The Hellhound King Read online

  She ran her fingers over the first mercenary’s pockets, pulled two blades and a demi ball free before finding a sealed pouch with papers inside. She slid her thumb under the magnetic clasp, popped it open. Two cards fell out. The first was a digital imager. Six pictures, all of Marina, flashed over it. Four were actual pictures she remembered posing for; the other two were doctored to show how she might look if disguised. She pursed her lips and moved her attention to the second card, an advertisement, the kind usually found posted near portals and nine world bars. Another picture of Marina, but this one with words, too…words that promised a bounty equivalent to three years’ earnings for an average mercenary. To earn it, all they had to do was return Marina to Alfheim, to her uncle.

  Marina held the last card between two fingers. Her uncle then, that was good. Hopefully, the elf lords knew nothing of what she had done and didn’t care about where she had gone.

  She was still studying the card when a net dropped onto her head.

  From the limb of the tree, Raf smiled down at the now completely encased Marina. She’d come back.

  Of course, he’d known she was coming back as soon as her body twisted his direction.

  The elf princess had underestimated him…. He dropped onto the ground next to her. Her lips opened to release a curse. He smiled.

  “Miss me, Princess?” He reached one finger through the weave of the net, stroked it down the back of her hand. “I’m sorry I had to go away so unexpectedly. Oh, wait.” He pulled his finger back, curled both hands into fists. “You sent me to that boxed hell, didn’t you?” She hadn’t just had him imprisoned, she’d had him locked in a box, hung from the ceiling of a dungeon…for years.

  She kicked out with both feet, managed to knock the heel of her boot into his shin. He barely felt the pain. It was nothing but a whisper against the roar of success.

  He’d caught her. Now the fun would begin.

  Chapter 2

  M arina used her heels to inch her body backward, until she could lean against the wall.

  Raf had shimmered them both to some dark pit of a room. The walls were bare and water-stained, the floors concrete. He’d told her he meant to take what she valued most—or what he thought she valued most—Amma. Then he’d fallen silent, hadn’t said a word for twenty minutes. He just sat in the lone piece of identifiable furniture the room offered, a battered folding chair, and stared at her. He’d glanced occasionally at the only other object in the room, something big and rectangular covered with a tarp, but he’d said nothing about it and said nothing to her.

  Her back pressed against the wall, she turned her head to face him. The net pressed down on her, suffocating her even, though the weave was open and the material appeared light. It was the magic in it, pressing against her, sucking up any power she had, making it hard to breathe, and even harder not to scream out in frustration.

  But she ignored both sensations, smiled, pretended she didn’t feel a thing.

  “What now?” she asked.

  He folded his arms over his chest.

  “What exactly was the purpose of this?” She lifted her hand, tried to motion with it. Her fingers caught in the net. She jerked them free.

  A hint of a smile curved Raf’s lips, then was gone.

  She leaned her head against the wall and stared up at the stained ceiling. She was tired. Tired of pretending all the time, worrying about keeping up whatever facade people expected.

  A female voice whispered in her head, a taunt. “Poor elf princess, forced to live a life of privilege. Were you forced to hunt those witches? To kill them?”

  It was Amma, stirring in her brain. She’d begged the witch to show herself, and now when Marina was at her lowest, she did. But not in the way Marina needed.

  “I have reasons for what I did,” she said to Raf, but to Amma, too. “And regrets.”

  Nothing about Raf changed. His stare stayed steady, his body stiff. Marina couldn’t even say if he was breathing. He was like a statue, a cold judging statue.

  “My biggest—” she dropped her gaze, stared at her hands—pale and sleek, elf hands, a killer’s hands, or so people thought “—is the witch-burning.” Her voice shook as she said it.

  She’d blocked the memory from her mind, but the smell of the wood came back to her, the terror on the crowd’s faces. She had tried to tell herself she’d had no choice, had to carry out the deed as part of her role as Jager leader, the main representative of the elf lords. They’d already sent one spy, Raf; there had to be others. As it was, Marina had taken risks enough. She had put on the performance of her life.

