Destined to the Hellhound: BEAST

Chapter 19

Blinking my eyes open, I'm met with complete darkness. His warm skin surrounds me, wrapped around my body, pressed to my face, his hands threaded through my hair.

I'm disoriented from sleep and the vertigo of waking in pitch black, but he's here.

The slow, quiet rhythm beneath my head is soothing. Thump, thump, thump. His heart. Each beat makes me drowsy. The kind of sleep you have as a child when the horrible truths of the world are far away and innocents let you sleep without worry.

I'm safe in his arms.

Even as I drift back to sleep, consciousness slowly fading, I want to giggle at the absurdity of it.

I'm safe, wrapped in the arms of the great hound of Hades.

Hazy, dream-like thoughts float around in my head. Every fear. Every uncertainty about my future. Can we actually be happy together? He is darkness, he is the guardian at the gate, but he isn't evil. I don't accept some of his actions, but I can understand them.

When Mykle was being forced on me, I wanted to escape him. With each passing day, I want to escape Cerberus less and less. The feeling of dread and despair I had at the thought of spending every day for the rest of my life tied to Mykle is nowhere in sight.

The nagging pull of darkness that was always there in my mind is gone. Or maybe it's not. Maybe it just feels different. Less like darkness and more like a piece of me that isn't really bad.

He's seen it. I stabbed him in the chest, and he liked it. He likes all parts of me. Especially the darker parts.

When my eyes flutter open again, the room is still blacked out, but there is a distinct difference. He's awake. I can tell by his slow, controlled breaths and the slightly different thump of his heartbeat.

I feel like I should say something, but I don't know what I could possibly say. Hey, sorry my dad used you, betrayed you, and held you in a dungeon for a quarter of a century. That just doesn't seem like enough.

Running my fingers up, over his chest, I trace the lines of the scars.

"What are these from?" He has so many.

"Fighting leaves scars," he shrugs. "I've been in my fair share of fights." He takes my hand, moving it over the scar just above his heart. A short but thick raised line of smooth skin. "This was the cut from the dagger."

"Where is it?"

"I don't know. When I was no longer there to hold the gate, Hades sent parties of raiders out to find it, but no one ever could. I suspect he still has it somewhere."

"What did you do for twenty-five years?"

He chuckles. "You're very curious this morning."

"Yeah, well, I slept well."

"Is that all you need to be sweet and agreeable? I'll make sure you sleep well from now on. Or is it possible that it was something else that helped you sleep?" His tone goes from playful to thick and lustful in a second.

"I'm sure it was the sleep."

He hums, running his fingers through my knotted hair. "I spent twenty-five years in a paralyzed state. I couldn't move, but I was awake, able to think and feel. It was worse than death. After fifteen years, I was able to move my fingers, then my whole hand, and by twenty-four years, I escaped and wandered through the Moving Forest."

"A year ago?"

"Yes, little bird. I spent the rest of the year building my strength and gathering an army to come get you."