Avoiding Hell's Gate
Hounds of Hell

Excerpt

Chapter One

"Alright you guys, we all know the drill," Stryker Magnus said to his team of four. "We go in, grab the soul we came to collect, and get out before anyone sees us."

He looked around at his crew as they nodded their affirmation before they all started to undress. When they all stood naked, the air around them vibrated as they shifted.

"Let's hurry this up; I have a date tonight," Jared said through the team's mental connection.

Stryker would have rolled his eyes if he could have, but he'd never pull that off in dog form.

Stryker looked at his teammates. Most men in their situation—always together, having to rely on one another—would have considered each other brothers. In Stryker and his teammates' case, they really were. They were all born of the same litter. The five of them were born of the same Bitch of Hell, and growing up they were inseparable. They all had the same dark hair and bright blue eyes, and they were all built like linebackers. In Hound form, they looked more like very large, black German Shepherds.

As they started to run toward the target's house, Stryker tried to swallow the guilt that always ate at him. Who they were really wasn't their fault. The Hounds of Hell didn't choose this life; they were born into it. And besides, you don't blame the repo guy when people don't pay their bills. The Hounds weren't evil; they just worked for the devil.

"We're within a block, boss," Tristan stated. "I suggest we switch to cloaked."

"Good call, Tristan. Do it, guys," Stryker replied. When they cloaked, they were not only invisible, they changed into something closer to spirits. They could walk through walls, unseen but still heard. No one knew why they had these powers and since you had to ask the devil to find anything out, no one asked. Stryker had yet to meet the devil in his 120 years, and he desperately wanted to keep it that way.

When they reached the house of one Rafe Damas, they walked right through the front door. Literally.

Stryker led his group farther into the room, intent on getting this job over and done with, but then stopped cold. The minute he laid eyes on Rafe, he realized there'd been a mistake. Rafe Damas' soul was clean. His aura sparkled, pure and white.

"Boss, you seeing what I'm seeing?" Jared asked, the confusion apparent in his voice. "This is the guy from the file, but I'm not seeing any tarnish on his soul. I mean seriously, the guy couldn't be any cleaner."

"Yeah, I see it," Stryker replied before thinking to himself . . . and we're so fucked.

Something—a noise, perhaps—must have cued Rafe in to their presence. He lifted his head, his gaze frantically looking around the room. "Hello? Is anyone there?"

Stryker closed his eyes and swallowed audibly. This was just the icing on the cake. Not only was the soul they were sent to collect not tarnished, the man was his mate. Unlike other shifters, Hounds couldn't tell their mates by sight or smell. No, Hounds only recognized their true love by the sound of their voice. The second Stryker heard Rafe talk, every nerve in his body went on high alert.

"Boss, you good?" Tristan asked with concern in his voice. "We have a plan?"

"Yeah, get my mate the fuck out of here before another team comes along to collect him when we don't bring him to the gates," Stryker replied. He could hear the mental gasps and groans as his team grasped how deep of shit they were in. Stryker was too distracted by the angel in front of him to pay attention. Rafe couldn't have been more than five seven, a hundred and forty pounds. He had a crown of curly, sleep-tousled blond hair and gorgeous, sea green eyes.

"I know someone's there," Rafe said a little louder as he stood from his chair. Taking a few slow steps, he moved in front of the fireplace and grabbed one of the iron pokers. "Just come out, and you can leave. I won't hurt you if you mean no harm."

"Rafe, what is going on in here?" An older man strode into the room.

Stryker immediately recognized him as Rafe's father—the boy could have been his clone. The second thing Stryker realized was that the old man was evil down to his very core. Good, or clean souls, showed as white—the cleaner the soul, the purer the white light that surrounded them. The more tarnished a soul, the darker the person looked around the edges. Humans would call this phenomenon an aura, but Stryker knew it was their actual soul.

"Un-cloak, guys; I'm going to shift to human form and find out what the fuck is going on," Stryker instructed his team. Quickly shifting before he had to listen to his brothers tell him it was a bad idea, Stryker made sure he was behind a chair to hide most of his nakedness. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the other four members of his team follow his orders. Their unquestioning acceptance almost made him smile. Here they were, ass deep in alligators, and he never had to doubt his crew's loyalty.

