To the Dogs

Chapter Twenty-Two

Four days passed with nothing happening. We went out to eat at least one meal every day, but no one approached us. I was getting to know the hounds even better, and the more I learned about them, the more certain I was that Silas was the liar. These guys were just too honest. Their expressions, down to the micro twitches, were perfect. No one can control micro-expressions. Not that I'm an expert, but I once took a class in reading faces. I thought it would magnify my instincts and help me be a better lawyer. I never knew I'd need that training to figure out which supernatural being was deceiving me.

And then one evening, an alarm went off. It was blaring. I thought it was a security alarm. It wasn't. We were in the living room, watching “Shrinking” on TV, and the guys reacted too calmly for it to be a security issue. Gage just got up and hit a panel on the wall.

“Duty calls,” Gideon said as he and Garret got up as well.

“That's . . . that's a ghost alarm?” I asked.

“Hades is summoning us,” Garret said. “We'll be back in a few. Just relax. It's probably just a regular escaped soul.”

“A regular escaped soul,” I murmured as I watched them jog up the stairs. “Regular as opposed to Michael. Holy shit. They really are telling the truth.” Then I shook my head. “No. Just because an alarm went off and they're being summoned, it doesn't mean that they're who they say they are.”

I sighed and leaned back against the couch. I was trying to be as unbiased about this as possible, but I knew I was looking for reasons to believe the hounds. They were just so incredible—every woman's dream guy times three. Their actions demonstrated genuine warmth and affection. After getting over my initial reservations about being taken care of, I realized how wonderful it was. Even as a child, I hadn't felt this well-looked-after. This secure. Nothing felt like mine when I was little. I realized early on that everything given could be just as easily taken away. Clothes, food, a home—all of it was transitory. Now, it felt as if I was getting a proper childhood. Just as I thought, that birthday party had been for more than them. It had been a fresh start for me too. The birth of a new life.

Yes, there were adult issues at work that complicated things and might have influenced me. We were attracted to each other, and I was still learning about the implications of being with them. If I was even their mate. But because nothing was certain about our relationship, nothing sexual had happened between me and any of them. Nothing beyond light touching and hugs. So, it was still innocent.

That being said, the unsettled state of things ruined my feeling of security a little. But not a lot. Being with them made me realize I could move on from Jake. Even if I wasn't their mate—and let's face it, I probably wasn't—I felt strong enough to love again. And I'd make sure he was a normal man. No ghosts, no gods, and no Hounds of Hades.

“We'll be back soon,” Garret called as the hounds raced down the stairs and out the front door.

“Just a soul retrieval,” Gage added. “Don't go anywhere, Indie, okay?”

“Okay,” I said.

Seconds later, I heard an engine turn over. I got up and went to the front window to see the hounds drive off in Garret's pickup truck. I stayed like that, just staring out the window like a forlorn puppy for a while. And then it occurred to me that I was alone. In their house.

It was the perfect time to go snooping.

Normally, I was not a snooper. If you went looking, you'd find something—usually something terrible. And people deserve to have secrets, even from significant others. But I wasn't the hounds' mate, might never be, and I needed to know their secrets. I needed to know especially if I was their mate.

So, I left the living room and went upstairs. I knew where I wanted to begin my search.

The hounds shared an office on the second floor. They didn't keep it locked, but they had never invited me in either. With us spending most of our time together, they didn't need to lock anything. Either they'd forgotten to lock the office before leaving or they trusted me. The latter gave me a twinge of guilt. But not enough to stop me.

I opened the door and paused on the threshold, waiting for an alarm to sound. Nothing came. Or maybe it was silent. Maybe they'd already received a notification of the breach.

“Oh, well. Damage done.” I stepped inside and flipped the light switch.

A line of overhead fixtures came on—frosted glass softening the light. The room below didn't go with the antique lighting. A very modern, very long desk supported a row of monitors with three keyboards placed before them. A container of pens, scissors, and the like stood off to one side, but nothing else cluttered the desk. Three leather executive chairs sat behind the desk. In front of it were three more chairs gathered around a circular table. It looked as if their mate wasn't to be included here. To the side of the table was one of those dry-erase boards you see in television cop shows.

