Chapter 24
Twenty-Four
Nathan
The fear filling Nathan as Hunter and the pack fought those horrific creatures was like an infection, a chilling cold spreading through his entire body.
Tied to the altar, all he could do was listen to the grunts and groans of battle.
When Hunter burst into the nave of the church, his muscles relaxed for the first time since Bill had kidnapped him.
Despite not being able to resist tweaking Hunter with his comment, relief surged through his body. Nathan thrilled at the sight of Hunter rushing toward him.
It had been more than a week since Nathan had seen his mate. He may be tied to an altar, but his skin tingled and his cock hardened at the vision of his hellhound. Hunter’s long muscles rippled as he ran, the fire in his eyes burning bright as he rushed toward Nathan.
“It worked,” Nathan said as his mate approached him. “You found me.”
“I did.” Hunter’s voice was filled with rage and need, and the sound of it activated every muscle in Nathan’s body. This man, this demon, was his.
“Why are you naked, Hunt—”
The hellhound’s lips were on him before he could finish the sentence.
This kiss was different. Before, the hunger had been there, the lust and need, the intangible draw between them. This, though, had something new. A sense of rightness. He and Hunter were mates. They were meant for each other.
Nathan had been foolish to keep them apart. It had been logical, but foolish. Driven by lofty goals, by ideals, maybe, he hadn’t seen the truth of just how deep their Heaven-blessed connection had been. And how absolutely silly some of what he believed really was.
As they kissed, the mate bond clicked back into place. Throughout the abandoned church, the air shimmered, revealing a transparent dome surrounding them. With a bell-like crack, it shattered like glass, falling to the floor and disintegrating into thin air.
Nathan’s eyes widened at the sound, and Hunter pulled back. Seeing Nathan’s expression, he smiled.
“The magic keeping our connection closed couldn’t survive our being reunited.”
Nathan hummed, then looked his mate up and down. Those long, sinewy muscles, those abs, that perfect dick.
God, that dick.
“You didn’t tell me why you’re naked.” Nathan licked his lips lasciviously. “Did you find another priest to replace me?”
Before Hunter could reply, another voice rang out from the back of the church. Nathan recognized it as Ammon’s.
“The only other priest Hunter has been around is this asshole.”
The pack leader strode in, tugging on Father McDonagh’s bound hands and forcing the priest toward the altar.
“Untie me.” Nathan locked eyes with Hunter. Right. Now.
Alright, my mate.
Shifting one of his fingers into a single sharp claw, Hunter sliced through the ropes, sending the ends flying in all directions. Freed, Nathan swung himself into a sitting position and stepped off the altar.
Walking toward Father McDonagh, Nathan smiled as terror blossomed on the old priest’s face.
“Please, it wasn’t my fault, it was all Brother Bill, I—”
“You procured victims for him, Sean.” Nathan was surprised to find not an ounce of fear or doubt inside himself. He was certain of what he needed to do. “How many people lost their chance of salvation because of your greed? A hundred? More?”
Father McDonagh reddened like a half-ripe apple, shaking as Nathan approached.
“No, no, no, I promise—”
“It’s too late.”
And with one swift motion, Nathan slipped the screwdriver from his sleeve where he’d tucked it away, palming it and gripping tight.
He raised it up and, with every ounce of strength he had—which, now mated to a hellhound, was considerable—he drove it through Father McDonagh’s eye and into his brain.
The scream the man let out would have been terrifying, once. But Nathan was beyond such things. He’d seen true evil, and this man was part of it. Neither fear nor guilt was required.
Instead, what filled his chest was satisfaction. Maybe it was the bad influence of a hellhound mate rubbing off. Maybe it was the utter darkness of the man’s soul. Or maybe Nathan was just unwilling to follow the rules of a faith that had produced these abusers.
Whatever it was, the sense of accomplishment, of rightness, radiated through him.
