Page 33 of Hellhounds Never Lie

But this had to be the place—the mythical supernatural utopia—I’d overheard the faun talking about. When I’d heard about it, I’d been hopeful. Now that I was here… I wanted to believe I could find a home here. Finally. But was it too good to be true?

If I hadn’t wasted a week with the pack in the hills, maybe I’d have figured that out by now.

On the far side of the pub were low wooden tables. Clusters of wooden chairs with padded leather seats encircled them. A semi-private area with glass walls and windows facing the lake, which was across the street, was in the farthest corner.

I followed Ash to one of the round wooden tables. As soon as we were seated, a calico cat leapt onto the table. I didn’t need to shift into my hellhound form to feel the power emanating from the deceptively small and fluffy body. This was no ordinary cat, nor was it a typical feline shifter. I didn’t know what it was.

“Is this him?” the cat asked. His tail flicked in the air as if to punctuate his question.

Before either of us could answer, the bartender arrived with a small pad of paper and pencil in his hand.

“Hey, Ash,” the young brown-haired bartender said. “Do you want your usual?”

“Oh, hi, Jake,” Ash said. “I didn’t mean for you to have to come get our orders. I was going to come up. But, yeah, my usual would be great. Thanks.”

Jake smiled and, honestly, he looked adorable—not as adorable as my little witch, but still cute. If I hadn’t met Ash, I might have even been tempted to get to know him a little better, even though there was something fucked up about his magic. I couldn’t quite figure out what I was feeling from him, but something wasn’t right. I almost wished I could shift and take a good look at him, but there were too many humans around to do that.

“No worries,” Jake said, waving away Ash’s concern. Then the guy turned his attention to me. “You must be new to town. I’m Jake. Welcome to the Willow Lake Pub.”

His cheeks pinkened as his gaze drifted over the expanse of my shoulders and my bare forearms. The shape of my body was a genetic thing. I didn’t have to do much to maintain my muscles, but this wasn’t the first time someone had eyed me appreciatively. After all, Ash had done the same thing last night when he’d seen me shift on the road.

Right now, though, Ash didn’t look pleased. I grinned as he staked his claim on me by sliding his hand into mine under the table, then lifting our joined hands onto the table. Nothing subtle about my firecracker.

“Jake, this is Dillon. My boyfriend.”

My chest warmed at the title. I wanted to be so much more than that, but the title would work for now.

The cat cleared its throat.

“And, Dillon, this is Paws,” Ash said, waving toward the cat, who narrowed his eyes at that introduction. Ash rolled his eyes. “Fine. His proper name is Pawington the Third, but he lets us mere mortals call him Paws.”

Jake’s forehead wrinkled at Ash’s introduction of the cat.

“It is nice to meet you finally,” Paws said with a sniff.

Jake swallowed hard when Paws spoke, then he averted his eyes. His fingers tightened on the pen and little notebook he carried, like he was pretending not to understand what the cat said. And wasn’t that curious? Because people who didn’t know about magic, like Jake supposedly didn’t, should have heard a cat’s meow instead of words.

“What can I get you?” Jake asked quickly. He was barely able to meet my eyes now.

“A Caesar with extra tabasco. Can we look at your menu too?”

As soon as we placed our drink orders, Jake peeled away from the table like it was possessed.

Yeah. I’d bet that Jake knew more than he was letting on. But why would he lie about that? What would he gain by keeping his knowledge of supes a secret?

Ash’s phone pinged with a message. He looked at the screen and snorted.

“It’s just my friend Jeremy,” he said, flashing the message toward me so I could read it.

MyBestestBFF4ever: If vampires only drink blood, what does their pee look like? Because they have to have waste material, right? I suppose I could be convinced that they don’t shit because of their liquid diet… but I’m not willing to believe they don’t piss.

My witch typed something back, his fingers flying over his screen. I didn’t ask what his reply was. Frankly, I didn’t know why anyone would want to know about vampire excrement, except maybe a vampire and their doctor.

Ash was just finishing his text when Van came over to our table and sat with us, not waiting for an invitation.

“Two hellhounds in town, hey? Not often you see that.” The cat’s tail swished back and forth.

“Is that going to be a problem?” And just when I thought I’d found a place to settle. I mean, I guess I knew on some level that hellhounds didn’t settle in packs, but I hadn’t sensed Van was territorial of Willow Lake last night when we’d talked.