Something isn’t right.
As the smoke clears, it’s not a furry heap we find on the burnt ground, but a tiny naked woman. She has a massive tattoo of a Celtic dog on her back with intricate knotwork that winds its way down and around her legs and arms.
Aurora gasps, her fingers digging into my arm like I’m the only thing keeping her tethered to this world.
Not the magic.
Not the others.
Me.
She chose me.
Even terrified, she reaches for me.
A slow, terrible certainty settles deep in my chest.
I’m not letting her go.
Not now.
Not ever.
But first we need to figure out what to do with a naked human-shaped hellhound passed out on the wrakh’s lawn.
Aurora
“What happened to Louie?” I whisper, racing toward the naked woman sprawled across the grass.
Ezra clears his throat, placing a careful hand on my shoulder. He’s still in “don’t scare Aurora” mode. Every movement is deliberate. Every touch lands with intention.
It should unnerve me.
Instead, it makes me feel safe.
“Aurora, please don’t worry. Hellhounds have many abilities. Shifting into human form is one of them. It’s rare, but it does explain why Hell chose her to protect you.”
A pause, his lips twitching like he’s about to be so fucking rude.
“Though … she is rather small.”
The insult lingers, ripe for the taking.
“So … this is Louie?”
She’s beautiful. That shouldn’t surprise me, but the truth is … it kind of does.
The tiny figure curled on the ground can’t be more than five feet tall, her hair a dirty-blonde tangle streaked with black, just like her fur.
A massive Celtic hound stretches across her back, jaws open in a silent snarl, inked in bold black with faint glints of color that catch the light. Intricate knotwork winds down her arms and legs like armor, proof she’s always been a fighter.
My fierce, foul-mouthed protector, terrifying as a canine, now looks delicate, almost fragile. And that unsettles me more than I want to admit.
Iain’s feet enter my periphery, a blanket dangling in one hand.
I snatch it without thinking, too stunned by the rare act of consideration from such a gigantic asshole, then tuck the blanket tightly around Louie.
A shadow tendril brushes my wrist, then retreats.
