“Howl again, Sweetness.”
She arched her brow and shook her head.
“Come on. Let me hear it,” he gave her a crooked grin. “Loud and proud, Tilly.” For good measure, he tilted his head back and let a melodious howl rise from his throat.
“You sound so much like an animal, it’s unreal.”
“Howl with me, Sweetness.” He didn’t want words right now. He didn’t want anything but the feel of his soul shaking when he got her to howl again. “Come on, Tilly, don’t leave me hanging.”
“This is silly,” she fussed nervously.
“Aw come on. Tell me it didn’t feel good to let your inhibitions down and release a call to the wild.”
Tilly fidgeted but wouldn’t howl.
“Please?” Bishop howled again, but kept his gaze locked on hers. He cupped his ear, letting her know he couldn’t hear her yet, and continued to howl in one long breath. Like answering a pack call, she inhaled a lungful of air and howled right along with him. He smiled as the last of his breath escaped in a chuckle and she was the only one still howling. “Fuck that sound makes me feel good, woman.”
She tucked her hair behind her ears. “I can’t believe I just did that. I have no idea why I did that. This is crazy.”
“This is nice,” Bishop smiled, coaxing her to loosen up by putting his arm around her waist.
One thing about Bishop: he wasn’t shy. The Hound always went for what he wanted and never hesitated. And right now, he wanted to touch her. Feel her body. “I’m glad I was in the right place at the right time. You’ve just made my night a helluva lot more enjoyable, Tilly.”
She put her hand on his arm, but didn’t push him away. “I can’t stop thinking about you.” He beamed a big, fat smile and she shook her head, “Oh my god, I can’t stop blurting. This is embarrassing.”
“No. It’s honest. I like that.” Bishop tilted her chin so she’d lock eyes with him again. “What’s got you so sad, Tilly?”
“I’m not sad.”
“Liar,” he kept his tone playful. “Keep it honest with me, Sweetness. I can see you’re sad. Why?”
Again, that hidden sadness peeked out of her stunning gaze, “I don’t want to be alone tonight.”
“Okay,” he said cautiously.
“Stay with me? I know I don’t know you, but…” she stepped back from him, “I… crap, I have no clue why I’m such a…” she slumped with her next exhale and recollected her thoughts. “I’m having a shit night.”
“What happened?”
She stared at him for a moment, like she was actually debating on pouring her heart out to him. He watched her think it through, it made him tense with anticipation. If something was wrong, maybe he could fix it. That’s the second thing about Bishop: He deflected a lot. When he was too broke to function and didn’t want to deal with his issues, he focused on someone else’s troubles instead.
“So… you were really just walking by my house, the same time I howled?”
“Yyyup.” Her apartment smelled like female and cleaning supplies. Bishop’s gaze wandered away from hers for a moment and he saw a book sitting on the edge of a tiny coffee table. What the—
“Do you believe in synchronicity, Bishop?”
He didn’t say a word and continued to stare at the book.
“It’s the simultaneous occurrence of events that appear significantly related but have no obvious pivotal connection.”
Uhhhh whoa, hey there Miss Dictionary. “You mean like kismet?” he asked cautiously.
“Perhaps,” Tilly eyed the window he’d opened a few minutes ago. She quickly went over and slammed the thing shut.
Bishop’s panic rocketed and he tore his gaze away from the book. “No!” he caught himself and calmly said, “Please leave it open.”
“I can’t,” she said, locking it then checking to make sure it was secure.
“Why not?”
Tilly turned around and deadpanned him, “Because he might get in.”
“Who?” Bishop’s protective instincts kicked into high gear. “Who might get in? And through your motherfucking window, no less?”
Tilly shook her head and wouldn’t answer.
Chapter 10
Sooooo, this was awkward. Tilly fiddled with the hem of her shirt and stared at Bishop. All the buzz she had an hour ago was gone now. And as far as telling this guy about her personal issues, she just wasn’t going to do it. End of story. No matter how much something inside her said to spill all her beans to this random dude, she wasn’t going to.
