Hope. It was hope that was behind the stubbornness, the need to believe that everything was going to go back to normal. And much as he wished it didn’t have to be so, hope was a luxury he couldn’t let his mate be fooled by.
“The fire service can’t help with this,” he began, and Sheena spun out of his arms.
“What are you talking about? It’s in the name. Fire. Which there’s a shit ton of here, if you hadn’t noticed!”
“It’s not the most dangerous thing here.” She raised her chin, defiance on every inch of her face, as he bulled onwards. “You know it’s true. You sensed something else, didn’t you? Something you won’t let yourself believe is real.”
Uncertainty cracked the edge of her expression. “N-no…”
Her face was wearing the same tense mask Fleance had seen on so many other people before. Adrift in uncertainty, she was searching for something, anything, to cling to. She’d mistrust the proof of her own eyes and ears to convince herself that everything was fine.
That’s what hellhound magic did best.
His hellhound rose up inside him. Parker was here. Which meant Sheena wasn’t safe. He’d only met her a handful of minutes ago and he was already failing at keeping her from harm.
His hellhound snarled. I won’t let him hurt her!
At last, Fleance thought. A good use for his hellhound’s frustrated rage. He let its fire build inside him, a fierce heat next to the shining light of his connection to Sheena.
He would get Sheena out of here. Then he’d come back and find Parker, and—
Suddenly, Sheena jerked away from him, her eyes wide.
She raised one hand and pointed at his face. “Your eyes,” she began, horror dawning in her own eyes. “There’s smoke coming out from your glasses. I thought I was imagining things before. But you’re—you’re—”
Fleance stilled. He’d been too careless, let his hellhound get too close to the surface. As Sheena pointed at him accusingly, he felt smoke coiling out from behind his sunglasses.
He swallowed. “You have to trust me—”
“Oh, sure, I trust you.” The sudden tightness around her eyes told him that was a lie, and his chest twisted. “Is this some kind of sick joke? That was you back in the house, wasn’t it?”
He grasped for the mate bond and Sheena took another horrified step backward. The shining light splintered in his grip and he let go as the world swooped around him.
“It’s not what you think,” he began. “Please. Trust me.” He pulled off his sunglasses and reached out to her mind again, trying to imbue his own telepathic voice with how important it was she believe him while keeping back how afraid he was.
*I’ll explain everything, but there isn’t time—*
He stopped. A wall had come down between his mind and Sheena’s, impenetrable as stone. Even the golden thread connecting his heart to hers pulled tight, as though a huge weight had slammed down on it.
Splintered. Crushed. Fear dug into his heart. How much more damage could it take?
That first touch of her mind to his had been like the lick of a cool breeze. He wanted to feel it again. To roll around in it, luxuriate in the sudden mind-to-mind intimacy. He’d been able to speak telepathically to shifters ever since Parker turned him, but this was different. This, for the first time since he’d become a shifter, had felt like it was what he was meant for.
And now it was going up in smoke.
“Your eyes are on fire.” Sheena stepped back, her jaw tightening. “That’s what I saw in my aunts’ house. What’s going on here? Who are you?” Her fists clenched. “Did you do this? Fiona told me to leave before he did something. And you’re—you’re—”
My mate, she mouthed, as though she couldn’t bear to say the words out loud. Before Fleance could say anything, she shook herself.
“No. The fear was a trick. This is a trick, too, isn’t it? You’re doing something to my mind. You’re not really… no.”
Her face had been full of fear and disgust but now, as she said that the connection between them might not be real, they melted away and were replaced by hope.
Hope that he wasn’t her mate.
Blackness swirled at the edges of Fleance’s vision. Not his hellhound: it was desperately silent, as though if it stayed still enough, it could take back the last thirty seconds and not ruin the one good thing in his life.
“Sheena, I—” he began, his voice ragged.
The hairs on the back of his neck rising was all the warning Fleance got that it was too late.
*Don’t let me ruin the moment.* The voice clawed into Fleance’s mind, bitter sharp and horribly familiar. *No more than you’ve already ruined it yourself, little Flea.*
The air behind Sheena shimmered and a hellhound stepped out of nothingness onto the empty road.
Sheena swore and reeled back towards Fleance. Protect her! his hellhound snarled. Fleance didn’t need telling. He moved in front of her automatically, adrenaline flooding his system.
And Sheena’s voice burst into his mind, jagged-edged and sharp as the light that flared between them once again.
*What the fuck is that?* she gasped. Emotions flooded through the mate bond: shock, confusion. Guilt. *His eyes—wait. And his smell. It wasn’t you at my aunts’ house, it was him.*
Fleance reached behind himself without looking and grabbed her hand. *Don’t worry. I’ll protect you.*
*What is that?*
Fleance gritted his jaw. *A hellhound. Like me.*
Angus Parker’s hellhound form was the size of a small pony. In the dark, from a distance, it might look like a real dog. If you made that mistake, as Fleance knew, you were already done for. If it got close enough for you to see the acrid smoke boiling out from under its black coat, or the pits of hellfire where its eyes could be, there was no escape.
The last time he had seen Angus Parker, Caine had just made him bare his throat in surrender. Caine had fought Parker in hellhound form: the two alphas were matched