That’s when he recognized it. It was the anger. The white-hot rage that had lived with him since his mother’s death had been transformed, transmuted into certainty. This was what it was to be a servant of Heaven.
Nathan was a hellhound’s mate. He was an instrument of Judgment. Father McDonagh was his first, but he would not be the last.
A second or two later, the ex-pastor of St. Stephen’s collapsed to the floor and, after seizing for a few moments, went still.
“That was great.” Nathan grinned and took in the people now standing in the abandoned church. His naked mate, Ammon, Eli, and…who was that?
“No, that was not great. I was supposed to kill him!”
The voice—rough and filled with righteous fury—emanated from a man who couldn’t have been more than 5’5”. There was something ridiculous about this little guy shouting about revenge, although that was mitigated by the terrifying bloodthirstiness evident on his face.
Hunter placed a hand on Nathan’s shoulder, and the touch was like a soothing balm to his soul.
“Nathan, this is Rageball. We found him bound in the rectory basement.”
He furrowed his brows at his mate’s ridiculous words. “What kind of name—”
“It’s what people call me, so shut the fuck up.”
Nathan frowned a little at the short man’s vehemence, but ultimately decided there was something charming about Rageball’s intensity.
“Where is the Forbidden One?” Ammon asked, his question bringing everything back into focus.
“Bill? He’s gone. He…I don’t know how, but he escaped. One minute he was preparing to do whatever he was going to do to me, and the next he abandoned his plans and was scratching symbols out on the floor. He disappeared in a flash of light. Literally.”
Hunter sucked in an audible breath, and Nathan glanced at his face, concerned by the worry he found there.
“He shouldn’t have that kind of power. No human should. To have that in his back pocket for an emergency means…”
“It means the number of souls he’s tortured and destroyed is much higher than we expected,” Ammon said, finishing Hunter’s thought.
“He’s a fanatic.” Nathan glanced down at the now lifeless body of Father McDonagh.
“This one was just an evil asshole, the same as so many horrible men. Brother Bill, though, is loyal. I’m not sure to whom.
The bishop’s involved, but he’s not the one pulling the strings.
All I know is that Bill believes he is serving his God. And that Bill isn’t his real name.”
Glancing between Ammon and Eli, Nathan took in the demeanor of the hellhounds, which was marked by anger and worry. He didn’t blame them. He wouldn’t underestimate the Franciscan—the man had taken him prisoner, after all. Bill was capable of evil, no question.
But when he considered Hunter, Nathan’s mind left all that behind.
“Everyone out.” Nathan didn’t look at the others as he spoke, holding his mate with his gaze. “Hunter and I have some catching up to do.”
There was an awkward shuffle as they filed out, before Eli, of all people, broke the silence.
“What should we do with the dead priest?”
“Leave him.” A thrill ran up Nathan’s spine as he spoke the words. “Let him watch.”
Hunter shot him a lascivious grin, and pride bloomed in Nathan’s chest. He was responsible for this man’s, this hellhound’s, desire. And that desire was substantial. He couldn’t miss it, considering Hunter was naked.
Not giving him a second to think, Nathan scrambled on top of the altar where he’d been bound just a few minutes earlier. He stripped his clothes off, gooseflesh appearing all over him as the cold air hit his skin.
This hellhound would never forget him, never even consider another person. Nathan was going to make sure of it. Once naked, he stuck his ass up in the air, presenting his desperate, pulsing hole for his mate.
Warm air brushed over his entrance, making Nathan shudder with anticipation. His hellhound was everything he’d ever wanted: playful, sexy, voracious. Perfection.
“Do you want to fuck me, little priest?”
There was a vulnerability to the question that cut Nathan to the quick. Hunter wanted to bottom? Nathan was vers, but he’d never even considered the possibility.
“Yes,” he whispered, flipping over into a sitting position, his cock pointing up toward his belly button. “Tell me what you need.”