“Who are you so afraid of, Tilly?”
“Who says I’m afraid?”
Bishop cocked his head to the side, studying her. His gaze raked slowly down her body. It made her feel… not all that great actually. It was like he could see straight through her. Like he knew the difference between her lies and truths just by watching her body language.
Maybe he could. Or maybe she was dreaming it up because she was so nervous. Or maybe she’d gone insane. Sooo many possibilities here.
“Open the window, Tilly.” Bishop’s voice was dead calm. Deep. Sexy as fuck. “Nothing is going to happen to you with me here. Nothing is going to come through that window. I swear.”
“You don’t know what you’re dealing with.” She shook her head, “I mean what I’m dealing with.” Shit she was hot. Sweat bloomed down her back and across her chest. At this rate, her shitty evening was going to get so much worse because Bishop was going to leave and never return – especially if she kept up this tortured, dramatic, secret keeping bullshit.
Maybe she should just say something to him? Nope. Nuh-uh. That would scare him away too fast and she really, really wanted him to stay.
You ever see something you just had to have? Even just once, for a little bit? Tilly’s experienced that longing several times in her life. Once, with a dress that cost just over ten grand, another was with a steak at a restaurant downtown, and now it was happening again with Bishop.
She was standing smack dab in the garden and Tilly just wanted a bite of the fruit. Just a nibble or even a lick.
“I need that window open, Sweetness, or I can’t stay.”
Tilly stiffened. What the hell? She felt like she was just sucker punched in the gut. Bishop calmly walked over to the futon and grabbed his coat. He wasn’t bluffing, apparently. Shit! Tilly took a step forward, her hand raised to stop him from leaving. “Please don’t go.”
“I need an escape, Matilda Jane.” There was no anger or frustration in his voice. He just said it like you would “I need cream for my coffee.”
“Why? I don’t understand the big deal here.”
“I’m extremely claustrophobic. I can’t handle being in a small space without an obvious escape.”
“So the window is enough? If the place was on fire, you wouldn’t be able to jump out of the window, Bishop.”
“Oh Sweetness,” he swept a tatted hand through his hair and glared at her, “you don’t know me well enough to make an assumption like that.”
“I’m too high up, you’d die if you jumped.”
“Then you’re too high up for someone to scale the side of this building and climb in through that window.”
She huffed. Tilly wasn’t going to win this argument without spilling a shit-ton of secrets. “Fine,” she bristled and marched back over to the window, unlatched the two locks, and flung the sucker wide open. A cold breeze blew in and whipped her hair around. “Better?”
Bishop came up behind her and pushed the window down so that it was only open about an inch. “I only need it a little bit open,” he whispered, then he took her mouth with his and the argument was gone with the wind.
Bishop’s brain fired off in a series of questions and debates he refused to voice. He made his mouth busy by kissing the hell out of Tilly so he wouldn’t start prying into her business. Maybe Valor was right to think that Tilly was other.
For the life of him though, Bishop didn’t have a clue what else
she could be besides a fine looking woman with hair like spun rose gold and lips that tasted like cherry wine. That book over on her little table, however, raised a red flag. It looked old as fuck. She was also scared someone was after her. Someone who could potentially climb in through a window with no ledge.
A ghost perhaps? Or a Hell Hound?
The idea of another Hound entering her space made him feel possessive. Bishop squeezed her tighter as they kissed because of it. And he meant what he said about keeping her safe. He would absolutely protect her. If something scaled these walls and slid into her house while he was here, Bishop was all types of prepared for that fight. Armed to the teeth, the Hell Hound never left his house without a small arsenal of weapons, carefully stashed and concealed on his person. So let something just try to slither through her window. Bishop was so fucking ready for them.
