soon to tell, though. Just give it time.”

  Mitch noticed the mist of tears in Pat’s eyes. He reached out and grabbed Pat’s hand, giving it a light squeeze. “Hey, I’m okay.”

  Pat fanned his face. “I know, but…I just ke
pt thinking that if I lost you, I know nothing about you. Then I thought that maybe that would be better because if I got to know you the loss would hurt more, and then I felt like crap for thinking that.”

  “This whole situation is stressful.” Mitch pulled Pat against his chest. “But I’m okay, I’m here, and we can get to know each other all you want.”

  Pat smiled through his tears when he pulled away. “I’d like that very much.”

  Mitch gave his mate what he wanted. They talked for the next few hours, interrupted only once when Darren brought them some food. Mitch was in pain, hadn't the first clue where he was, or what they were gonna do about the hellhounds, but he set his worries aside, and for the first time in a very long time, he laughed quite a few times as they talked on and on.

  Things might be dire, but Mitch wouldn’t have traded this time for anything in the world. He hooked his hand around Pat’s nape and pulled him close. “Sorry, but I’ve been dying for a kiss.”

  “Well…I mean…if you’re dying for one…I guess…”

  Mitch grinned before he closed the distance, stopping Pat’s nervousness with a soul-stirring kiss that had his body catching fire, only in a good way this time. His little fox melted against him, moaning as he lapped at Mitch’s lips, sucked in his tongue, and continued to scoot even closer.

  Mitch was just about to yank Pat under him when the entire room shook. The kiss had been fantastic, but he doubted the earth had moved because of it.

  “What was that?” Pat pulled away and looked around.

  Darren burst into the room. “We’re under attack!”

  Chapter Three

  “Easy!” Pat saw the intense pain on Mitch’s face when he tried to climb out of bed. He had a suspicion that his mate was stubborn as fuck. “Take it slow.”

  “I can’t take it slow,” Mitch snarled. “What kind of attack?”

  “The winged beasts scattered when the shaking started.” Darren helped Mitch to his feet. Mitch’s shirt was gone, and Pat felt like a complete perv for checking his muscles out, but damn it, they were right in front of him to ogle.

  “Where did they go?” Mitch hissed as he sat on the side of the bed. His facial muscles were tight as his left arm dangled beside him. Pat wasn’t sure if Mitch was trying to move the arm, but it lay immobile.

  Pat grabbed Mitch’s underwear—because he had been smart enough to grab some of Mitch’s clothes before they had left the cabin—and pulled them up his mate’s hairy legs. Next he helped Mitch with his jeans and socks.

  “I think they went to check things out.” Darren grabbed Mitch’s shirt and slid it over his head. “I think I heard one of them say hellhounds, but I’m not sure since everything exploded into chaos.”

  Mitch’s canines descended. Pat wasn’t sure if it was because of the danger or his mate’s frustration from being so helpless. Pat knew how he felt. He stood there helpless as Mitch struggled to get his arms into the sleeves of the T-shirt. Pat finally got fed up and helped him get his left arm in, although he saw in Mitch’s eyes that he hated needing any help.

  Without asking, Pat bent and put Mitch’s boots on and then tied them. Mitch might not want any help, but at least he was ready to go. If he never gained use of his arm again, he would have to get over his stubborn streak because Pat planned on helping out as much as he could.

  “This way.” Darren led them from the room. At least now Pat knew where they were, somewhat. He had heard of the winged beasts—and had met Nazaryth—but knew nothing about where they lived.

  They walked down a hallway with dozens of doors, all made of dark wood, and all of them had some strange writing on them. If Pat had had the time he would have stopped to check them out, but Darren and Mitch were walking too fast, their strides long and purposeful, and Pat had to nearly run to keep up with them.

  Pat threw his arms out to steady himself when the floor beneath him shook.

  Some guy with olive-colored skin and pretty eyes looked their way when they entered a huge living room area, one wall filled with computer monitors. “The hellhounds are trying to break through our defenses.”

  “They’re here?” Pat’s jaw dropped as his eyes widened. Darren had said he thought one of the men had mentioned the hellhounds, but to have it confirmed made Pat shake like crazy. He had dealt with critical conditions all the time as a police dispatcher, but he had always been on the phone when they were unfolding, trying to keep the person on the other end calm.

  Now that he was knee-deep in shit, keeping calm wasn’t as easy as Pat had always made it out to be. He stared at the monitors and saw two guys outside what looked to be an abandoned hanger. They were throwing their arms out, as if using magic, and every time they did, the floor beneath Pat shook.

  “Follow me,” the stranger said. “We need to get you guys out of here. If the hellhounds break through, I don’t want you guys caught in the crossfire.”

