Page 57 of Gift for a Demon

Letting go of the hold on Dove’s throat, Melchom hoisted his human up, inhaling all that fear before pressing his lips to his. Dove squealed after the shock faded, but he didn’t fight. That was good. It made Melchom feel good.

“I need you to not be scared down there,” he said, their foreheads touching.

“I can’t control what scares me, and you won’t even tell me what’s down there. I just know it pissed you off yesterday.”

Melchom sighed. He needed to make the human understand. “Do you notice how when I’m feeding off you, I instill fear, but then I let go?”

His Dove nodded, albeit slowly. “I guess.”

That was good. Melchom pointed to the gate down the stairs. “The creatures down there, they don’t have that self-control. If they start feeding off you, they’re not going to stop.”

“But…”

“That’s a bad thing,” Melchom interrupted, reading that unspoken question in Dove’s head. “You can’t let them.”

“What do I do?”

“Cling to me.” His initial plan had been to suggest that Dove keep his thoughts on something else, a happy place of sorts. This would work better, though. “I’ll keep you safe, but I need you to not let go of me.”

So long as Dove did that, Melchom could funnel all that fear so it didn’t spread out. Hellhounds were vicious, but not if there was nothing to feast on.

“Okay, now let’s go.”

Melchom dissolved the guard and breathed out when the human’s brittle nails dug into his forearm. Dove didn’t always follow up his instructions without more of a fight. It was good to know Melchom was getting through to him.

Or not.

His Dove let go of him two seconds after he’d opened the door and the most strenuous of barks greeted them.

“You should’ve told me we were meeting dogs!”

There was no fear. His human was wafting off excitement out of every pore of his body and… The fuck was that about?

“Hellhounds,” Melchom corrected with a grunt.

His Dove was not listening, getting way too close and personal with the creatures. The only saving grace was that all hellhounds were chained by an iron collar attached with a leash shackled to the wall. The human was still standing way too close.

“Stop!” he bellowed, stopping Dove in place.

Melchom should’ve drilled into his head that hellhounds were not dogs, and things like offering his hand for them to sniff were not good ideas. He’d just assumed it would be obvious—from the bigger heads and lolling, serpent-like tongues, to the sharp teeth and talons Melchom had first-hand experience with. Everything about the creatures was… demonic. The fact that they barked or that they held a certain resemblance with some dogs didn’t turn them into docile, loyal best friends.

“Why?” Dove placed his hands on his hips. He didn’t seem bothered by the cacophony of barks and the incessant yanking of the chains. “And don’t try to give me some bullshit about breeds. There’s no such thing as dangerous breeds, only shitty owners, and that is not up for debate. Also, you all shouldn’t leave them chained all day. No wonder they’re going out of their minds. They need stimulation, Melchom. Physical and mental. Otherwise they go all out with destructive behaviors. Because you’re not meeting their needs.”

“They’re—” Melchom was, admittedly, stunned. “They’re killing machines, Dove. Not pets.”

Dove wasn’t listening. No, he was heading toward a specific hellhound that started whining and yanking harder at her chain.

Gaz.

Melchom didn’t like it, but he forced himself to stride forward, pulling his human close to him before he reached the traitorous hellhound.

“Don’t take one step closer to her.”

Master. Master, Master, Master, Master. Let me go, Master. Master, Master, I love you, Master. I love you, I love you, I love you.

Melchom’s eyes widened. Gaz wasn’t referring to him. No, the stupid hellhound was calling out to… Dove.

“The fuck,” Melchom grumbled.

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