Page 5 of The Hellhound's Mate
I blinked at Saph. “There is?”
He approached a wall and gave it a push. The stone was only a facade on top of a wooden door that popped open to reveal a set of dirt stairs descending into darkness.
I cleared my throat. “That’s, um, not the way to the gates of Hell, right?”
Saph actually chuckled. “I promise it goes to the house.”
Only slightly reassured, I walked over and paused. “Goddess, that’s dark…” I whispered and made to reach for my phone to turn the light on again.
“Let me go first,” Saph said before easing by me and ducking into the opening.
Hard muscle and soft fur briefly brushed against me, and I shivered at the feel of both. I’d always thought Belle should’ve been able to keep her Beast and that the Big Bad Wolf had gotten a bad rap, but oh, now I understood the depth of my depravity. Fur, fangs, claws, and a touch of hellfire might be exactly what I needed.
And then Saph reached for my hand, grasping it in rough fingers and pulling me forward into the blackness of the tunnel. Icaught my breath at both the touch and the possibility that I was surrounded by snakes, spiders, rats, or who knew what else that could live down in the dirt, but I didn’t try to light my way for a second.
Saph might let go of my hand if I did.
That massive hand enveloped mine as I held onto his middle finger like a lifeline and stumbled after him in the pitch black of the tunnel. The candlelight faded quickly and, though the sound was muted, the thunderclaps outside still reached my ears. The tunnel floor was dirt, but it was level for the most part, with only the occasional rock or stick—tree root?—hampering my steps.
“Who made this tunnel?” I cleared my throat since I sounded rather breathless. “Was it so the family could visit the mausoleum secretly for some reason?”
“No, I made it from an old ghoul’s tunnel. They consumed the corpses centuries ago and left to find more. Though I hated having them here at the time, their tunnels have proved helpful.”
Ghouls? I wasn’t entirely sure what those were, but if they ate the dead, well, I could certainly imagine that horror. But also, it had been centuries ago and yet Saph had known the ghouls? Centuries ago?
“How long have you been here?”
“Three hundred seventy-seven years.”
“Goddess.”
“I’m quite a lot older, though.”
“How old are you?”
“I’m not entirely sure, but they called where I was born Tartarus back then.”
Tartarus was the deepest part of the Underworld, according to Greek mythology. It was Hell before the Christians got ahold of it. Saph had been born in Hell.
“Saph? What are you?”
“I’m a hellhound,” he said before pushing open a door that let a little yellow glow of light into the tunnel.
Pleased that I’d been right about what Saph was, I followed him out of the tunnel and into what definitely looked like a stone block basement. Saph’s head nearly reached the cobwebbed rafters above him, there was a nightlight plugged in near the stairs, and?—
“This is your home!” I exclaimed as I squeezed Saph’s big finger.
In one corner of the room was a large, well-made bed with an actual canopy, a pair of leather club chairs, and a small table between them. Most of the room was full of things covered by sheets and old cardboard boxes, but that corner was absolutely where someone lived.
Saph shrugged one shoulder, and I bet he blushed beneath the darkness of his fur.
I moved around in front of my great beast and clasped his other hand as well. “Saph, listen to me. This place is more your home than mine, so please don’t ever think I want you anywhere else but here. Okay?”
Saph gazed steadily at me before he blinked and nodded. “Okay.”
Happiness made me hug Saph’s massive hands to my chest as a wiggle of desire returned. How did one go about kissing someone with a wolf’s muzzle?
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