Excerpt from:
THE FORBIDDEN LIFE OF ALEX MOORE
— A NOVELLA OF THE BEYOND

Obviously, the woman had no idea she was in danger. But she would. And soon, if Alex had the situation sized right.

He’d been on a parallel course with her for the last ten minutes. She and four dogs traveled down an isolated trail that snaked the mountain from its peak to the pitted road below. She trudged, head lowered, her focus elsewhere. No more than a hundred paces away, Alex and Caleb moved through the trees like shadows. Alex was aware of every snowflake that blustered in the wind, but she hadn’t noticed either one of them. Fortunately, neither had the dogs.

Alex glanced at the bloated sky pressing between the towering pines. It rode low to the ground, spewing fat snowflakes that stuck where they landed. What was the woman doing up here so close to dusk? With a blizzard chasing the encroaching dark? Alone?

And why did he care?

He wasn’t here to protect humans. He was here for the hellhounds. His number had been called to protect the secrets of the Beyond. He’d come to serve.

Assuming, of course, he could find the cursed creatures.

“Not very smart, is she?” Caleb muttered, drawing his attention. The cold made a plume of his breath.

Alex didn’t like that Caleb watched the woman, too. And he didn’t like that he didn’t like it.

“No,” he answered grimly.

She’d blundered into a situation she probably wouldn’t escape. He and Caleb had been told that most humans couldn’t see the hellhounds or hear their disturbing howl. Most, but not all. If she was one of the rare few that could, she’d have the advantage of knowing what came after her, but even if she avoided being eaten, she’d still have to die. No witnesses could be allowed.

Alex knew the rules. What soldier didn’t? But he didn’t like to think of this innocent female dying under either circumstance.

He watched her in bursts of color through the trees. Blue and pink and golden hair. Dressed in a puffy, sky-blue parka and a pink polka-dot cap with a yarn ball on top that bobbed as she walked, she looked like some sweet treat that would melt in the mouth.

Except for the rifle she carried, but that might be just for show. Odds were good that she didn’t even know how to use it. She certainly didn’t look like any killer Alex had ever seen, and he’d seen more than a few.

She probably felt safe, with her big dogs and the gun.

“I can’t believe they haven’t picked her off already,” Caleb said, mystified.

Alex couldn’t believe it either. He wanted to shake her, tell her to pay attention.

A loud crack came from a nearby tree and at last her head came up. She slowed, wiped her eyes, and focused on her surroundings. Had she been crying?

Why do you care?

The sun hovered low on the horizon, gathering deep shadows as it crept away, but the last rays shone valiantly bright. They silhouetted her in gray and evergreen.

Alex knew the moment she spotted him among the trees. She froze for an instant, then glanced away, her chest rising with an agitated breath. Quickly, she started walking again, this time with purpose. Good. Maybe she’d get out of here, away from the coming danger. He let out a low breath of relief, but at the same moment, the dogs caught sight of him and Caleb. They raised an alarm that could be heard for miles.

“That’ll do the trick,” Caleb said under his breath.

In answer, a hellhound bayed a long and blood-chilling warning. They were coming.

The woman wouldn’t know that because she couldn’t hear it. The dogs did, though. All four stilled for a heartbeat before they renewed their barking with rabid fervor. One enormous dog with a square head and a booming bark bounded off in the direction of the sound. The other three weren’t so big or eager to follow. They lagged behind, letting every predator on the mountain know where they were.

“Belle!” the woman called after the horse-dog and then, before she could catch her breath, the other three decided to go after it. “No!” she cried. “Come back!”

“Quiet,” Alex whispered, feeling the wind shift. In the icy blast, he smelled sulfur.

Her head whipped around as if she’d heard and she stared at him, wary. Her gaze shifted to Caleb in the background, then returned to Alex. Indecision flashed through her. She straightened her spine and squared her shoulders. A human gesture, learned from nature. When in danger, try to look big.

It wouldn’t help her.

Her rifle came up, but she was too flustered to take aim. She glanced at the dogs disappearing up the trail, then back to the men who may or may not present a threat, then down at a small, furry thing at feet that begged to be picked up.

Another bay echoed from the forbidding peaks. Hungry and vicious.

“Here they come,” Caleb said.

Alex didn’t need the warning. He could feel the chuff-chuff of their breath; see the lathered hides, the gaping jaws.

He cut his eyes back at the woman. She was bent over a tiny dog he hadn’t noticed earlier, trying to catch it as it hopped anxiously around her legs. It looked like a prancing toy. Every time she got ahold of it, the stupid thing twisted away, yipping like no one could hear it.

Alex didn’t think—he didn’t have time to think. He charged her in silence, hoping to scare her off without drawing the big dogs back. If he could get her to run, maybe he wouldn’t have to watch her die. Or worse, kill her himself.

Behind him, he heard Caleb curse. “What the fuck are you doing?”

More chilling bays shrieked through the twilight. Harsh. Bloody. Close. She looked up, saw him coming and tried to maneuver the dog she’d finally captured and her rifle all at once. He reached her before she had the chance, not that he thought she’d shoot him. It took mettle to pull the trigger on another human and she had no reason to suspect he wasn’t one.

He grabbed the barrel of her rifle and shoved it in the air. She pulled the trigger just as it cleared the top of his head. The blast burned his hand, rang in his ears, and told him he’d underestimated her. If he’d been a split second slower, he’d be dead.

The rifle’s kick pushed her back as he used his momentum to yank her forward. He caught her with his free arm, rifle gripped by both of them in the middle.

It brought her close. He could smell the clean scent of her shampoo, the warm fragrance of her skin, the sweet puff of her breath. Perceptions overwhelmed him, blocking out all else, and his fear highlighted each nuance. The coat padded her figure, but beneath she was small framed and lushly curved. Her breasts pressed against his chest, indescribably soft and weighted. His hips found the cradle of hers, rousing feelings that lit his nerve endings and heated his blood. All the while her scent wrapped around his thoughts like an opiate, guiding him to a place he’d never want to leave.

She stared at him with wide, blue eyes flecked with crystals of white and lavender. Long, golden-tipped lashes fringed them. He’d never seen anything so beautiful, so arresting. Did his have as many colors melded into them as hers?

The hellhounds howled again, a litany of terror that snapped him from the mesmerizing sensations.

“You need to run,” he said hoarsely, his gaze still trapped by hers, her body caught against his. Now was the time to let her go, to push her away. But neither of them moved. In her arms, the little dog growled and snapped at him. Under other circumstances, Alex might have laughed at its tactics.

But right now, hellhounds were coming. The loud and deep barks of her other dogs stopped on an abrupt yelp. The woman’s eyes widened in fear. At the same time, halfway down the slope to his left, trees shivered. As if something had brushed against them on its way to the bottom.

“Run,” he said, desperate now as all hope of chasing her quietly out of danger dissolved. His arms finally opened. “Run, you demented female.”