Page 12 of Hounded: Ashes to Ashes

Loren cocked his head.

“You might call her Miss,” I explained, “but I sure as hell don’t have to. I’d rather call her Bitch Supreme. Or Cuntasaurus.”

He smiled again, barely there, and answered.

My eyes fluttered open to the inside of Sully’s apartment. I sprawled in a heap of floor cushions, sweaty and frantically swimming toward the surface of reality.

It was more reality than I’d ever known. A chaotic clash of life and death and a pain in my skull a thousand times worse than any hangover. I could only peek out for a few seconds before an agonized wince forced my eyes shut again. I groaned and rolled onto my side, smashing my hands on either side of my head because, if I didn’t, I was sure it would burst.

“Indy?” Sully sounded worried.

I was worried, too.

And sad, happy, angry, frightened, elated, devastated… Aware.

Holy fuck, was I aware.

Drugs didn’t hold a candle to this all-consumingeverything. It was like a movie theater in my mind, spinning through reels of film too fast to make sense of any of it. Moments snagged in the machine, historical stills from every decade. I really did look good for my age.

So did Loren.

A whole new ache of understanding washed over me.

The demons, the hellhounds, Loren’s soul-binding contract… His absence made for a grim fate, and Iunderstoodit.

I wished I didn’t.

Sully shook me.

My eyelids rolled open, and I saw books and bottles and candles and Loren’s sweater cut into pieces and sacrificed to the effort.

We’d started right then. I dragged my druggie ass out of Sully’s bathroom, and we worked. I wasn’t sure what I expected it to look like. Maybe a cauldron and pointy hat for Sully? That she’d shapeshift into some truer form that involved warts or green skin?

Instead, we went to the kitchen and boiled water in a stockpot. It was more like making dinner than magic.

But it worked; I remembered.

I thought it would feel good to remember but, so far, it was excruciating.

Writhing onto my back again, I sucked a halting breath. If there had been anything left in my stomach, I would have puked. Instead, my empty gut twisted and lurched, and I sandwiched my palms around my skull, holding all the bits of me together.

The sweater had been rendered to yarn and braided into a bracelet added to the growing stack on my left wrist. The drab strip of greige was the polar opposite of the rainbow-beaded raver bracelet Sully made as my protection charm, but the sight of the two side by side made my heart throb.

They were like Loren and me.

My constant companion. My mate. Mylove.

I loved him.

That feeling trampled all the others. It was warm and wonderful and staggeringly deep.

Over and over, I loved him.

I lived for his shy smiles and tender touches. I craved the cozy, quiet moments that brought peace to the madness of my world. He filled my emptiness with so much care, andI loved him.

“Indy!” Sully called on me again, and I traced from her hand on my elbow up to her face. Her brows were knitted together, and she held a pair of scissors. Open. Poised. Angled toward my sweater-thread bracelet and ready to sever it.

“Don’t!” I sat bolt upright.

---