I went right to the board, shaking my head at the ease of this. I didn't even have to root around in drawers—they had it all on display for me. Photographs of Silas, Jake, and me dominated the board. My jaw fell when I saw one of Jake and me in my car, my expression strained while I hunched in the passenger seat. I was pretty sure that had been the day we arrived. Then there were more of Jake with members of the Host. Some were on the street, some inside, but all showed Jake with a kind expression on his face that I instantly saw through. Either Michael had been in control, or Jake had known he was leading those people into a horrible situation. There was a brittleness around his eyes that screamed “liar.”

“Jake,” I whispered. I felt awful about leaving him behind. But what else could I have done? He was housing the entity that attacked me. Until Michael was gone, I couldn't be with Jake. “Oh, who am I kidding? I'll never be with him again. It's over.”

Saying those words aloud was anticlimactic. I'd been prepared to lose Jake for a long time, and I think I decided the moment he got aggressive with me that it was over. It wasn't even Michael. It was Jake. The way he had grabbed me and tried to “convince” me to have sex with him. Would he have raped me? Absolutely not. But I'd seen a part of Jake that I didn't know existed. And I did not like it.

I wasn't a woman into violent men or even forceful men. I liked kindness. I appreciated men who appreciated others. Especially with men like the hounds, it was attractive. Their power was immense, but they wielded it with restraint and consideration. They never made me feel weak, even when they were taking care of me.

“At least, they haven't so far,” I murmured as I moved on to look over the blueprints for Silas's log palace. “Damn. They're thorough.”

Besides the blueprints, there were shots of the neighborhood and sticky notes all over to label things. Nothing contradicted what they told me. But nothing corroborated it, either. They were watching Silas and the Host, just as they said, but that didn't mean they weren't demons. I turned away from the board and scowled at the desk. I'd have to do some digging after all.

I looked through the drawers and found your standard office stuff—notepads, packs of pens, and a stapler. Nothing unusual. Then I sat down and pulled open one of the deeper drawers. I found some hanging files, but all they had in them were maps of Montana and some paperwork for the house. Oh, and an account book. I nearly shrieked when I saw how much money they had in the bank. I would never protest them paying for something again.

“What's this?” I had brushed against something when I put the bank book back. I moved things aside to see a button. “How very James Bond.” I pushed the button.

A whirring came from behind me. I spun in my chair just in time to see a wall panel slide over. Again, my jaw fell. Deeper this time. I just sat and stared for a few moments. Then I picked up my jaw and stood up.

“James Bond has nothing on you three,” I murmured as I peered at the weapons that hung in the recessed space.

On a white pegboard, guns hung on specialty hooks, but there were also swords and things I didn't recognize. Medieval things. Or maybe older than that. Shit, maybe they weren’t even Earth-made.

My hand hovered over a strange, bladed weapon with a chain attached. “Did you come from the Underworld?”

It didn't respond—thank all that's holy. Although, I wouldn't have been too surprised if it had responded. A talking weapon fit right into my crazy life.

A cabinet ran the length of the space below the hanging weapons. I opened drawers to find daggers laid out in rows, ammunition in boxes, and grenades in hard plastic cases. Fucking grenades. I closed the grenade case I'd opened, then the drawers, went back to the desk, and pushed the button again. The panel closed.

I stared at the wall. Then I fell into a chair. This did not go with their story. Why would the Hounds of Hades need an arsenal like that if they only dealt with souls? They told me that they couldn’t collect souls in corporeal form, so I assumed guns wouldn't work on souls. And why would they need to harm a ghost anyway? They were only supposed to retrieve them. As far as their other duties—cleansing ghost goo or whatever—those didn't require weaponry either. Hell, with their super puppy strength, weapons were just frosting. This was overkill. Perhaps literally.