Tilly grabbed him by the back of the head and buried her fingers in his hair, scraping his scalp with her nails. It made him ten kinds of sexed up and ready to take this to the next level, so he grabbed her ass. Jesus, fuck, she had a great ass.
She let out with a whimper and jerked away.
He released his tight hold on her immediately. “What? What did I do?”
“My ass,” she stammered. “I… oh god, this is so fucking embarrassing, my ass is all bruised from when I fell the other night. Your hand was on the bruise.”
Well now he felt terrible. “Shit, I’m so sorry.” Bishop grabbed her hand and casually brought her back into his space, “Well how about I stay to the right side of your ass then?”
“You can’t touch that either,” she half-sighed, half-chuckled. Burying her face in her hands to hide her shame, she mumbled, “I got a tattoo yesterday. It’s still really tender.”
Bishop rocked back on his heels, his smile going wide across his face. “You got your ass tattooed?”
“Yeah.”
“Can I see?”
Tilly giggled so hard she snorted. Quick as a flash, she cupped her mouth with both hands and groaned with embarrassment. “Oh my god. This is the worst fucking night ever. I have seriously been one embarrassment after another.”
Bishop continued chuckling and tried to pry her hands away from her face. “I like hearing you laugh.”
“I just snorted like a pig.”
“You happy snorted. That makes all the difference.”
Annnnd damned if it didn’t happen a second time when she started laughing again. “God Damnit!”
Now they were both cracking up and Bishop slid a hand down her side. “Come on, let me see the tattoo, Tilly.”
“No way. It’s on my ass!”
“Show me yours and I’ll show you mine.”
“Your ass or your tats?”
“Whichever you want. Both?”
Tilly’s eyes sparkled as she considered his bargain. “Fuck it,” she rolled her shoulders back and grinned. “You first, Hound Dog. Let me see what you got.”
Bishop stood back and peeled his shirt off nice and slow for her viewing pleasure. She was already staring at his full sleeve given that he was in a black t-shirt, but the piece she was really going to like – he hoped – was on another body part of his. Knowing damn well she was taking in all the views, Bishop rotated around and showed her the tattoo on his back. It was the grim reaper standing between two dark, dead trees with four crows flying above him. It said, “Find what you’d die for and live for it.”
“Holy shit,” she whispered. “That’s gorgeous.”
Fuck right it was. It was his favorite ink on his body and had the most meaning to him. “Alright, Sweetness, bare it and share it.”
“A deal’s a deal.” She pulled down her yoga pants and displayed the taped up gauze that covered her new ink. She carefully peeled it back and Bishop sucked in a breath when she revealed what was underneath.
The word DEATH was written in a swirly script and there was a pair of kissy lips under it.
Holy. Mother. Of. God. Bishop cracked a laugh so loud it startled her. He actually had to hold his gut as he bent over laughing. “That’s the greatest thing I’ve ever fucking seen.”
She winced and put the bandage back on. “Glad you like it.”
“So Death can kiss your sweet ass, huh?”
“You got it,” she pulled her pants back up and grinned. “Most people would probably think that’s stupid.”
“I’m not most people,” he wiped a tear from his eye and tried to control his laughing. Sweet baby Jesus, this woman was amazing. Her sense of humor was a thing of beauty. As was her laugh, her smile, her eyes and everything else he could see.
Tilly tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and waved over at the kitchenette. “You thirsty? I have,” she thought about it for a second, “water, wine, and coffee.”
“I’ll have whatever you’re having.” He didn’t want her to go through the trouble of making something special for him.
“Coffee?”
“Sounds amazing.” She could serve him swamp mud and he’d drink it. Bishop wasn’t picky, and knew better than to turn down something offered to him by a female as spectacular as Tilly.
He needed to simmer down. Back the fuck up. Be a little less eager. He felt like a puppy with all the tail-wagging he was doing tonight. But… well, hell, she just brought out a happier, easy going side of Bishop. Being around her lifted his spirits and after all he’d been through lately, a little break in his stormy clouds felt really fucking nice.
