Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Fender
I stepped back, deeper into the shadows as Tempest walked out of the clinic, smiling and waving goodbye to several of her coworkers.
The female smiled a lot. Even when she shouldn’t, like when I’d scented her fear.
The fear didn’t come as often now, but when I first came to her at the clinic, the room had been bitter from it.
I didn’t like that. The animal in me seriously hadn’t fucking liked it.
I’d done everything I could to put her at ease.
I’d kept my voice low, avoided making eye contact, and sat lower in my seat so as not to overwhelm her with my size.
It had been working. I’d barely caught scent of fear at all today.
The sound of her voice carried over to me. She was humming as she walked. I shook my head, my lips curling up. It was like sunshine surrounded her, even on a cloudy day like today. Even with the city taken low by the virus, she found a reason to smile.
The female was like no one I’d ever encountered. She was also naive to a dangerous degree, awkward, and just plain odd at times. I was as emotionally stunted as most hounds, but the shit she said and did, it was like she’d been plonked on the face of the earth fully grown and fucking clueless.
For that reason, I’d decided to watch out for her.
There was also a possessiveness, a protectiveness toward her that the beast refused to let me ignore.
Since my tangle with the Vysan and the loss of my lower leg, she’d become the only person I really spoke to about it.
I’d been confused by the foreign feelings that had developed since it happened.
I was angry, really fucking angry, but that wasn’t all I felt.
Hounds had limited emotions. Lucifer created us to feel only lust, anger, and loyalty, but recently there were other things.
Things I couldn’t put a name to had surfaced, and I was struggling to get my head around it all.
In simple terms, losing my leg had fucked me up.
This shit was hard, harder than I thought it would be, and Tempest had helped me, was the only one who seemed to be able to help me.
I was just another one of her patients, though, so despite this extreme urge to protect her, I was trying really hard not to get it twisted.
This thing drawing me to her was just a heightened sense of loyalty, nothing more.
Okay, fine, I liked how sweet and goofy she was.
I really liked the way she smelled and that she was built.
Tempest was all softness, sweet curved belly, big tits, and round ass.
She also had this thick chestnut hair I was desperate to touch.
Hounds were tactile, and I was desperate to know how those strands felt sliding between my fingers.
Her wide green eyes managed to broadcast just how innocent she was, and the female blushed easily.
She had these dimples in her cheeks and she suited the hell out of them.
Sure, I thought the female was stunning, and she made my dick hard every time I was around her, and yeah, I wanted to fuck her, badly, but that was a me problem.
Admittedly, having her ask about my “sex life” today, while she blushed, then got close enough to use her “touch therapy” on me, hadn’t helped the situation, not when I was fascinated by the sparkly shit she put on her face or how that lipstick made her full lips even fuller, and in turn got me wondering how those lips would taste during a make-out session—but it was fine. I had my shit under control.
I was only watching her, following her, because she needed protection. That’s all.
She strode down the street, stopping by the bus stop, because despite what she said, the female did not own a car. Why she said she did, I wasn’t sure, but now I wanted to see what she’d do, because she’d tried really hard to convince me of it.
Again, the female was fucking odd. But intriguing.
The beast sat up straight, pushing to the surface when I was with her.
The animal in me wanted to get closer, to bury my nose in her brown hair and breathe her deeper into my lungs.
I wanted to lick her and taste her smooth-looking skin.
The beast wanted to know how all that softness would feel and taste and smell up close and personal.
The streets were empty because of the virus, and hardly anyone was using public transport right now. The services had been cut in half. When the bus finally rolled up, Temp got in, smiling and greeting the bus driver as well as the only other passenger.
Shaking my head, I strode to my bike, swung on and started the engine. The female was like Bambi dropped into a lion’s den. I couldn’t trust her to take care of herself. If I didn’t watch out for her, she was going to get herself hurt or worse.
My phone vibrated in my pocket. I checked the screen.
War: Got a job for you
I looked up at the bus as it pulled away. Shit. Surely, she couldn’t get into too much trouble between here and her place. I wanted to follow her, but War was my alpha. I’d text or call her with some made-up bullshit and make sure she was okay in a few, that would have to do.
