Page 27 of The Huntress and Her Hound

A door creaks open at four-thirty, and the sound of a whimper outside of my room sends me shooting up out of bed. I can’t tell who or what it is, but I crack my bedroom door open anyway.

I peer down to see Cash’s big brown eyes gazing up at me. “What?”

He whines more audibly, throwing a paw at the door. His nails striking the wood pierce the silence and cause me to wince. He’ll wake the whole damn house up.

“You want in my room or something?” I swing the door the rest of the way open, but he doesn’t go in, anxiously lingering in the threshold. He whines again, and then runs to the bathroom door across the hall, peering back at me with an urgency I’ve only seen from a dog in movies. “What? Do you use the toilet in there or something?” I laugh at my own joke, and then freeze. The light beneath the bathroom door casts a soft glow against the floor.

Is she back already? Is it Henry? Is someone sick?

I glance at Henry’s door, still shut at the end of the hallway. Cash whines again at me. Reluctantly, I approach him, and then reach for the doorknob. However, I stop myself as a muffled cry pierces the silence. My heart picks up its pace, and I slowly turn the knob, pushing the door inward. I should’ve knocked, but for some reason, it doesn’t even cross my mind.

My jaw drops at the sight of Cher leaned over the sink in just her black bra and thong. The white ceramic is smattered with blood. Purple bruises line her shoulders, jaw and thighs, tainting her porcelain skin.

“Cher...” My voice wavers with uncertainty. “What...happened?”

She freezes, apparently not having heard the question part. She shuts the water off, and grabs for the hand towel, blotting the blood still coming from her mouth. And then, she looks at me.

My heart fucking shatters in my chest at the sight of pain in her eyes. “Who did this to you?”

She shakes her head. “Just go away.”

“I can get Henry for you,” I offer, choosing not to be an asshole in the moment. She doesn’t need an asshole. She’s clearly already had one.

And I could’ve stopped it. I could’ve fucking stopped it.

Fury funnels through my core as I realize my mistake—my choice to let her walk away instead of following her the rest of the way up. I could’ve been there for her. I could’ve saved her from... this.

“Don’t get my brother,” she snaps at me, though her voice is muffled. “The last thing I need is him playing the hero. I chose this tonight. It’s none of your business.”

I narrow my gaze. “You chose this? What are you, a masochist?”

“No,” she actually laughs, shaking her head. “Though if I was, I’d be having one hell of an orgasm right now.” However, the laughter fades as she meets her own eyes in the mirror. Disgust penetrates the glass.

“Can I see?” I take a step forward as she spits more blood into the sink.

She side-eyes me warily. “What? You get off on blood or something?”

If it’s yours, maybe.

“You must have a hell of a cut in your mouth,” I say instead, but she still stiffens as I close the distance, seeing the deep, nearly black bruising across her jaw. “I just want to help you—nothing else.”

She bristles, glaring at me from behind tortured irises. “What if I don’t want your help?”

I gently tip her chin back to get a better view, challenging her hate for me with softness. “But what if my help is exactly what you need? What if I can stop the bleeding?”

Her dark lashes flutter. “Impossible.”

“Nothing is impossible,” I chuckle. “Open up.”

She shakes her head as something dark flashes across her expression. “No.”

I study her for a few beats. I triggered her somehow—so I try again. “In order to stop the bleeding, you have to open your mouth.”

“You’re a doctor now?”

“Your brother’s had some incidents over the years.”

Her upper lip curls upward just enough to show a hint of a smile. “He’s an idiot.”

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