"Holy shit, you're real," Rafe's father, Mr. Damas stated. "I knew this day would come; the demon said the Hounds of Hell were real."

"You know what we are?" Stryker asked, trying to hide his shock. "But how can you know? Only the one who made the deal would recognize us."

"I did make the deal," Mr. Damas answered, looking at his feet. "I just didn't deal with my own soul."

"You can't trade someone else's soul," Jared said in their group link.

Stryker nodded slightly, knowing his team member and friend would see it. "You cannot make deals with demons for anyone's soul but your own."

"You made a deal with a real demon?" Rafe asked quietly.

Stryker noticed his pale, pinched features. He looked ready to faint. When everyone else turned to look at the boy, Rafe started to shake.

"Dad, how could you do that?"

"It wasn't my soul I was selling," his father answered with a raised eyebrow.

In that moment, the pieces fell into place for Stryker. Without thinking, he moved out from behind the chair and stormed over to Mr. Damas.

"You sold your own son's soul? What could possibly have been worth selling your own child out to the devil and all eternity in hell?"

Mr. Damas rolled his eyes. "Don't be such a drama queen. What do most people sell their souls for?"

"We get varied reason," Stryker answered, folding his arms over his chest.

Mr. Damas avoided Stryker's gaze and siddled over toward his son.

"Don't hide behind him," Stryker growled at the older man.

"You're taking him anyway!"

Rafe turned to his father. "You sold my soul? How could you do that?"

Stryker's heart just about broke as it all seemed to finally sink in for Rafe. The look on the boy's face was one of pure torture.

"You weren't even born yet," Mr. Damas snapped.

Though Rafe had to be at least twenty, he still shrank away from his father, giving Stryker all the confirmation he needed to know that Mr. Damas was more than a bastard; he was an abusive monster.

"The demon was the one who told me your mother was pregnant. He explained to me that since you were still a part of me until you were born and received your own soul, I could promise your soul to him."

Stryker felt an evil smile come over his face as he made his way between father and son. "That doesn't save your soul when you die, Mr. Damas. It's as black as my hair. You will still spend all eternity in the fires of hell for your crimes."

"That's not what the demon said," Mr. Damas yelled. He moved toward Stryker, but backed down quickly as the other four Hounds moved in.

"He may have told you that your soul wasn't on the line for whatever you sold your son for," Stryker answered. "But that doesn't save your soul from hell because of the life you've lived."

"I have a plan in place for that." Mr. Damas snorted. "I will seek absolution from a priest before I die and all the money I received in trade for Rafe's soul will be donated to the poor. It's not like I'll have a living heir anyway."

"Of all the bastards we've seen over the years, this guy takes the cake," Jared said in Stryker's mind. "Can we jut scare him to death and take his soul now instead of the kid's?"

"I think that's a great plan," Stryker replied with a smirk.

Mr. Damas' smile told Stryker the man thought Stryker was talking about his plan for absolution. He was in for a big surprise.

"Boys, take Mr. Damas away. Rafe doesn't need to see this," Stryker ordered. The Hounds started to move in, but Rafe stepped around Stryker in front of his father.

"No, you can't take my dad."

Mr. Damas gave Stryker a smirk over his son's shoulder.

"Rafe, your father sold your soul and yet you're trying to protect him."

"He's my dad," Rafe replied, shrugging as if that explained it all.

"You're protected now, little one," Stryker said gently as he moved closer to his gorgeous mate. He reached out to touch the man, but froze when Rafe shrank back. "Don't be afraid of me; I'm not going to hurt you."

"You're evil," he whispered. "It's all in the name, isn't it? You're a minion of hell."

"We're not evil," Stryker replied, feeling his heart sink. He was used to this reaction, but he never thought he would have to explain what he was to his mate. "I can explain everything later, but right now we're on a deadline."

"A deadline?" Rafe asked, obviously confused.

"Yeah, when we're sent to collect a soul, we only have a few hours before they send in another team."

"There are more of you?"

"I promise you, Rafe, I'll explain everything later," Stryker said gently as he reached out and pushed a blond curl off Rafe's forehead. "We need to get you to safety until this all gets resolved."

Rafe didn't shrink away this time. The blush that covered his face when Stryker touched him made Stryker's cock hard. As if Rafe sensed Stryker's reaction, his gaze shifted toward Stryker's groin and the man's blush deepened. Stryker tried not to smile at the idea his mate was attracted to him.

