His Foxy Devil Page 9

  “I can prove it to you,” the stranger said. “Just let me—”

  The guy’s head snapped back just as the window in the living room shattered. Mitch stared in horror at the small hole in the imposter’s forehead.

  “Sniper!”

  Moose and Darren dove toward the floor. Mitch crouched down behind the chair.

  A car engine roared to life, and then the sound of gravel crunching reached Mitch’s ears. The shooter was fleeing.

  Mitch jumped up and raced for the door, Darren and Moose hot on his heels. By the time he made it outside, the only thing left of the shooter was a cloud of dust from the gravel.

  Mitch spun and ran back inside, heading straight for the bedroom. He flung the door open and then hurried to the closet. When he opened the door, he found the closet empty. Mitch’s hand squeezed the doorknob, crushing it as he felt his world fall out from beneath him.

  Where in the fuck was Pat? Mitch checked the window, but it was still locked, and no one had come or gone from the room. Mitch would have seen a stranger strolling past him. There were a handful of creatures that could have gained access without the use of a door or window.

  Mitch didn’t think it was an elf or demon who had gotten into the bedroom undetected, but he could be wrong since he still didn’t believe Holbrook was alive. Mitch was dead accurate with a gun, and no fucking way had Holbrook gotten up and walked away from the bullets Mitch had pumped into his body.

  But whoever was behind this made damn sure the shapeshifter wouldn’t talk. Too bad the bastard had gotten away.

  “Uh, what’s wrong?” Moose asked when he entered the room. “You look like you’re ready to yank someone’s eyeballs out.”

  “Pat is missing,” Mitch said through gritted teeth. “He’s not in the closet.”

  “And I smell sulfur again,” Moose said.

  Mitch had been so busy trying to figure out how Pat vanished that he hadn’t paid attention to the scent lingering in the room.

  “Demonian?” Darren asked as he joined them.

  “It’s not his scent,” Mitch said. “I spent enough time around him to know what he smells like.”

  “Noxious with an underlying hint of brimstone,” Moose said in a slight singsong voice as if he were describing a new perfume.

  “I still say you were dropped on your head as a cub.” Darren eyed Moose. “The smell is disgusting. Period.”

  “I didn’t say I liked it,” Moose argued. “I’m just saying it’s very distinct.”

  Mitch was done pussyfooting around. Pat was out there somewhere, having god only knew what happening to him. Mitch needed manpower—the kind of power that none of them possessed. He pulled his phone out and dialed as Darren and Moose continued to argue.

  “I need the Ultionem,” Mitch said when Panahasi answered. “Someone took my mate, and I think it was either Demonian or Syphon.”

  “We’re on our way.” Panahasi hung up.

  “Did you just seriously ask for all the leaders?” Darren stared wide at him. “Like…in all of them in the same room?”

  Moose gave a low whistle. “Now that’s what I call knowing people in high places.”

  Not really. Mitch knew all of them by name and face, but Panahasi was the one he knew enough to call when in a bind.

  Mitch exited the bedroom when he heard a faint noise. Panahasi emerged from the shadows, Maverick at his side. Rakeym shimmered into the room seconds later.

  There were only three, but power bled from them.

  “That was fast,” Mitch said. “Thank you for coming.”

  “We were in a meeting together,” Panahasi said.

  Mitch cut the pleasantry short as he told them about being taken to the house where they’d first found Demonian, what had happened there, and then about the shapeshifter and Pat’s disappearance.

  Mitch was barely holding himself together. He wanted his mate back in his arms, unscathed. He wanted this bullshit to end so he and Pat could start their lives together.

  But most of all, Mitch just wanted peace and quiet, something he had never thought about before he had met Pat. Mitch had lived for the next contract, loved trotting the globe to rid it of scum, and had been a thrill seeker.

  Now all he wanted was to run his business from home. He just had to find his mate first.

  * * * *

  Could one believe anything that came out of a hellhound’s mouth? They were the hounds of Hell, after all, and had been born with very nasty dispositions. By their very definition, they were evil.