  The smoke had billowed when she’d tossed the flame. And everyone had thought the witch was dead, burned to nothing but ash.

  Only Marina knew the truth.

  Which meant everyone else, Raf, Amma, everyone, thought she was a killer.

  “Liar,” whispered Amma.

  Marina ignored her. She was used to ignoring such things now. If she wanted to survive, stay sane, she had to.

  She looked back at Raf. He was beautiful. The word was feminine and he wasn’t, not at all, but it fit. Sitting there so still, his beauty was even more obvious. His body was fit, shoulders broad with muscles that couldn’t be hidden by the long-sleeved Henley he wore. He was big, big for any male of the nine worlds, except a giant, but compared to the men her uncle would pair her with, elfin royals, he was huge. He made Marina feel safe, or had for that short time in Gunngar when she had let herself forget her role, and hadn’t yet learned of his perfidy.

  “Anything else?” Raf this time. He’d finally spoken. Marina hid her shock, relief. If he was talking to her…that had to be better than the cold silence. Not that his question was warm, far from it. If anything, he looked more removed.

  “You mean like you?” she asked. Her hands trembled. She hid them under her legs…. “Not a thing. I don’t regret a thing about that.” Her voice softened at the end, almost too soft for her own ears to hear.

  He stood then, moved toward her so quickly she thought for a moment he’d shimmered. Then before she could breathe, before she could sort out what was happening, he jerked off the net and pulled her against him.

  “No regrets?” he asked, staring down into her eyes. “Not a one?”

  She shook her head. He was pressed against her, warm and hard. His fiery scent tickled at her memories, made her want to close her eyes…go back in time.

  She had missed being close to him, touching him. She didn’t—couldn’t—get herself to regret for even one second the time she’d spent with him in Gunngar. It had been stupid and foolhardy, but for a few brief days, she’d been happy, relaxed. He’d done that for her.

  But she also couldn’t regret what came after, ordering him locked into that box and put into the farthest reaches of the dungeon. He’d betrayed her. What else could she have done?

  “I have regrets, lots of them.” His dark blue gaze was intense, snapped with anger. His body seemed to thrum with the emotion, too. He hated her, but he was holding her.

  It was all she’d ever wanted, his touch, his arms around her, Raf being with her.

  Her traitorous body swayed toward him. Her knees tried to buckle, but she forced herself to stay upright, fought to ignore the desire pounding through her.

  Then his lips covered hers and she let reality slip away, let her mind drift back to those few days in Gunngar, let herself pretend she was as ignorant now as she was then.

  His kiss was harsh, not the loving soft movement of his lips she remembered, but the pressure of her lips against his was just as strong and punishing. She was angry, too.

  He’d destroyed her trust so thoroughly, destroyed her in a way no one else ever had.

  His fingers yanked the scarf from her head. Her hair cascaded down her shoulders, her back. It had grown since she’d left Gunngar. Almost reached the curve of her hips now. It was impractical, flying loose like that. Playing princess, she’d been forced to keep her hair up in elaborate braids; pla
ying Gunngar’s leader, she should have had it shorn, but had kept it long. One tiny secret sign of revolt.

  Now she reveled in its weight on her shoulders.

  Raf grabbed her hair with both hands and cradled the back of her head as he took the kiss deeper. She reached her arms around his waist, up his back. Spread her fingers over the muscles that shifted as he moved against her.

  Her breasts flattened against his chest; his heart beat against hers…both beating too fast. She panted for breath, unable to kiss him hard enough, long enough.

  She had wanted this for so long, but…one tiny sane part of her brain piped up…he isn’t here to love you, to save you. He’s here to hurt you, again.

  Her fingers twitched. She still had her blade. She should threaten him, force him to free her, but she couldn’t. She didn’t want to. Didn’t want to remember that she needed to.

  His mouth still close to hers, he took a step back. Then muttered something against her lips—a curse she guessed. She wanted to curse, too, curse him for pulling away, putting even an inch of space between them.