“Unless they just like to collect weapons,” I whispered. Then I rolled my eyes. “No one collects guns and ammunition to just look at them. And why would a collector have live grenades?” I scowled. “Maybe they aren't live. Maybe . . . maybe I'm coming up with excuses.” I smacked my head against the back of the chair. “Fuck! Why do they have this shit?”

Then I heard the truck pull up.

“Fuck!” I jumped up and raced to the door to turn off the light.

Luckily, the office windows overlooked the side yard, and the curtains were closed, so the guys shouldn't have noticed. Still, my heart raced as I closed the office door and ran back downstairs to the living room, the carpet runner dampening my hasty footsteps. I had left the TV on. Harrison Ford was scowling at someone again—damn, it was hard to see him so old—and I focused on the dialogue in case they questioned me.

“As if they're going to question me,” I muttered.

The front door opened.

“Hey,” Garret said as he came into the living room.

“Hey.” I paused the show. “How did it go?”

“Smoothly. No problems.”

“Good.”

“Nachos?” Gage asked as he headed toward the back of the house.

“Yup!” Garret called after him.

Gideon went to help.

“So, what we miss?” Garret asked as he sat down on the couch beside me.

Holy shit, I was getting quizzed. “Oh, let's see. Uh, Paul is pissed off because—”

“That's okay,” Garret interrupted with a chuckle. “I think I want to watch it.”

“Oh, let's find where you left off.” I hit the back button. “I think we were here when you had to go.”

Thank goodness I had let the show run while I was snooping. Going back only a few frames would have raised some serious red flags.

“You sure?” Garret asked and slung an arm along the back of the couch.

“Yeah, no biggie. This is a funny show, and I can use all the laughter I can get.” In my mind, I added, And I'd like to know what happened too.

Garret stroked my hair while I had that guilty thought, and I flinched.

“Sorry.” He jerked his hand back.

“No, it's all right. You just startled me.”

I swallowed a lump in my throat, pushing down the words that almost bubbled out. I had grown so comfortable with them that I wanted to ask them about the weapons. But that would mean confessing to snooping and not trusting them. When they had obviously come to trust me. And I just betrayed that trust. Shit. Fuck. Shit. I felt like an asshole.

“Indie.”

I looked over at Garret.

“You're nervous.”

Oh, fuck. “No, I'm fine.”

He rolled his eyes. “It's the mission, isn't it? Maybe we should have taken you with us.”

I blinked. “You'd do that?”

“Well, you'd have to stay in the truck, but at least then you could see what we do here.”

“She is not coming with us on a mission,” Gage said as he came into the room with a platter of nachos.

Gideon came in behind him with a six-pack of hard cider. He handed me a bottle before he took one for himself and set the rest on the coffee table. Gage set the nachos down and glared at Garret.

“She'd be perfectly safe,” Garret said.

“What if a soul jumped into her while we were busy chasing it—too far away for her to be under our protection?”

“Then we'd extricate it,” Gideon said. “But souls don't get away from us.”

“Only Michael,” Garret murmured.

“It would really help if I could see you retrieve a soul,” I said.

Gage stared at me, then he sighed. “Fine. The next run.”

“Thank you,” I said, a tremendous relief surging through me. The mere fact that they were going to take me with them made me believe them. It's not as if they could fake taking a soul to the Underworld. “Uh, I'd like to see your hound forms too.”

“We don't need to leave the house for that,” Garret said, then shoved a nacho into his mouth.

I looked from him to the other two.

“Not now,” Gage said. “I'm wiped out.”

“He did the retrieval tonight,” Gideon said. “Garret and I just herded.”

“Ah.”

“But I could shift,” Garret offered. “You only need to see one of us. We look similar.”

“Okay,” I whispered. My hands started to tremble, so I put the bottle of cider down.

“You don't have to be scared,” Garret said as he got up. “I'm still me in hound form. I won't attack you or anything like that.”

Gage took his place on the couch with a smirk at Garret.

“I'm not,” I said. “Go ahead.”