"The deal was for his soul, not mine." Mr. Damas snorted. "You can't protect him."

"I can, and I will," Stryker said, snarling at the man as he turned and pushed Rafe behind him at the same time.

"We can't take a clean soul to hell, no matter the deal you made. I'm not even sure that deal can be made. I will do what you failed to do as a father . . . keep your son safe. But you, you son-of-a-bitch, you're going with my crew to hell."

"I wasn't part of the deal, and I'm not dead."

"That can be fixed quite easily." Stryker chuckled, but stopped when he heard Rafe gasp behind him. He turned so only Rafe could see him and winked at his little mate. Rafe raised an eyebrow, his concern over the situation evident in his expression. Stryker addressed his teammates. "Jackson and Braedan, take Mr. Damas away. Jared and Tristan, you're staying with us until we can talk with Dante and fill him in on what's going on."

"You got it, Stryker," Jackson said as they advanced on Mr. Damas.

"No, you can't do this," Mr. Damas yelled, looking around the room frantically to find some means of escape. "This wasn't the deal! Don't take me, take my son."

"And you wanted to save that bastard?" Stryker asked gently as he turned and leaned over to look into Rafe's face as his brothers dragged away the still-screaming Mr. Damas. "I can't imagine how you are this pure after growing up with that madman."

"It wasn't so bad," Rafe replied, craning his neck to see around Stryker. "He pretty much just ignored me. I always wondered why it didn't seem like he wanted me. So this actually explains a lot."

"Why were you still willing to go in his place after finding out what he'd done to you?"

"He's the only family I have left," Rafe whispered as tears formed in his eyes. "If my family doesn't even love me or want me, what's there to live for?"

"I want you," Stryker answered moving so that they were eye level. He looked into his mate's eyes, even as Rafe hung his head. "In every way one man can want another."

"You're gay too?" Rafe asked with a giggle as he wiped away the tears in his eyes. "I don't understand any of this. Well, I guess I understand part of it, but this is really, really confusing."

"I know, little one, and I promise to explain everything to you. But for right now, I need you to trust me. We need to get out of here."

Rafe searched his face for a few moments before nodding. "Okay. I mean what could you possibly do or have planned for me that's worse than eternity in hell?"

"Wow, that's the most convoluted reasoning to trust someone I've ever heard," Stryker answered sarcastically. "It's not because I've just saved you from hell, or am trying to right this wrong? Or fuck, that you want me as much as I want you? No, it's because there's nothing worse than hell."

"I'm sorry, but what do you expect from me?" Rafe asked, the tears overflowing his eyes now and running down his cheeks.

Stryker reached out to wipe them away, not stopping this time when Rafe flinched away from him. "You're right, I'm sorry, Rafe."

"It's okay," Rafe replied. He reached a tentative hand toward Stryker's face.

Stryker froze and held his breath. Go ahead, he thought. Touch me. Yes, that's it. You feel the connection too, don't you?

"Dude, this is wonderful chick flick shit, but we've gotta bounce," Jared said in Stryker's head. "I know I'm being a dick, but seriously, this situation will get a hundred times worse if another team shows up!"

"Right, good point," Stryker answered, then smiled at the look of confusion on Rafe's face. No doubt, his mate thought Stryker was talking to himself. "I'll explain later, Rafe. How quickly can you pack a couple of bags?"

"Five minutes," Rafe replied, but then paused before continuing. "I'm never coming back here again, am I?"

"I'm not sure, so err on the side of thinking you won't and maybe you will one day."

"Fair enough." Rafe gave a quick nod before rushing out of the room.

Stryker turned back to his two brothers still in Hound form. "Run back and get the car and our clothes. I'll hurry and help Rafe. We meet out front in five minutes."

"Watch your back, boss, we're kind of fond of you," Tristan said in their shared link.

Despite the note of sarcasm in his brother's voice, Stryker could tell Tristan was worried.

"Watch your own asses, guys," he replied, looking at them each in turn before heading in the direction Rafe had gone a few moments earlier. Following his mate's scent, he stopped in the doorway of Rafe's room. He stood there, leaning against the door frame, and watched his little mate rush around. Rafe zipped up a duffle bag then looked up, obviously sensing Stryker's presence.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Rafe asked, his voice breaking in a way that had Stryker swallowing a groan.