  So why on earth was Pat enthralled with Syphon’s story? Why was he sitting on the edge of his seat as Syphon told him about how he and Demonian had been hunted down by their own kind, how Demonian had to kill every hellhound that came near them, of how Syphon had been tortured just because he had been born different?

  “I hate being like this,” Syphon said. “I hate being different. I would have had a much easier life if I had been born just like all the rest of them. But I wasn’t. I have compassion and empathy. I have morals and a conscience. Those qualities have been the bane of my existence.”

  Pat rubbed his hands up and down his thighs, wondering what to say. Did he believe Syphon? Was the hellhound really a good guy? Pat wanted to laugh at that thought. Hellhound and good guy were never used in the same sentence.

  If Syphon was lying, he was a damn good actor because Pat saw the grief and hate in the man’s dark eyes. He saw how Syphon twisted his hands, how his shoulders slumped, and how he kept looking out the window longingly, as if he really missed Demonian.

  “So you just walked out on your mate?”

  A wry smile surfaced. “All because I didn’t want him to kill you or your mate. Yet here you sit after I kidnapped you, and I want nothing more than to wipe you and the others from existence so Demonian and I can get on with our lives.”

  Pat slowly raised his hand. “I vote to let me live.”

  Syphon gave Pat a genuine handsome smile. “I like you.”

  “Enough not to kill me?” He held up both hands in a surrender gesture. “I get where you’re coming from. I really do. Do you know how many people call nine-one-one because of something fucked up happening to them? More than a small town should have. I hear horror stories about partners abusing the other, of horrible things happening to children, car wrecks that take lives, and okay, some stupid calls, too. Like when Mrs. O’Reilly thinks her cat is trying to kill her. But you know what?”

  Syphon shook his head. “What?”

  “Tragedy and suffering make us stronger people. We are who we are from the things we’ve overcome in life. It makes us appreciate life even more, makes us appreciate the warm sun on our faces or the sound of the wind rustling through the trees. It makes us love harder, and…and…I know that I want every second I’m blessed with to spend with my mate. Instead of trying to kill us, you two should be somewhere starting over, appreciating the sunrise as you sit on the porch sipping coffee and enjoying each other’s company.”

  Syphon growled. “That’s exactly what I want, but Demonian is hell-bent on making Mitch and the others pay. He won’t listen to reason.”

  “Then you have to make him listen,” Pat argued. Not only to help Syphon out but to save his own skin. Pat really didn’t want to die. “Mitch unknowingly tried to take Demonian from you, and now you’re trying to take me from Mitch. When does the cycle end? Someone has to be the bigger person and say this is stupid and this revenge thing should just stop.”

  Syphon grunted as he crossed his arms. “The only way he’ll let this go is if you, Mitch, Darren, and Moose are dead, and I can’t just say you’re dead because, when Demonian sliced his tooth on Mitch’s arm, a bond was created.”

  “A bond?” Pat didn’t like the sound of that. In fact, he felt a bit green.

  “Not sexual,” Syphon amended as though he knew where Pat’s mind had gone. The thought of Mitch “bonding” with anyone else had Pat’s jealousy skyrocketing. He ground his jaw and folded h
is arms over his chest, seething at the images that popped into his head.

  “But he can sense Mitch wherever he is,” Syphon went on as if he hadn’t noticed Pat’s changed attitude. You’ll never be free of him.”

  “Okay, bub.” Pat stood and fisted his hands. “Just stop talking before I let my fox loose. There is no bonding going on. Got that?”

  Syphon chuckled, as if Pat’s anger amused him. “I told you it wasn’t that kind of bonding.”

  Pat tapped his temple. “My brain is having a hard time telling the difference. My fox wants to scratch your eyes out for putting those thoughts in my head.”

  Syphon rolled his eyes. “Anyway, your brother is fine. Demonian never kidnapped him. It was a ruse to lure you to him.”

  Pat was filled with relief. “Don’t you ever do that to me again,” he snapped. “You don’t fuck with a guy’s family.”

  “And that’s my whole point,” Syphon snarled. “Your mate tried to fuck with mine.”

  They jumped when the door to the shack slammed open. Pat shouted and backed toward the wall, the chair falling over at his feet as his temporary badassery faded.

