Page 30 of Hellhounds Never Lie

"About seven years ago, I met a guy." I hated that my voice sounded so tremulous, like one of the delicate, fragile ladies in those classic novels my mother made me read because she didn’t like the books my teachers chose for class. You know the ones. Women were always dropping dead because their hands were cold, they had a slight case of the sniffles, or something else equally ridiculous. "I was eighteen, brand new to university life, and living away from home for the first time. He swept me off my feet and then things went… sideways."

Dillon didn't say anything. He just kept rubbing soft circles over my back with his large warm hand.

"The investigators called it emotional abuse." It helped to think of it in those terms with no personal pronouns, no overt ownership of what happened. Terms that seemed neutral. Terms that weren't directly linked to me, like it hadn't been me who’d experienced all of that. Even if it had been. "Isolate someone from their family. Gaslight them. Hurt them. Control every part of their lives." I pushed my hand between us to dig my fingers into my sternum, right over the center of my scar tissue. Rubbing it never helped to ease the ache there, but I couldn't stop doing it.

"Who did this to you?" Dillon's growl was filled with smoke.

I shook my head. That wasn’t the important part. My ex couldn’t hurt Dillon, but I might.

"The relationship lasted ten months, but…" My voice broke. I cleared my throat.

Heat poured off the hellhound's body and it soothed me, made me feel safe—even though every growl, curl of smoke, and flicker of fire revealed the predator living inside Dillon.

"I don't think it would have been so bad, maybe, if he was a regular human like I’d thought. It would have hurt and been difficult, but I think I would have been able to get out of the situation once I saw what was happening, maybe." That's what I liked to tell myself anyway. It was probably a lie to make me feel better, but sometimes lies keep you sane. "But, you see, I hadn't realized he was a witch too. He'd kept that part of himself hidden until the end. People always talk about hindsight being twenty-twenty, or whatever, but it is true. The signs were there. I should have figured it out sooner. I mean, he knew about supes. I should have asked more questions about how he knew the things he did." I swallowed as nausea rolled through me. It happened every time I talked about what happened, even after all this time and countless therapy sessions. "Anyway, I knew something was wrong with my magic. It was weaker than normal. He kept telling me I was being silly and overreacting. That I was tired. Or overworked. Or not eating enough energy rich foods. Said I was ridiculous to think about bothering a doctor with something so trivial.”

I shivered and pressed hard into Dillon’s soothing heat. “But I couldn't shake the sense that something was wrong, and I booked an appointment with a local supernatural doctor anyway." It was humiliating to talk about this. Even after all these years. Even after all the counselling. I knew it hadn't been my fault that I’d been targeted. That I was a survivor. But it was still a time in my life I wished I could forget.

"What did the doctor say?"

"I never made it to the doctor, not for that appointment anyway," I said with a sigh. "The day before the appointment, he found out about it. I’d known he was irritated, but I didn’t think too much about it. When he said he was staying the night, I didn’t suspect a thing. He stayed with me quite often, so it probably would have been stranger if he’d left.” I sucked in a breath and let it out slowly. “He attacked in the middle of the night while I was sleeping. By the time I realized what was happening, I didn't have the strength to fight back.”

Dillon growled deeply and the scent of smoke grew stronger. I needed to finish this, though, so I steeled myself and pushed on.

“I found out later he'd been stealing my magic from the very beginning, siphoning it off me like a thief in the middle of the night. But that last night? It was bad. He drained me. The courts concluded he meant to kill me."

"A supe can't survive without magic." Dillon's deep voice trembled with his anger, but I knew it wasn't directed at me.

"One of the other tenants in my apartment building was a supe and sensed something was wrong. Said they could feel the energy surge. They called the supernatural rep at the local police department. They caught Chris hauling his shit out of the apartment. I was unconscious but alive."

"You were lucky," Dillon said softly. "What happened to him?"

I sighed and slumped against him. His punishment was almost as difficult to talk about as the attack. "The attack happened right when the Supernatural Council decided to make changes to how they punished people. It used to be that supes were just slapped on the wrist for doing anything except for taking another life. Punishments for anything else fell to a supe’s coven or pack or whatever, but with more and more people living outside of traditional supe communities that meant a lot of people were getting away with those non-lethal crimes.”

“I remember,” Dillon murmured.

“The SC had started experimenting with alternate forms of punishment and incarceration. My ex was one of the first mages to be tried under the new system. They directed a local coven—not the one I grew up in, but another—to strip the magic he stole and bind whatever remained. He… He's been contained at a supernatural penitentiary ever since, but my family continues to fight for a… um… a more permanent solution."

"I agree with your family. A person like that should not be allowed to live. The moment he tried to kill you his life should have been forfeit."

I sighed. That's what my mother and brother said too. I rubbed the scars on my chest. "Honestly, I don’t know what to think. Without his magic, he’s in a lot of pain. It probably would be more humane to end his life. But I don’t want to be the reason he is killed. I don’t want his death hanging over me.”

“You wouldn’t be the reason he was killed,” Dillon argued. “He brought this on himself.”

“Anyway, it was a long time ago, but my magic has never returned, not fully anyway. I can do small things, but nothing more. And, because my magic is connected to fire, he stole my heat from me too. Ever since that night, I’ve been cold, always so very cold. It’s been years since the attack, and nothing has returned to how it wasbefore." I shuddered. I didn't want to say this, but I had to. "Until tonight. Tonight, I felt something. I think I somehow stole magic from you." I curled into him, covering my face in my hands. My body was shaking. "Oh, fuck. I'm just like him."

"Hey, now," Dillon said gently as he tightened his arms around me.

"How can you stand to touch me?" I tried to move away from him, but Dillon didn't let go.

"It's okay, little witch," Dillon soothed. "I think I'm going to have more questions about what you've told me, but they can wait. First, I need to tell you a little bit about hellhounds, okay?"

"Uh… okay?"

"I don't know if you picked up on this in the conversation we had with Van earlier, but hellhounds can't lie," Dillon started. "It isn't a choice. It isn't a moral compass. It's a fact. I’ve never lived in a pack, but my parents were both hellhounds and although they disappeared when I was young, I still remember some of the things they told me about my heritage or legacy or whatever you want to call it."

"Dillon, I'm so sorry…"

"Thank you, little witch. But I’m telling you this because I think what they told me will be important, for you and for us, if there is or could be an us." Dillon's fingers tightened slightly on me as he spoke, then he paused and seemed to consciously loosen his grip again. "They said the ability to sense lies was like an evolutionary remnant from when hellhounds worked for angels and demons to investigate crimes and dole out punishments." He shrugged. "I mean, I've never met an angel or a demon to ask them, but hellhounds have certain gifts that would help with that role, so it makes sense."