“Well, I've got to get naked.”

“Oh. Uh.” I cleared my throat and looked away.

Garret laughed. “I'm not shy. But if you prefer it, I can change in the other room.”

“No, it's fine. Go ahead.”

God help me, but I stared back at Garret in a sort of challenging way. He accepted that challenge. And he took his time. First, he kicked off his boots. Next, he yanked his T-shirt over his head. Then his hands went to his jeans.

“Oh, for fuck's sake, are you a stripper now?” Gage drawled. “Just get to it.”

“Don't ruin this for me,” Garret said. “It's the first time I'm going to be naked in front of her.”

It wasn't ruined for me. I continued to take in every dip and bulge of Garret's amazing body while he argued with Gage. So far, he hadn't shown me more than I saw when they worked out. But he was undoing his fly now. My mouth went dry. He had boxers on beneath. They got pushed down with the jeans, but clung to his . . . oh, my. He was hard.

My stare popped up to Garret's face and found him grinning. I don't know what came over me, but I grinned back. That made him smile even wider. And then he pushed his boxers down. And I looked at what was revealed.

Not just looked. I stared at the most beautiful piece of male flesh I'd ever seen. Garret was manscaped, his dark curls clipped short, and the sides shaved clean. Out of that nest, a thick length of rock-hard flesh rose, topped by a plump, pink head. One look and I knew it would be a perfect fit. I could almost feel it inside me.

“Son of a bitch,” Gage growled, then took a deep swig from his bottle.

“Yup, score one for Garret. Indie likey,” Gideon said and laughed.

I glanced at the men and when I looked back, Garret was crouched, hiding the goods. I almost protested, but then he went blurry. I blinked, thinking it was my vision, but Garret only blurred more. He became a haze that grew and bulged into a form with four legs. The blur tightened and focused. I gasped as it came together like a view through binoculars.

A massive dog stood before me. No, a hound. Its fur was glossy gray, its paws as big as my head, and when it grinned at me, it displayed a set of teeth sharp enough to take a hand off. It looked a little wolfish, but beyond its size, there was nothing hellish about it. Scary, yes, but not paranormal.

And then the dog went transparent.

“Holy shit!” I exclaimed and jerked forward.

Garret vanished altogether, and I jumped up. I don't know what I intended to do. I suppose it was an automatic reaction.

Then Garret reappeared—back in his human body.

“Dear God,” I whispered. I was too shocked to ogle him. I just stared at his face.

“Are you all right, Indie?” Garret asked.

“Just get dressed, asshole,” Gage said as he stood up and put an arm around me. “Sit down, Indie. Come on, darling girl. Sit down. It's okay. You're okay. He's still Garret. Nothing has changed.”

I sat down and looked at Gage. He handed me my cider.

“I'm fine,” I said and took a sip. “Really. I'm fine. I, uh, wow.”

My mind raced, but it kept circling back to the same thought—they weren't monsters. Silas had made me think that as soon as I saw them in their other forms, I'd be terrified and convinced that they were demons. But I was neither of those things. They were just dogs. No horns or scales. Nothing monstrous beyond their size. And that felt right to me. If they were paranormal guard dogs, they didn't need horns and glowing eyes or fire coming out of their noses. It also explained why they'd need weapons. If they had to defend themselves against people like Silas, who had supernatural strength to match theirs, they'd need more than teeth and claws. Especially if they wanted to stay in their human bodies to fight. Yes, I was feeling good about Garret's dog form. It was pure animal, but he was still in there. And just seeing it made me certain it was his second form, not his main body. For one thing, he hadn't lingered in it.

“I'm good,” I said. “Thank you, Garret. That really helped. Now I don't have to wonder anymore.”

Garret looked up from fastening his jeans. “You're welcome, Indigo Darling. I enjoyed it too.”

“Ugh! Sit down, Magic Mike!” Gideon threw a pillow at Garret. “Show's over.”

I burst out laughing and that put the men at ease enough to join me. Thank goodness. Maybe I could trust them now.