“Want anything in it?”
“Nope, just black.” While she made coffee in a little French Press, Bishop tried to keep himself occupied. He paced a little and looked around her place, trying to figure her out. Tilly didn’t have much in her apartment, just the basics. His gaze darted over to the opened window a few times just to keep his eyes on it. The coast was clear, and it better stay that way. “You live alone?”
“Yup.”
“How many apartments are in this building?” He wanted to know who lived around her so he could make sure she was safe.
“Undecided, actually. The other apartments still need to be renovated.” Tilly handed him a cup of Joe. “Here ya go, sorry if it’s a little strong.”
“Strong’s good,” It smelled divine. “Thanks,” he took a sip and moaned. Rich, decadent, and really strong. Fuck, it was good.
“Ummm, wanna sit?”
“Sure.” He strolled over to her little futon and sat down. He was big enough to take up most of the seat and she took up what was left. They sat in silence for several minutes. Sip, sip, ahh. Sip, sip, ahhh.
Again, Bishop eyed the book on the table. Without permission, he put his cup down and grabbed the book, inspecting it.
Holy. Shit.
Just as he was about to ask her where the hell she got the priceless artifact, Tilly stood up and dropped her coffee mug onto the table. It fell over and made a mess. She stared at the window, her eyes peeling wide, her chest rising as she started to hyperventilate.
Bishop got up, his hand immediately going towards the blade he had tucked into the small of his back. “What is it?”
“You… You need to go.” Tilly didn’t waste time with a repeat. Flustered and scared, she grabbed his coat and shoved it into his hands. “Go. Now. Hurry!”
“Wait, what the fuck!” Bishop spun away when she tried to push him towards the door. “Tilly, what’s the matter with you?”
“You have to go!” she screamed while shoving his ass towards the door.
Did he fight her about it or go without a fuss? Bishop crossed the threshold and spun around to talk to her again. Her face was pale, eyes watery and wide. What the fuck was going on?
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. Just when he was about to say something, she slammed the door in his goddamn face.
Tilly felt the tendrils of magic slither through her body. Like a basket of cobras someone kicked and disturbed, the magic stirred and coiled, ready to strike. Tilly had mere seconds before she was going to sail into a ful
l-blown episode of what she called, curses and consequences.
Sucky timing, that.
In her panic to prepare for the worst, Tilly had shoved Bishop out of her apartment. The last thing she wanted was to freak him out when she went into severe convulsions. And there was no way she could explain what the hell was happening to her. Telling a hot guy you just met that you dabbled in dark magic could really put a kink in a relationship. So did admitting you were cursed.
After booting Bishop out, she slammed the door and leaned against it. Moving fast, Tilly dropped to her knees and crawled towards her small closet. Thank fuck for small studio apartments. If this had happened in the house she grew up in, she might have not made it to safety in time.
Tilly wrenched the closet door open and crawled inside. The floor was clear just for this purpose. Locking it with a deadbolt, her vision wavered and then all hell broke loose.
Her body felt like it was being ripped to shreds from the inside out. She curled onto her side, shaking violently, and barely got the wooden spoon into her mouth in time. She cried out, her body spasming as the after effects of the black magic she tried the other night worked its way out of her system.
She pissed her pants. She bled from the nose. She lost her hearing.
Overall, it wasn’t too bad. She'd definitely been through way worse, which was why she installed the lock on the inside of her closet.
Tilly laid on the floor of her tiny closet, alone, in pain, and cursed the universe a thousand times in her head until she eventually passed out.
Chapter 11
Valor aimlessly drove around the city. He was so tired and fed up with life he could scream. His cell phone rang and even the ringtone pissed him off, “Yeah?”
“Hey, it’s me.”
“Chloe,” Valor’s voice was laced with venom, “I’m trying to understand this, but I canna.”
Hard to Find (Hell Hounds Harem Book 4) Page 7
