Page 61 of How to Flirt with a Hellhound
I could see lights in the distance ahead now, and I knew that at least I was headed back towards the houses. But if I could see the lights, then there was also the possibility that he’d be able to see me once I got closer to them. Darkness was my friend out here.
I didn’t think he’d shoot me, but what did I know? He’d shot Dex in the head—but he was fine; he had to be fine—but that implied he was a pretty good shot. He could probably shoot me in the leg or something, and then I’d be fucking caught.
I didn’t know what to do. Shit, shit, shit.
And then I thought I heard it… a low growling sound.
Oh god, please, please let it be a hellhound. Please let it be Dex or Corbin or Jude or fuckinganyone.
Then I saw them off in the distance—the little red and blue flames dancing along the back of a tall, dark, hound-like figure. Only it wasn’t coming from the direction of the house; it was coming from back in the woods.
It wasn’t Dex, but it was a hellhound. Was it Corbin or Jude? I had no idea, but I thought they’d come from a car if they were going to get here. But what did I know? How fast could hellhounds run? I wished I had asked even more questions.
I did the only thing I could think of—I ran towards him. At this point a strange hellhound was far better than my stalker. I had to believe it was someone Dex knew, and Dex needed help.
I didn’t try to keep quiet now; I just ran.
“Toby!” the man’s voice cried out, and I heard footsteps crashing through the woods behind me, but I didn’t care at this point.
“He shot Dexter!” I called out into the darkness, aiming for the hellhound, running as fast as I could. He had stopped and stood still, as if surprised I was runningtowardhim, but at my words he charged forward.
Oh god, oh god, oh god. He was fucking huge, and he was on fire, and his eyes were glowing red, and he was growling, and it was fucking scary. It was not Dexter, and I didn’t think it was Jude or Corbin either although I had no fucking clue why I thought that.
The hellhound was careening toward me, and the stalker was running behind me, and I was literally caught between a psychopath with a gun and a creature from hell. I felt like the hellhound was literally going to collide with me, but the stalker was right fucking behind me now. I could practically feel him reaching out to me.
“Gotcha!” he cried out, snagging the back of my shirt. I went down, stumbling over my feet, and I felt the stalker go down on top of me, knocking the wind out of me.
I gasped, trying to catch my breath, feeling the heavy weight on top of me, and then it was gone, knocked off me.
I rolled over and turned around, and there was the hellhound, dripping fire, snarling, and growling. He was standing over the man, who was laying dazed in the dirt. I could see the stalker now in the glow from the flames, and he looked like an attractive and fit guy, which somehow made me even more pissed off. Shouldn’t he have some tragic backstory to explain his stalking?
“What the fuck?” he whispered, and then he raised his hand with the gun in it, but the hellhound was too fast for him, snapping his jaw down on the man’s wrist.
The man screamed in agony, dropping the gun, rolling around and grabbing his wrist. The hellhound just stood there over him, growling but doing nothing else, and I couldn’t figure out why. I wanted to shout at him to finish the man off, even if that was terribly brutal. I wanted him to go help Dex. I opened my mouth to demand that of him, and that’s when I saw a figure stalking toward us in the darkness.
Dexter.
He was alive.
Dear god, he was alive, and he was fucking beautiful, flames dancing along his skin as he prowled through the woods toward us. His bare feet and bare chest shone in the moonlight and the glow of his flames, and the dark sweatpants he had pulled on somehow didn’t burn away. There was blood on his head and in his hair, trailing down his chest, but he was walking towards us; he was alive.
“Dex!” I sobbed, relief and fear crashing into me, making me shake. I couldn’t even get up. I wanted to run to him but I couldn’t seem to make my arms and legs work.
He growled as he stared at me, looking me up and down, but I wasn’t afraid. I could never be afraid of him.
“I’m ok,” I called out. “I thought you were…”
I couldn’t even finish it.
He was suddenly in front of me, and it was like it had taken him years and merely seconds to get to me. I knew I was probably in shock or dealing with an adrenaline rush or something; I felt weak and shaky and cold and a little out of it, and I couldn’t hold back a sob when I felt his hands close over my arms.
He grabbed me to him, pulling me in close, and his flames licked along my skin, but they didn’t hurt at all. He was growling steadily, holding me tightly, and his warmth felt so good against my skin. My teeth were suddenly chattering, and I could only huddle into him.
He was safe. He was alive. He was ok.
“You’re ok,” I whispered, and he nodded his head against me, still growling. He held me for… I don’t know how long. Time seemed funny to me, and it could have been five minutes or an hour. At some point it was like reality came rushing back in, and I realized the man was sobbing quietly behind us. I tried to pull back to look, but Dex only held me tighter.
“Kill him,” Dex murmured above me.