  Moose came from one of the rooms, finally joining them. He must have heard what the guy said, because he replied, “We aren’t pussies. We know how to handle ourselves.”

  The stranger glared at Moose. “Not against this kind of threat.” He waved a hand at Mitch. “Your boss barely made it out of that fight alive, and that was going against one firstborn.”

  Pat grabbed Mitch’s right hand and squeezed it as fear trickled down his spine. He didn’t like being on the front line. Pat would much rather be on the phone telling someone else that everything was gonna be okay. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been this afraid—aside from when Mitch had been hurt.

  “Do you think it’s wise for us to go out there?” Pat pointed at the monitors. “We’ll be handing ourselves over to them.”

  The guy shook his head. “Hellhounds can’t fly.”

  “Fly?” Pat furrowed his brows. He looked over at Moose. “What is he talking about?”

  Moose shrugged. “I’m not your winged beast whisperer. We’ll both find out together.”

  Pat scowled. “You’re no help.”

  “Go easy on him.” Mitch kissed Pat’s jaw. “He looks big and scary, but he’s all soft and gooey on the inside.”

  The stranger smirked. “Just follow me.”

  Those three words made Pat’s chest ache. He could only hope that this stranger wasn’t leading them to their deaths. Pat was a pistol when riled, but he wasn’t a fighter. He didn’t even know how to throw a proper punch.

  “I won’t let anything happen to you,” Mitch said. “I promise.”

  “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

  “I never do.” Mitch pulled him forward through a door on the other side of the room. They climbed upward until the stranger shoved at a door above his head.

  When they all climbed out, Pat was shocked that they were standing on a mountain. On a fucking mountain! Pat scooted close to the edge to look over so he could see how high up they were, but there was mist below the edge, hiding the bottom. Maybe that was for the better because he would probably faint if he saw just how high up they were.

  He was already lightheaded as the wind whistled around them, lifting strands of Pat’s hair and blowing it around.

  Standing on the opposite side of him were three more strangers. The guy who had guided them up the stairs smirked at Pat. “I’m Dog, and I’m about to take you for a ride. No matter how afraid you get, don’t struggle in my arms.”

  “Wait…what?” Pat backed away, but he could go only so far before he was close the edge. “What’re you about to do?”

  Dog grabbed him around the waist and jerked upward, his long expanse of wings shooting out. Pat screamed as they soared through the air, Dog’s wings flapping gracefully.

  “Close your eyes if you’re that frightened,” he called out to Pat.

  Pat clung to him as he slammed his eyes closed, praying Dog didn’t drop him. It was a very long way down if the guy did.

  “You doing okay?” Dog asked.

  “Hell no!” Pat kept his eyes clenched shut.
“Just tell me when we’re on the ground again.”

  He wanted to look past Dog to see where Mitch was, but that meant opening his eyes, and fuck if Pat was doing that. He felt dizzy as hell and feared he would throw up if he opened his eyes.

  The wind blasted around him, and if Pat wasn’t mistaken, they were going higher. Dog’s arms were wrapped tightly around him, but that didn’t make Pat feel any safer. When the guy’s arm twitched, Pat cried out.

  “You’re safe,” the guy said. “I promise I’m not going to drop you.”

  “I want Mitch.” Pat blinked back tears. “Are we there yet?”

  A deep, rumbling laughter rolled through Dog’s chest. “You sound like a kid. We’re almost there.”

  Finally, Pat felt them descending. He cracked his eyes open and looked down then inhaled a sharp breath when he saw Panahasi standing in an open field, a large vortex swirling next to him.

  Dog flew right through it, and Pat felt bile rise to the back of his throat. The darkness faded, and Dog landed softly on a grassy mound next to a dark lake.

  As soon as Dog let him go, Pat dropped to his hands and knees and kissed the grass.

  “It wasn’t so bad.” Dog grinned. “At least I didn’t twirl you around.”

  Pat glared at him. “I would have punched you if you had.”

  The others landed close by. Pat pushed to his feet and threw himself into Mitch’s arms. His mate curled an arm around him. “You okay?”

  “I am now,” Pat said. “But where in the hell are we?”

  “Serenity City,” Dog said. “The demon warriors will be with you shortly.”

  Pat watched as the four winged men flew toward the sky. The vortex was still opened, and they flew through it before it closed.

  “I don’t like all this freaky-deaky shit going on.” Pat let Mitch go as his stomach settled.

  “I thought it was kind of cool.” Moose grinned. “I want another ride.”

  “Told you he was dropped on his head as a cub,” Darren said. He was bent over, his hands pressed against his knees, appearing a bit green. “I never want to fly again.”