Fine. Whatever. Now the mutt has a name—a truly fucking stupid one.
As Louie lopes into the woods, I allow myself a moment to study the goddess.
Her hair is piled in a messy bun on top of her head, and her eyes are wide as she surveys the forest.
Is she looking for me?
I rip a branch from the nearest tree and snap it in my hands to gauge her reaction.
Aurora’s heated gaze instantly lands on me in my Umbraeth.
She’s responsive. Oh, the fucking beautiful possibilities.
Once she’s back inside, I reluctantly return to my task of convincing the massive mutt that I’m not a threat.
Shifting into the Tesem, I rush off into the woods to intercept Louie.
I’ve charmed dogs before—just to slip into their owner’s bed—but it’s cumbersome. It’s too much effort when there are plenty of humans without mutts guarding their doors.
But this isn’t about convenience.
Aurora is different. She belongs to me.
And that means I have to charm the fur off this overgrown, drooling bastard.
I track Louie as she sniffs along the road, nose to the ground.
She’s onto me.
I creep closer, my shadows curling toward her, but … pause.
The energy. It’s wrong. Off.
Not the usual warmth of a dog—no gentle pulse, no steady rhythm of a mortal heart. I felt this once before. And I swore if I ever crossed paths with it again, I would cut and run.
Shame I’m too stubborn for that.
A normal dog’s energy is simple. Warm. Steady.
Louie’s? Hellfire. Wrath. And death, buried deep.
What the void-loving fuck? How did Aurora end up with a hellhound?
A few thousand years ago, I crossed paths with a hellhound amid the thunder of chariots on the killing fields of Kadesh. If I hadn’t shifted into my Umbraeth, the colossal beast would’ve torn me in half.
That was enough of a lesson to steer clear of hell-beasts.
Hellhounds drag lost souls back to Hell. But they’re also protectors. The ultimate “touch her and die screaming” companions.
I’ll need to approach this creature with a steady hand and a gentler touch than usual.
My typical don’t-give-a-fuck tactic might get me eviscerated.
I could stay a dog. Try to charm her. But hellhounds are smarter than that. And I’d rather not get disemboweled for the attempt.
So, I shift back into my Løkkda and clear my throat to get Louie’s attention.
The hellhound’s head whips toward me so fast I swear I hear her spine crack.
