What the Heart Haunts

Chapter One


Nalla didn’t do blind dates. Especially not on a night where the Hunt was riding her strong. They’d run tonight, she could feel it all the way down to her toes. She clenched her fingers around the beer in her hand and tried not to remember the thrum of magic pulsing down her spine, the wild bays of Hounds filling her ears. She blew out a sharp breath and wished, not for the hundredth time, that she had a god to pray to for strength.

She was tired of fighting it all alone.

But Herne would no more accept her prayers. She lifted the bottle and drank a deep swallow, trying to let the alcohol burn away the call of the beast inside her. Her Hound had never understood, never would. Exile didn’t sit right with a dog who’d happily curl back up at her master’s feet.

“Nalla, right?” A tall, bushy haired man said as he slipped into the booth across from her; brown hair fell across his eyes in waves. It hung nearly to his chin, messy. Scruffy.

And a dark knowledge curled up her spine at the sight of him. His eerie gold eyes were the same flash of a wolf’s at midnight, with nothing but the moonlight reflecting in that haunting gaze. A Hound of the Hunt. She knew it by the dog-like rumble of his voice, the answering wild in his eyes. The way her beast clamored in her breast, trying to break free. Run, run, run, it screamed at her, in deep, baying barks that told her she’d been banished from the sky for too long if her control was this far gone.

Her lips pursed and she fought the urge to get up and walk out of the bar, leaving him sitting there alone. She should have known this was a set up. “And what would you have of me?”

He looked startled, gold eyes flashing slightly as he glanced around. Finally, his focus settled back on her. “You are Nalla Underwood, right?”

Nalla froze, her breath locked tight in her chest. He didn’t know. Oh. She exhaled on a rush. Her fingertips itched to reach across the table and run over the strong line of his jaw, down his neck, to press that black shirt against his chest and feel the muscles she knew she’d find there. He was a Hound, an actual Hound of the Wild Hunt, sitting in front of her. She’d never thought she’d see that again. She bit down on her bottom lip and held herself back.

Why had Herne sent a clueless pup down to her? Or was this one nothing but a stray?

Either way, tonight she could have what she hadn’t had since her exile. The thought made her wet her lips, moisture pooling between her thighs. It would be the closest thing to a true Running that she’d had in a good, long while.

“I am. I’m guessing you’re my date?” Nalla tipped her beer up at the waitress as the woman passed, “I’ll take another.” Nalla flicked her gaze to him.

He shook his head. “Just water for me.”

“So your name is?”

“Uh. Khost. Khost Wylde.”

She almost smiled. He had to be from Herne; she hadn’t heard that last name passed around in awhile. Normally, if a Hound was sent down to bargain with a human, they used that name. It wasn’t something a pup that had wandered loose from the pack would know. Khost. She let the name roll around in her brain. Ethereal. Breathy. Like the wind unleashed on a night made for a good Hunt.

Nalla wondered if he would miss running with the Hunts, because he wasn’t going back. Not after tonight.

She let the barest hint of a smile curve her lips. “Pleasure to meet you. You’ll have to forgive me, I don’t normally do the blind date gig.” He blushed a little and she laughed. Yeah. She hadn’t taken him for much of a dater either.

Then again, Herne never had liked his Hounds courting...well anyone.

Hounds of the Wild Hunt couldn’t have mixed loyalties and sex had a tendency to cloud judgment. She’d know. After all, it was that particular sin that had gotten her lover beheaded with Herne’s axe and her sentenced to exile among the mortals. It’d been a hellish four hundred years too. Alone in a world where everyone else died.

Nalla shook her head. Khost had to be new. She didn’t recognize him and he obviously hadn’t been running long enough to be able to sense when another Hound was in his presence. She leaned over the table, elbows braced against the lacquered wood. “So Khost...do you really want to sit around a table all night, or would you rather take a walk with me? Live a little on the wild side.”

A grin slashed over her face, purely predatory. She made sure to put some magic behind her words. Herne had sent her a pup and she’d make sure that immortal bastard realized his mistake. After she’d wrung his Hound out and had the pup straggling after her like a dog for a bone, she might send old Herne a tip. If he wanted something from her, he should come get it himself.