Page 62 of How to Flirt with a Hellhound
There was a growl in response, and the man just continued his low sobbing noises.
“Why the fuck not?” Dex asked.
Another growl, and I had no idea if Dex understood what the other hellhound was saying or not, but he just gave a sigh.
“Toby, this is Atlas. Atlas, this is Toby,” he murmured.
I peeked out from behind Dex, and this time he let his hold loosen enough that I could. Atlas was still standing over the man, who was gripping his wrist and writhing in pain, whimpering and crying. There was blood on him, and I tried not to notice that.
“Hi,” I said. “Nice to meet you!” And then I giggled a little, because, yeah, this was kind of crazy.
Atlas sort of nodded his head in apparent greeting, then the man rolled a little to the side, and he was right back to growling and snarling at the guy, who went right back to whimpering.
Dex picked me up like I weighed absolutely nothing and started walking back towards the house with me. “Take him to the basement, Atlas,” he called over his shoulder.
I snuggled into his chest, and I could smell the smoky, campfire smell that was pure Dex. I closed my eyes, soaking in the warmth and letting everything else but the feel and smell of Dex slip away.
Chapter 24
Dexter
Getting shot in the head wasnotpleasant.
I wanted the fucker dead. He’d terrorized my Toby. I could still smell the fear on him—an acrid and bitter scent that he hadn’t entirely shaken off.
Hellhounds didn’t die easily. I’d never known one who’d actually been killed, so I wasn’t sure it was even possible. Some things took a little recovery time, though, and getting shot in the brain was something that took a few moments to get over. Hellhounds had the speed to dodge a head shot, but there had been Toby to consider, and taking the shot had seemed the best course of action.
Any other bullet wounds wouldn’t have slowed me down, but a head shot required a bit more work. By the time I’d expelled the bullet from my brain and had full awareness back, I’d smelled Toby’s fear, the stench of the rotting soul, and, thankfully, another hellhound.
Atlas must have been close by, and Jude or Corbin must’ve texted him to get over here. Why he wouldn’t kill the fucker I didn’t know, and he clearly didn’t feel like shifting to explain. Maybe he just didn’t want to scare Toby; I didn’t know if he knew that Toby even knew about us.
So much to figure out, but first, my Toby. He was cradled in my arms, and his shaking had subsided. I carried him into his house and upstairs to his bedroom, pausing only to shut the music off downstairs, which I managed to do without putting Toby down.
I walked into the bathroom, and that’s where the dilemma was. I didn’t really want to let him go, but I needed to wash off the blood, and Toby was messy with dirt and leaves from the forest.
I managed to grip him with one arm and free a hand to turn the water on. The sound seemed to rouse Toby, because he started to shift like he wanted down out of my arms. I growled but let him stand, making sure he was steady. He stayed huddled into my arms, and I stripped off his shirt, making sure to stay close and keep body contact with him. I managed to slide down my pants and kick them off, and then I slid his off as well, his hands using my shoulders for support when I knelt down.
He still looked dazed and a bit out of it, and I picked him up and carried him into the shower, letting the hot water spray down onto him, making sure his face stayed clear. He eventually seemed to rouse, and he put his hands on my shoulders and made motions as if to get out of my arms.
“I can stand up,” he murmured.
I could only growl in response. Maybe it was a delayed response on my part, but it was starting to hit me that Toby had almost been hurt. What if the guy had shot him? What if in the moments the bullet had been expelling from my brain, he’d hurt my Toby? I growled again.
Toby patted my chest. “I’m ok,” he murmured, almost as if he could sense my thoughts. “I’m ok, and you’re ok, and the guy is in the basement or whatever.”
I let his legs slide down from my arms, making sure to support him in case he was still shaky. He held onto myshoulders, and he seemed steady enough. He looked up at me, and I saw tears in his eyes. He reached up and touched my head, and I realized the blood was still there.
I ducked my head under the water to rinse it away, saying, “It takes a lot more than bullets to kill me.”
“What does it take?” he whispered. “I thought… Fuck, Dex.”
“I don’t even know that we can die. I’ve never known a hellhound to die. So you don’t need to worry about that, ok, baby?” I reassured him. “Let’s get you clean.”
I gently soaped him up, washing his body and his hair. When I was done, he did the same for me. We both ended up slightly turned on, but we both knew that wasn’t what we needed.
I would make Toby mine later and claim him in that way, but right now, I just needed to care for him. He apparently felt the same way, because his soft hands lightly caressing my skin were almost reverent.
We were both ok. We needed to just feel each other to make sure of that.