"How old are you, Rafe?"

"Twenty," Rafe answered then squished his eyebrows together and looked at the clock. "No, it's after midnight, I'm twenty-one."

"It's your birthday; that makes sense." Stryker rubbed his chin. While the legal age for an adult might be eighteen, according to Hell, you weren't an adult whose soul could end up there until you were twenty-one.

"Have you never had anyone look at you like that before?" he asked, addressing Rafe's initial question, trying to control his instant and overwhelming urge to touch his mate, rubbing his scent to mark him.

"I don't think so," Rafe said quietly, obviously confused. "No one has ever looked at me like they wanted to eat me."

Stryker felt a wicked smile crossing his lips. "I do want to eat you up. But not in the way I think you mean, Rafe. I want you."

"You want me to do what?"

"No, baby." Stryker chuckled as he moved toward his mate. "I want you. I want to touch you. I'm dying to kiss you."

"Then no. No one's ever looked at me like that before," Rafe whispered as Stryker pulled his mate in his arms. "My dad never let me out of the house, I had tutors and was home schooled. I'm a virgin."

"Oh god, you're killing me," Stryker moaned as he leaned down to claim Rafe's mouth.

"Please don't," Rafe whimpered before Stryker could kiss him.

Stryker pulled back and looked into his mate's wide eyes.

"I don't even know your name."

"Stryker. Stryker Magnus," he replied quietly. "Does it matter?"

"I think I should know your name before you kiss me," Rafe stated as his little body shook in Stryker's arms.

"Well now you know. May I kiss you now?"

"Oh, yes please," Rafe answered, lifting his chin.

Stryker lowered his head and gently brushed his lips against his little mate's. When Rafe gasped, Stryker took advantage of the moment to slide his tongue into Rafe's mouth. Stryker moaned as he deepened the kiss. His mate tasted every bit as good as Stryker always imagined.

Stryker just about lost his sanity when Rafe reached up and wrapped his arms around Stryker's neck. He grabbed Rafe's ass and yanked his little mate up, wrapping his legs around Stryker's waist. In that moment, Stryker felt a bliss like he never had in his hundred-twenty-plus-years.

"Oh, god, I don't know what's . . . ." Rafe hissed, humping his hips against Stryker's when they broke the kiss.

Stryker opened his eyes to stare into Rafe's wide, green eyes. He knew his scent was driving Rafe half insane, even if Rafe didn't know why. With everything Rafe had just been through, making out should be the last thing on his mind. But Rafe couldn't control the raging hormones running through him when he smelled his mate. It took him a few moments to realize that his mate was in the throws of his first orgasm with Stryker.

"Let go, baby," Stryker cooed, reaching in between them to rub Rafe's hard cock through his pants. "Ride the feelings, Rafe. I've got you baby, I won't let you fall."

"I feel like I'm going to explode," Rafe moaned, pushing his dick harder into Stryker's hand.

Stryker tried to focus solely on his little mate's pleasure, but started to shake with the desire to claim Rafe. In over a century of life, he had never seen anything more exquisite than watching the man in his arm in the throes of passion.

"Come for me, my little mate," Stryker said as he leaned over and started licking and sucking the side of Rafe's neck. That was all it took. Rafe screamed out his release, thrusting his hips forward a few more times before slumping into Stryker's arms. "I've got you, baby. It's okay, I promise."

He repeated the words over and over again, stroking Rafe's back until he felt him calm, until he realized his mate had passed out in his arms. Thankfully, Rafe weighed about as much as a loaf of bread, and Stryker was more than strong enough to carry him. Rafe would get used to the intensity of orgasms between mates; it far surpassed anything any human could experience with another human.

Chuckling to himself, he wrapped one arm around Rafe and grabbed the two bags. As he headed out the bedroom door, he paused and backed up a few feet.

A picture of a woman sat on Rafe's bedside table. Rafe's mother? Stryker reached over snatched it up. It was the only picture in the room; it had to be important to him. Smiling at the feel of Rafe in his arms, Stryker headed outside to meet up with his brothers. Now that he'd found Rafe, he'd never willingly give the man up, and he'd do anything to keep him safe.