  Then he was back. Her breasts smashed against his chest, her groin against his thigh. He smelled good, smoky. She’d forgotten how his scent tantalized her, excited her. How had she forgotten that? Smoky like a wood fire when you were alone in the woods, not the ugly black smoke of that pyre where she’d had the witch tied.

  A shudder shot through Marina’s body. Even knowing the woman had survived, she couldn’t stand the memory, not of the event or the congratulations the elf lords had sent afterward.

  As if reading her change of mood, Raf froze. Realizing she’d messed up, was losing the moment, Marina rose on her tiptoes and tried to recapture his lips.

  He shoved her aside, and she fell on the net. Physically, she was unharmed, but emotionally she felt his rejection like a dagger slicing her flesh.

  She’d lost him again. The few moments forgetting everything that had passed between them were over. She closed her eyes to hold back the regret.

  He turned away. His cold dismissal gave her strength, reminded her what reality was, what she had to do—look out for herself, because no one else would.

  She reached into her boot and pulled out her blade.

  Another bounty hunter, another hellhound, had shimmered into the room. Raf pushed Marina to the floor, instinctively protecting her even, though logic said that was insane, that she was the enemy, not a damsel in distress.

  Still, he turned, ready to fight.

  The other hellhound hadn’t realized he’d been made yet. He stood in the shadows, thought he was blending into the background. Perhaps he didn’t realize Raf was a hellhound, too. Or perhaps he was just arrogant.

  Either way, Raf had a surprise for him.

  Not even allowing himself a glance down at Marina, he shimmered.

  As Raf solidified behind the other male, Raf could smell his surprise. He hadn’t expected a forandre, a shape-shifter, the only beings in the nine worlds who could shimmer, to be caught in an embrace with an elf princess.

  No one would expect that.

  Raf shoved the ugly thought aside, grabbed for the other male’s throat instead. The bounty hunter ducked, dropping and spinning as Raf reached for him.

  Raf grunted, happy the fight wouldn’t be simple. He needed an outlet, needed a way to release the fire that had built inside him as he held Marina. Maybe killing this hunter would kill the insanity, the need he still felt to hold her, protect her.

  The other hellhound sprang to his feet, his fist flying toward Raf as he moved. Raf slipped to the side, flung his elbow into the hellhound’s head as he did. The rewarding crunch of cartilage breaking put a smile on Raf’s lips.

  The bounty hunter, shorter than Raf, but stockier, didn’t pause, didn’t bother to wipe the blood streaming from his nose, just balled his fist and struck again. This time he hit.

  Raf’s lip split. Adrenaline coursed through him. Blood filled his mouth; he spat. Balled his own fist and swung, connected again. The other hellhound staggered backward. His hand hitting a wall stopped him from falling.

  Raf pressed his advantage, grabbed the bounty hunter by the front of his shirt and shoved his fists into his throat to keep him from shimmering. “Find your own princess. This one is mine.”

  The other male shifted his weight, tried to throw Raf off balance. Raf adjusted, pulled the male forward, then knocked his adversary’s head back against the wall.

  “Surely, there’s an easier bounty to gather. Is this one worth dying for? How much are the elf lords paying you?”

  “The elf lords? Is that who you’re working for?” With a surly twist of his features, the bounty hunter grinned. “Maybe there are two rewards—a possibility of an auction. What say we work together?”

  Raf stared into the male’s eyes, let his own go red—let the extent of his anger show. “I work alone, and as I said, this princess is mine.”

  The bounty hunter’s eyes shifted to the side, to the part of the room where Raf had left Marina. “Doesn’t look that way to me.”

  Seeing truth in the bounty hunter’s gaze, Raf jerked his head, glanced to where Marina was waiting, had been waiting, but wasn’t now.

  The net still lay where he had left it but the elf/witch was gone. He dropped his hold on the hellhound, stalked to the net and jerked it off the floor. He glared around the room. “How did she…?” The door was locked, the room ten stories above ground.

  The bounty hunter he had let loose stood by the now open window. “She’s an elf. And soon she’ll be mine—at least until the auction.” With a grin, he shimmered.