Hunter slid up onto the altar, lying on his back and putting every inch of his lean, muscular body on display. How did Nathan get so lucky?
With his dick bobbing in the open air, Hunter tucked his legs back to his chest, giving easy access to that welcoming pucker.
If Nathan thought Hunter was beautiful before, now he was overwhelming. His eyes focused like searchlights on Nathan, and Nathan’s stomach flipped with how intimate it was.
Then a long, thin, prehensile tail snaked its way from behind Hunter.
“What is that?!”
“That is my tail, mate. It can do tricks.” With that, the tip of it traveled across Nathan’s chest, only stopping long enough to tweak his nipple. Once he’d recovered from the tremors that had caused, an unexpected realization hit him. The tail had been slick.
It made its way down to Hunter’s entrance, opening him up more effectively than fingers ever could.
Even as Hunter stretched his hole out, moaning as he slowly but surely prepped himself, Nathan wondered at the hellhound. He would give this creature anything he wanted. There was nothing to hold back now, nothing to hide or secure.
“Fuck me now, Nathan,” Hunter expressed through clenched teeth. “I’m ready. Let’s defile this church, priest of Hell.”
The words unlocked something inside Nathan; the need for decorum or niceties was long gone. He was on overdrive, and as he pulled closer, he knew the hellhound was ready as well; his tail clearing a path for him.
As he sank into the hellhound, the words escaped from Nathan’s lips, coming unbidden, a culmination of moments, of danger, of kindness. It was almost as though it would hurt not to say them.
“I love you.”
Hunter moaned and pressed back against Nathan’s cock, bringing it further into himself. The hellhound was soft and warm inside, and Nathan worried he would come immediately. He took several deep breaths, wrenching himself back from the edge of the cliff he teetered over.
“Yes, my mate. Fuck me. Prove your love for a demon.”
The words were like an elastic band snapping, and Nathan could no longer hold himself back. The needy aggression took over, and Nathan drove himself into Hunter over and again. He’d never topped before, but from the sounds coming out of his hellhound, he was doing well.
His brain was so clouded with lust that Nathan didn’t register the sensations at first. Something wet and fuzzy was tickling at his hole. More than tickling. Pressing in, invading him.
“Tail!” Nathan gasped, although he didn’t stop his thrusting, unwilling to stop the intensity building in him.
“Yes. You are mine, priest. You belong to me. You worship me. Look around you.”
Some part of his brain registered Hunter’s words, and he glanced around the abandoned church, still not letting up on his brutal pace.
What he saw there almost made him laugh, besides turning him on even more. On one side of the altar was the cross, and the figure of the savior hanging there, staring down in sorrow. Or maybe it wasn’t sorrow. What did that strange smile mean? Was it a benediction?
On the other side of the altar was Father McDonagh, lying on his side, his dead eyes open and pointed right at them.
Nathan should have been horrified. This was sacrilege. It was blasphemy of the highest order.
But he wasn’t. No, this was perfect.
“Watch, then.” Hunter’s tail drove further into his ass, causing Nathan’s voice to break as he said the words. “This is my catechism now. My vigil. My Gospel.”
The words ripped out of Nathan’s voice as he poured himself into Hunter, gripping his hellhound’s hips as he slammed into him. Everything he’d said was true. His worship of this demon, of his body and his soul, that was his devotion. There was no going back.
Nathan collapsed on top of Hunter, and as their skin came into contact, he realized his mate had come as well, his stomach covered with his salty, sticky release.
As Hunter’s arms wrapped around his back, the hellhound teased at Hunter’s mating mark with his tongue, setting off another avalanche of tremors through his body.
“Tell me you love me, you dickhead,” Nathan whispered into his mate’s ear.
“I love you,” Hunter answered, locking him into place as if he’d never allow the priest to leave. “But who cares if I love you? You are mine. That’s what’s important. You are my mate. There’s no escape now. Your eternity belongs to me.”