  “Demonian,” Syphon said. “What are you doing here?”

  Demonian’s dark gaze landed on Pat. “What the fuck is going on?”

  “You forced my hand!” Syphon’s fists convulsed at his sides. “Since you won’t leave until you have your revenge, I’m killing them for you.”

  Demonian’s gaze snapped to Syphon. “I can’t let you do that.”

  “Why not?” Syphon demanded.

  Pat tried to slide behind Demonian so he could reach the door, but Demonian jabbed a finger at him. “Not another step.” He turned to Syphon. “You’re not a killer, and I’ll be damned if you’ll turn into one because of me.”

  This was the strangest conversation Pat had ever heard two hellhounds have. Not that he had met any other, but maybe Syphon had been telling the truth. Maybe the two just wanted to be left alone.

  Pat remained quiet, hoping the two forgot about him. There was no way he could fight either man, so he was at their mercy.

  Demonian spun and growled at the door.

  “What is it?” Syphon asked.

  “We have company,” Demonian said. “The Ultionem have just arrived.”

  Chapter Ten

  Mitch did not like traveling by darkness. His stomach pitched a fit, and his head spun as he and Panahasi, along with the other men, emerged into the middle of a field.

  “You gonna be okay?” Panahasi smirked.

  “Just as soon as my stomach stops rolling.” Mitch pressed his hand against his belly and sucked down a few gulps of air. “After this is over, I’m walking home.” He looked around. “Where the fuck are we?”

  “Close to your mate,” Panahasi said as Maverick joined them.

  Mitch had met the wolf shifter a time or two, and every time he was impressed by the man’s sheer size and overall biker appearance. His dark hair reached his waist, and it was tied back by a leather strap. He had piercing gray eyes—eyes that seemed to hold a world of knowledge.

  “So how do we send them back to Hell?” Maverick asked. “You said normal methods wouldn’t work, so stabbing and burning is out of the question.”

  “You’re here to save the fox. I’ll handle the puppies.”

  Mitch wasn’t sure why Panahasi was baiting the wolf shifter. They didn’t have time for a pissing contest. Pat was inside that shack, and Mitch needed to get him out.

  While the two leaders butted heads, Mitch stormed toward the front entrance. Some kind of help they were.

  Rakeym grabbed Mitch, clearly to stop him, but a hard, sharp pain sliced down his left arm. The bastard had grabbed his wounded arm.

  “Son of a bitch!” Mitch snatched his arm away. “Touch me again and I’ll cut your fucking hand off.”

  The sheer agony made him forget who he was talking to. At the moment, Mitch didn’t care, not when he was gritting his teeth as his arm throbbed.

  “You could try.” Rakeym stared at him with his mismatched eyes. One was emerald green while the other was dark amber. The shadow elf leader was tall, and blue, which always made Mitch wary. The guy’s long sable-black hair was braided down his back, and he had black claws instead of fingernails.

  Mitch never wanted to go up against this guy in a fight.

  “I’m not letting you face two firstborns,” Rakeym said. “That’s suicide, and how will that save your little fox?”

  “What am I supposed to do?” Mitch snarled. “Let those two bicker until Pat’s lifeless body is tossed outside?”

  “No, we let them handle the hellhounds while I rescue your mate.”

  Before Mitch could ask what the elf was talking about, Rakeym shimmered away. Seconds later he returned, with Pat wrapped in his arms. Rakeym let him go, and Pat threw himself at Mitch.

  Mitch coiled his right arm around his mate, pressing his cheek against his red hair. “Were you hurt? What did Syphon do to you?”

  “Nothing.” Pat pulled back. “We just talked.”

  “Talked?” Mitch frowned. “That’s it? Why would he kidnap you from our home just to talk?”

  “He wanted to tell me a story.” Pat looked over his shoulder. “We have to get those men out of here. We can’t let them kill Demonian and Syphon.”

  “Stockholm syndrome,” Rakeym said.

  “I don’t have that,” Pat argued. “I just identify with what they’re going through.”

  Mitch rolled his eyes. “Babe, that’s the definition of the condition.”

