Chapter 2
Lucian
I race through the forest, leaping over roots and fallen logs as I make my way home from a meeting with my pack.
When we left Obsidian City in the heart of the demon realm, we knew we’d never go back.
The demon king was making moves we didn’t agree with, and we couldn’t just stand by while he ruined everything.
But crossing over to the human realm hadn’t been as simple as we thought.
For all our years alive, we’d only had our hound forms, and once we stepped through the gateway dissecting our realms, there was a separation of sorts—the man from the hound. Suddenly, we were able to shift into a form that could blend in with the humans.
We’d heard about it in passing but experiencing it was entirely different.
To some of us, the transformation was incredible, yet there were those who couldn’t stand the divide between the man and hound.
It was tough that first year, but eventually, those pack members left us.
Even now, they remain in their hound form at all times, burying the other part of themselves—the man—until they can pretend it doesn’t exist.
The rest of us stayed together and made a home here, working in our human forms, but our hounds still need time out of their cage, so we go out as a pack several times a month.
In those moments, we can almost pretend we’re back in the demon realm, racing through the wilderness of our homeland, at least for a little while.
But that wasn’t the only unexpected difference about the human realm.
Here on earth, we can no longer communicate in hound form, and our mating bonds have changed.
They’re duller here, less all-consuming.
I suspect it has to do with the separation of our souls.
One of our pack members, Harry, lost his mate before we left.
If he hadn’t come with us, I don’t think he would have survived losing her.
Here, though, that overwhelming feeling of loss isn’t as heavy.
He says the ache will never truly go away, nor will her memory, but at least here it’s a little less suffocating.
I leap over the trunk of a collapsed tree when a familiar scent floods my senses. Angel blood. My hound growls as I lower my snout to the ground—sniffing deeply—but it’s not coming from down here.
It’s on the wind.
Lifting my head, I try again, circling until I find the source.
There.
I follow the scent until I reach the edge of the forest and find two beings. They’re both human, a man and a woman, but one of them—I breathe in again—yes. One of them has angel blood flowing through their veins.
A nephilim.
Though technically nephilim are half human, half angel—which, by the scent of them, this one isn’t—their angel blood is far too diluted. I can’t tell which one holds the blood of the creatures we were taught to hate, not yet. But before the night is over, I’ll figure it out.
My hound won’t let me do anything less.
I feel him growing more feral with every whiff of tainted blood. This reaction isn’t new. Even as pups, our hounds hated angels for what they’d taken from the demons and from us. My pack and I can usually curb our savage instincts—the same instincts that had those on the other side calling us weak.
But we aren’t weak. Physically dominating another being isn’t strength. It’s being able to look at a situation and see the whole picture. It’s putting yourself in their shoes and seeing past the bullshit. It’s thinking for yourself and deciding whether or not your actions are justified.
What the demon king wanted us to do wasn’t justified, and that’s why we left. But that doesn’t mean I’ll just let this angel-blooded human go without at least doing my due diligence. My hound would never allow it.
The woman stumbles, and like some shit out of a romantic comedy, the guy catches her. When he drops his lips to hers, my hound snarls, though the couple on the side of the road don’t hear. The kiss deepens, and the girl laughs, but then she says his name.
“Brad.”
There’s no affection or lust in her tone. Only pain.
Brad doesn’t seem to notice. “I love it when you say my name, baby,” he says before kissing her again.
This kiss isn’t like the last one. Something between them has shifted, and I watch in confusion as the woman tries to push him away without success.
Then I smell blood.
“You bitch!” Brad screeches, letting go of the girl so fast, the momentum has her tipping backward. Her arms flail about, blonde hair suspended in the air, as the small bag in her hand smacks Brad in the face before she falls down into the ditch.
I retreat into the forest just a little, not wanting to be seen but wholly unable to look away from the scene playing out in front of me.
Which one of you has the angel blood?
Part of me hopes it’s Brad, because the guy seems like a total asshole. It would be no stain on my conscience to rid the world of him.
The girl moves slowly, but I know the moment she hears Brad coming down the ditch. She freezes for just a second, and then she moves.
Getting to her feet, she races into the forest. Despite her wet and muddy clothes and the pain I sense emanating from her even from my spot hidden in the forest, she’s quick.
Too quick for me to get a good look at her.
She runs right past me without realizing there are two predators in these woods.
I lope forward to follow her and step directly into the billowing cloud of her scent.
It’s her.
She’s the one with the angel blood.
I expect my hound to snarl and growl and leap toward her, but all he does is sniff the air again. Her sweet aroma fills our senses, and for some reason, he likes her scent. A lot.
Maybe this is what she does—lures shitty men into the woods to make them pay.
Usually I wouldn’t like it, but from what I can sense, this guy deserves to be put in his place.
We should go. We’ll come back in the morning and track her scent, I tell my hound through the mental bond we share, or at least I try to. He’s got me blocked.
What the hell has gotten into him?
Footsteps approach as Brad follows the nephilim through the forest. He reeks of blood and rage, which only pisses my hound off and finally gets him moving—except he’s not taking us home.
He’s following them.
What has you so invested in this?
My hound ignores me, focusing instead on moving silently through the forest, not wanting our prey to spot us yet.
I give up on trying to reach him and let my thoughts wander to the pair we’re tracking through the woods.
Does Brad know what she is? Is that why he’s so angry and clearly wants to hurt her?
Until my hound removes the block, he can’t hear me and I can’t hear him.
We can only sense each other’s feelings.
Since coming to the human realm, he’s never kicked me out and taken control like this before, even when we’ve disagreed.
It’s always been a mutual discussion between equal parties.
Hell, usually I’m the level-headed one who has to calm him down. What has him so riled up tonight?
Maybe I’m not letting him out enough and he’s only taking it out on me, or maybe he just misses the hunt. Either way, I’m stuck as the silent bystander until he lets me out of my cage. I could probably fight him to get free, but I’m interested to see where this goes.
We catch up to the pair without getting caught. The girl is on her knees, bleeding from her forehead, while the guy moves closer to her, unbuckling his belt. “You stupid fucking bitch.” He sneers as he licks the wound on his bottom lip. “You’ll pay for this.”
My hound releases a snarl that vibrates through our skull as he leaps into the air, landing between Brad and the girl whose blood should make him destructive instead of protective.
What the hell are you doing? I try again, but my hound is still blocking our connection.
We stalk closer to Brad. His hands have gone still, eyes wide. They grow even wider as fire erupts from our fur, along with a growl so deep it makes the weak male in front of us piss himself.
Then we pounce.