Fender: On my way
When I walked into the clubhouse twenty minutes later, Warrick and Jagger were at one of the tall tables, nursing beers.
Our alpha jerked up his chin when he saw me. “Brother.”
I leaned against the table beside Jag. “What’s up?”
War slid a beer my way. “We got some intel.”
I swallowed down a few mouthfuls.
“Turns out there are some weapons that could be really fucking useful. Thought you could hunt them down.”
My leg had started aching, and I leaned heavier on the table to take some weight off it. “What kind of weapons?”
“Angel killers,” War said.
“Hell-forged?”
“Yeah. An arsenal of them.”
We’d recently discovered that Uriel, one of the archangels, had taken over upstairs.
No one had seen the others in his ranks for a while, but most importantly, Michael, the archangel who usually kept things running smoothly and the most level-headed of his kind, had vanished.
We assumed Uriel either had control of the lesser angels, or they were on board with his plans, because he wasn’t doing this alone.
It had been Uriel who had freed Seraphina, a vindictive, power-hungry angel, a while back so that she could torture Roxy and Lothar for intel on Lucifer.
She’d been killed, but it had been a close thing.
But worst of all, we now knew for sure that Uriel wanted to enact the forgotten prophecy, changing the course we were on, which meant some really bad shit was about to go down if we didn’t stop him. All that had happened and now he’d gone quiet, but we knew it wouldn’t be for long.
We had to prepare for the worst, and an arsenal of angel-killing weapons would definitely be useful. Hell-forged weapons took time to make, and not all angels were created equal. Some were harder to kill than others. “Can they take out archangels?”
“These aren’t just any Hell-forged weapons,” War said. “The iron is from Hell’s core and forged in Tregon’s fire, so yeah, archangels.”
“Fuck.” Tregon was a fire-breathing dragon-like creature that resided in the deepest pit in Hell.
He’d been there for thousands of years. He was left alone, guarded by an ancient and powerful demon, Garan, because no one but him had ever ventured into that creature’s territory and survived.
Weapons like that would be a game changer. “Where are they?”
“That’s still unknown. They were removed from Hell a long time ago, though.
Willow read about their existence in some old texts.
Mags spoke to Agatheena to see if she’d heard about them, and the crone verified their existence.
That’s all we know, and since you’re still healing and this would take some research, I thought it might be something you could help with. ”
Since I was broken and nowhere near the warrior I’d been and only good for shuffling papers is what he meant. I got it. I was a fucking liability right now, at least until I got my pain sorted and my head straight, and my brothers knew it. “I’ll do what I can.”
War gripped my shoulder. “Appreciate it, brother.”
“How was the session with Tempest today?” Jag asked.
Thinking about her made me grin, despite myself. “As confusing as the female herself.”
War took in my expression. “And you like that?”
“Today she asked about my sex life,” I said and chuckled.
Jag huffed a laugh. “Sex life? Like she wanted to know who you’re fucking? What does that have to do with your leg?”
I shrugged, not wanting to go into the finer details of our session, but I knew they’d get a kick out of it and it helped wipe away the pitying looks that had crept across their faces. “No idea.”
War chuckled. “You like this female?”
I shrugged, playing it down. “I’d like her under me, but not sure she’d fuck with a patient,” I said, then frowned because I realized I didn’t like talking about her like that, even if we were just talking shit like we usually did. A restless feeling hit me. Where was she now? Was she being safe?
“And you guys think we gossip,” Willow said as she stopped beside her mate, Violet in her arms. The pup reached for her father instantly.
War grinned as he took her, cradling his tiny daughter to his chest, and pressed his nose to her head, breathing her in before looking down at his mate. “We’re not gossiping, we’re helping Fender out with his sex life.”
Jagger almost spat out his beer. “Yeah, our brother is in need of some female companionship and—”
I shoved him with a growl. “As soon as I’m fighting fit, yours will be the first ass I’m kicking.”
Jag smirked. “Looking forward to it.”