Page 76 of Angel Betrayed

“Leave him alone!” she yelled. Where was Az? She didn’t dare look away from the hound, not with those teeth so close to tearing into her.

Sam’s hands flew out. He grabbed the hound’s neck and snapped. She knew that crack meant the hound’s neck had been broken. She jumped back as the heavy body collapsed.

Sam pushed the hound to the ground. “We don’t have much time,” he told her even as his gaze flew around the lot. She saw his stare lock on something to the right.

She followed his gaze—Az. Rising slowly and frowning.

A low growl rumbled near her feet. Seline looked down. No way. The hound had been dead.

“You’ll have to do better than that,” Rogziel taunted.

Bones snapped back into place. The beast rose slowly, rolling its neck back into position with a crack that chilled her blood.

Can’t kill it.

Its claws swiped out and tore open Sam’s side.

Then the beast turned its hellfire stare on her.

“You’d better, run, Seline,” Rogziel called out. “This time, my pet is going after you. Get ready to see your daddy, little demon.”

What she saw was her death, burning in the hound’s eyes.

She didn’t have time to move. The beast leapt up, and its paws slammed into her chest. The hound took her to the ground, trapping her with its huge body. Its fangs snapped toward her throat. She could smell brimstone, ash, and death.

“Hell’s waiting, Seline!” Rogziel roared.

In the hound’s eyes, she saw that hell.

Chapter Eleven

Seline shoved her hands against the beast’s body. It was heavy and hot and?—

It licked her.

Her breath rasped out as she pushed against it. She couldn’t get the thing to budge. It was too big. Its breath smelled of death, and she knew the thing was going to rip open her throat at any moment.

The beast licked her again. Then it whined low in its throat.

What?

The hound wasn’t attacking. Not ripping and tearing out her throat.

Rogziel’s laughter had stopped. Now he was shouting, calling out for the beast to kill, but the hound wasn’t hurting her.

Why?

The hound’s head rose, and it stared down at her. Its breath was horrid. The creature’s face was like a nightmare, but it looked at her like—like it was her pet.

Hellhound.

Whispers and half-forgotten stories floated through her mind.

“Get off me,” she told the beast quietly. “Be a good, um, hound, and get up.”

The beast whined but actually began to shift its body as if it were going to rise.

Her breath expelled. Maybe I am like my mom.

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