  “They’re hellhounds,” Rakeym said. “Firstborns, which means they’re pure evil. There is nothing to identify with.”

  Mitch still couldn’t believe he had Pat in his arms. He had thought there would be a battle to the death in order to get his mate back. He crushed Pat against him again, thanking the gods he was safe. Mitch inhaled his strawberry scent and let it settle into his lungs, soothing the rioting that had been going on inside him since Pat’s disappearance. Mitch was amazed at how much Pat had come to mean to him, how much he loved his little fox.

  Pat slapped Mitch’s chest. “You’re holding me too tight.”

  Mitch pulled back and kissed his mate with all the love and passion he felt toward the man. When he pulled away, Pat smiled up at him.

  “I need to get kidnapped more often if you’re going to react that way.”

  Mitch shook his head. “Let’s try not to make it a habit.”

  “Let’s end this,” Panahasi said as he joined them. “You guys guard Mitch and Pat. I’ll take care of the hellhounds.”

  Mitch watched as the demon leader strode into the shack. There was a loud explosion, screaming, and then the windows shattered.

  Then all went quiet.

  “Is it over?” Mitch asked.

  Maverick walked to the door and opened it. He looked back at them. “The shack is empty.”

  “Just like that?” Mitch asked.

  They watched as Maverick answered his ringing phone. When he hung up, he walked back to them. “That was Panahasi. He’s taken Demonian and Syphon back to where they belong.”

  Mitch breathed in relief. It was over.

  Almost. He still had to track down the person who had paid the shapeshifter. “Can Pat stay with you until I handle something?” he asked Maverick.

  “Not a problem,” Maverick said.

  Rakeym shimmered them to Brac Village. Maverick made a phone call, and he, along with Pat, were whisked away by one of the wolf shifter’s men. Mitch turned to the elf. “Care to join me on a hunt?”

  Rakeym grinned. “I live for them.”

  * * * *

  Mitch couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw Holbrook. The shapeshifter had been telling the truth. After a bloody fight and making sure the traitor had died this time, Mitch had picked Pat up from the Den and taken him home.

  He had called his men and told them they would meet up tomorrow. Mitch wanted this night to himself.<
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  His entire body was sore, and all Mitch wanted to do was sleep, but after a long, hot shower, he pulled Pat close to him and kissed his mate with all the love he felt for his little fox shifter.

  “What was that for?” Pat asked when he pulled away.

  “I just wanted you to know how I felt about you.” Mitch tucked a stray piece of red hair behind Pat’s ear. “We can finally live our lives without running from bad guys. How does that sound?”

  “Like heaven,” Pat replied. “I can finally go back to work.”

  Mitch shook his head. “We’re still in our honeymoon period. The only place you’re going to is our bed.”

  With a peal of laughter, Pat raced toward the room, Mitch hot on his heels. When Mitch entered, his mate was already stripping.

  Mitch leaned against the doorframe and watched, his heart light and his chest tight at what Pat meant to him.

  Pat smiled. “You just gonna stand there?”

  Mitch strode across the room. “I might need help undressing.”

  Biting his bottom lip, Pat pulled Mitch’s shirt over his head. Then he dropped to his knees, and when he unfastened his jeans and spread the material apart, he took Mitch’s cock into his mouth.

  “Fuck!” Mitch threw his head back, hissing as Pat took his dick all the way down his throat. “Goddamn I love you.”

  Pat pulled Mitch’s cock from his mouth. “You’re only saying that because I give good head.”

  “Shut up and stuff my dick back into your mouth,” Mitch said with a grin.

  “So bossy.” But Pat did as Mitch demanded.

  Mitch ground his teeth, trying to stave off his orgasm, but it was no use. Pat’s tongue was too talented. Mitch’s orgasm came quick and hard, making him lightheaded as he came down Pat’s throat.

  Pat rose to his feet, licking his lips. “That was round one.”

  “You’ve got the devil in you.” Mitch panted, ready for whatever Pat had in mind.

  “I’ve been told that.” Pat finished undressing Mitch. “I choose to think of myself as naughty, though.”