  Raf cursed and crossed the room. He stuck his head through the window and inhaled. Marina’s scent was everywhere. She’d somehow scaled the side of the deserted brick warehouse with no ledges and no fire escape in sight.

  He pulled his head back inside the room and slammed his hand into the wall.

  He had completely underestimated her—again.

  He returned to the net. As he bent to retrieve it, something small and silver caught his eye.

  Cylindrical in shape, it fit easily in his palm, was actually designed for a hand smaller than his—an elf hand. Carefully, he rolled the object over his palm, studying the elfin lettering that was inscribed down its side. He didn’t read much elfin, but he didn’t need the capability to know what this was; he had one of his own. It was a locator, the kind used by bounty hunters. It was even marked with a service’s logo.

  Whoever had hired the other hellhound had given him a way to call once Marina was caught. Had he used it?

  If so, who might be on their way?

  Raf flipped the object into the air and slipped it into his pocket. It didn’t matter. Raf was going to catch her first, and Raf was going to turn her over to the elf lords—no matter how strongly his heart and hormones objected.

  Marina dropped onto the street. Her bare feet raced over the grit-covered surface as she scurried to where she had dropped her shoes. She’d been forced to take them off. The human footwear she was wearing offered no traction for scaling a wall, not even a brick one with convenient toe holds provided by the mortared spaces.

  She was on the opposite side of the building from the window she’d broken. She’d made her way around, clinging to the brick, knowing if her escape was discovered early, it would be harder for the hellhounds to catch her there. Even their ability to shimmer wouldn’t allow them to hang from the brick.

  Now she hoped her trip around the building had thrown them off her scent, much like running through water when chased in the woods. If they were unable to follow her path, they would have to travel on the ground around the building searching for her scent to pick back up.

  Hopefully, it would buy her time—enough to escape. Her shoes still in her hands, she ran across the street, kept running until she saw two workmen flinging tools and construction debris into the back of a truck. She waited until the men had climbed into the truck’s cab and started the engine, then
leapt forward and scrambled into the bed. Hunkered down, she took a breath and slipped on her shoes.

  The vehicle jerked as it pulled onto the deserted street, sent a paint can careening toward Marina. She stopped it with her foot, but kept her head low.

  Four hunters in four hours, if she counted Raf. Which meant her time quietly hiding in the human world was over.

  She closed her eyes, tried to fight the panic building in her chest. Hunted, like the witches she’d hunted in Gunngar.

  “Like it?” Amma murmured.

  Marina gritted her teeth, tried to ignore the witch. But she was right. Marina deserved this, deserved to be hunted like a witch. She was one, after all. A weak one, but still a witch. She had hunted her own kind, more vehemently because they were like her. She’d felt she had to work harder to cover the similarity.

  “Elf/witch, like me, but without the power.” Amma again, her voice singsong. “Elves aren’t supposed to be witches. Bad. Bad. Bad. They’ll destroy you when they find out.”

  Again the damn witch was right, had hit on the fear Marina had always harbored. Elves weren’t witches. Other beings were, but not elves. Until Amma had shown up in Alfheim, declared herself half elf and all witch, none had believed it possible. None except Marina, that is. She’d always known, had lived with her secret since childhood.

  “Dirty little witch. Not strong enough to hold her own. Not pure enough to be an elf. What will the elves do when they discover your lie?” Amma’s voice drifted, as if she was talking to herself, but Marina knew the words were directed at her, that the stronger witch wanted to hurt her.

  “What am I to do?” Marina asked herself.

  “To do, to do. What is she to do? She spent all that time hiding her talents, thinking the elves would turn on her. And now they’ve turned on her anyway—because of me.”

  Marina clapped her hands over her ears, even, though she knew it wouldn’t shut Amma up, that nothing could shut her up, not as long as she was inside Marina, babbling in her head. Besides, the witch was wrong. Marina wasn’t being hunted because of Amma. She was being hunted because of who she was, because of her uncle’s insane plans for her.