The truck thundered faster, its bald tires wobbling.
Faster, faster . . .
Those invisible teeth snapped at him again.
Sam slammed on the brakes. His chest rammed into the steering wheel, but those teeth—those damn sharp teeth—tore free of him. A giant gaping hole appeared in the windshield—a hole that had been made by the hound’s body. He could see the ghostly image of the beast struggling to take shape on the dirt road. The beast was bloody, and its hind legs were broken.
Seline slumped beside Sam. Her head had hit the windshield an instant before the beast had gone through and sent glass shattering, but she hadn’t been thrown from the truck.
Sam still had his hold on her wrist, and his grip was far more unbreakable than any seat belt ever could be.
Her eyes were closed. Blood trickled from the wound on her head, and he was pretty sure he’d dislocated her shoulder when he’d stopped her from flying out of the vehicle.
The hound’s ghostly image began to vanish. With Seline unconscious, the hound couldn’t marshal enough energy to focus and attack again.
Sam’s fingers curled around Seline’s limp hand. He glared at the disappearing beast. “Fuck you,” he snarled, and drove the truck right at the hound. Just as the front bumper reached the beast, its image completely melted away.
Her shoulder hurt. Seline felt the throbbing pain push through the cloaking darkness that surrounded her.
“We’ve got a big problem.” Sam’s angry voice.
She tensed and wondered why she couldn’t open her eyes.
“You’re sure she summoned him?” A voice she hadn’t heard before. Male. Deep. Not angry like Sam’s, more . . . measured.
She tried to lift her lashes. Not happening. What’s wrong with me? The last thing she remembered was being in that old, beat-up truck with Sam. He’d told her . . .
Call it off . . . or you die.
Then the world had stopped. No, not the world, that crappy pickup truck. Glass had exploded and a hound’s roaring cry had filled her ears.
Then, nothing.
“The minute she went out, the hellhound vanished. The beast didn’t hurt her, not even once, but it sure tried to take more than its pound of flesh from me.” Sam again. She could feel him, knew he was close.
Sam threatened to kill me. The thought had rage building within her. She’d saved his butt, and he’d actually said he’d kill her?
She hadn’t even seen anything in the back of that pickup. Yeah, something had been there. Once the blood started flowing, there had been no denying that fact. But she hadn’t summoned anything. She didn’t even know how to do something like that.
As for killing her? Kiss my ass, Fallen. The way Seline figured it, their deal was now over.
And the fact that it felt like Sam had ripped her heart out? Well, she’d find a way to deal with that later. She was good at dealing with disappointment.
Shouldn’t have trusted him. She knew better than to trust anyone.
Seline tried to talk, but only a moan slipped from her lips.
What happened to me?
“How long are you going to hold her under?” that other male voice asked again. No anger, no judgment. Just mild curiosity.
Then she understood what was happening. Sam had put her out of commission. Damn him. He’d used his powers to trap her inside her own body. A psychic shutdown. She’d heard of this happening before, but Seline had never thought it could happen to her.
Or that he’d be the one to do this to her.
Bastard. Just when she’d started to care, to think that, maybe, she’d found a guy who understood her.
Can’t trust anyone in this world. Or the next.
Another weak moan slipped from her.
As soon as she could move again, he’d be hurting.
But the memory of that truck filled her mind. His blood had been everywhere. He’d been attacked, again and again, by something she couldn’t see.
Hellhound?
Talk about your living nightmare.
“She . . . looks familiar to me.” The other guy again. “Her nose, her cheeks . . .” A sharp inhalation. “I swear I’ve seen her before.”
“This hellhound . . .” And who the hell was talking now? A woman with a soft voice and the hint of the South drawling below the words. “Will it come back if she wakes up?”
I’m awake now! Awake, but not able to open her eyes. Or talk. Or move at all. Freaking paralyzed.
Why had she thought that she could count on Sam? She knew the stories about him, the mile-long list of enemies that he had. But still she’d gone right in and thought he’d be different with her. Obviously, she was delusional.
“If she’s the hound’s master, she’ll be able to summon it from hell anytime, anywhere.” Sam’s voice was flat, but his fingertips were on her cheek, gently brushing back her hair. The light touch felt . . . strange. It should have felt wrong, but it didn’t. Just . . . damn him. “Doesn’t matter where or when, she has an attack dog at her beck and call,” Sam finished.
“A dog that can kill you and Keenan?” The woman asked, and even Seline heard the fear in the chick’s voice, particularly when she said, “Keenan.”
“No one’s killing me, Nicole,” the guy, had to be Keenan, promised.
Something creaked. Probably a floorboard. Which brought up a new question . . . where was she?
“The hound can kill you, though?” Nicole pushed. Her voice had risen with fear.
“A hellhound can kill anyone.” It was Sam who answered. “It doesn’t matter how strong the Other is, a hound can still drag ’em down to hell.”
“And she can summon one of these hounds?” Nicole demanded.
No, I can’t. Could she?
“Yes.”
“Then why are we wasting time?” That southern accent got a little thicker. “Let’s kill her now.”
Oh, no, the chick just hadn’t said that. Bad plan.
“Nicole.” Keenan’s calm voice.
Yeah, that’s right, pull back your guard dog.
“Just touch her, and the threat’s gone.” Nicole was talking fast. Seline really didn’t like this woman. “Sam, why haven’t you killed her yet? If you know she’s this dangerous then why is she still breathing?”
Sam touched Seline’s cheek again. She wanted to flinch away yet couldn’t move. But his touch didn’t kill. Didn’t hurt her at all. “Because I’m addicted,” he said, the words rumbling, low.