Guarded by the hell houn.., p.1
Guarded: By the Hell Hound (The North Shore Fae Book 2), page 1
GUARDED
BY THE HELL HOUND
A. S. GREEN
Copyright © 2019, 2022 A.S. Green
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. Criminal copyright infringement is investigated by the FBI and punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.00.
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
Cover art by Gombar Cover Design.
Created with Vellum
CONTENTS
Glossary
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
About the Author
Also by A. S. Green
GLOSSARY
The Black Castle - The ancient human society that originated with St. Patrick in Ireland and was promulgated by his followers down through the ages. Its single purpose is to rid the world of the fae on the basis that their existence is an unnatural abomination and an affront to God. The name of the group originates from the coastal castle ruins in County Wicklow, where some legends say St. Patrick first came to shore as a missionary.
Fae - also faerie/s. The general and collective term for all the races of the faerie realm.
Danu - a deity in the Celtic pantheon; the mother goddess. Creator of the highest-ranking fae: the seelies, fae hounds, succubi, and banshees. Often invoked.
Seelies - Historically the ruling faerie race. Families are conservative and proud. Individuals have varying abilities to create glamours designed to confuse others’ perceptions of reality. The seelies are easily identified by their lavender eyes.
Hell Hounds - also fae hounds, or simply the hounds. Fae of dual nature sometimes appearing as human, other times appearing as a terrifying creature resembling a wolf the size of a small horse, with blazing red eyes and great strength. At the time of St. Patrick, the hounds were in servitude to, and the guard dogs for the seelies. Though they later rebelled and earned their independence, the hounds retained their natural instinct to protect, particularly their anamcharas (fated mates).
Succubi - (singular succubus) a type of fae known for beauty and music, for communicating through dreams, and for harvesting emotional energy from their prey.
Banshees - a type of fae identified by their amber eyes, youthful faces, and snow white hair. Banshees are reclusive and generally avoided because they only appear to herald an imminent death.
Pookas - a type of “lesser fae;” skilled shape shifters that prefer the form of a rabbit, colt, or beautiful black-haired woman. A pooka will lead someone away from harm or, just as easily, kill them herself.
Nuckelavees - horse-like demons that emerge from the sea to cause havoc on land.
Kelpies - a type of “lesser fae;” water spirits that live in the oceans, lakes, and streams. They naturally appear as horses but can shape shift into a man or woman, though they often retain their hooved feet.
Brownies - a type of “lesser fae” that originated from Scotland before settling in Ireland. They remain invisible to everyone, except those whom they trust and, when seen, resemble little old men covered in a thick coat of fur.
Redcaps - evil, murderous goblins who get their name from dipping their caps into the blood of their victims. Reclusive and opportunistic with no known loyalties, they live in colonies along the borders between countries. The one colony that settled in North America resides on the border between Minnesota and Canada.
Dryads - a type of “lesser fae;” tree nymphs. The Irish druids took their name from the dryads after having received a gift of their magic. The dryad’s song calls all other fae to a faerie ring.
Anamchara (AHN-am KAR-ah) - Irish word meaning soul mate; fated mate.
Tír na nÓg (TEER-na-NOEG) - Irish name for the land of everlasting youth; the fae’s version of heaven.
Mo cuisle (mah KOOSH-lah) - Irish term of endearment. Literally “my pulse.” Shortened form of a cuisle mo chroidhe, or “pulse of my heart.”
Cailín (Cah-LEEN) - Irish word for girl.
Glamour (GLA-mer) - n. enchantment; magic. v. to glamour. The act of creating something by means of magic or enchantment.
1
DECLAN
Thursday Afternoon in Late November
Declan MacConall sat on the examining table in Doc O’Se’s office, the only medical clinic that served the fae community in northern Minnesota. It seemed he’d been sitting there forever, but there was no clock in the room to test his theory. Its absence was likely intentional. He wondered how long he should wait, and if maybe Doc had forgotten him.
The paper crinkled under his bare ass, and he considered walking that bare ass out into the hallway to ask about the hold up.
His anxiety kicked up a notch when he wondered if it had been even longer than he thought, and that perhaps it was after five o’clock. Could the clinic have closed? Had everyone gone home, leaving him to sit there?
Doc wouldn’t do that, would he?
Why not? Your brother Cormac may be home now, but he left ye for fifty years. He didn’t even look back.
The air conditioning unit hummed in hyperdrive, creating enough cold air to raise the golden hairs on his arms. “It’s bloody November,” he yelled at the ceiling.
There was a click and a soft chuckling behind him as Doc walked in. Doc was a seelie—the faerie race that had adapted best to the human world. All of his staff members were seelies, as well. If you couldn’t tell from their lavender eyes, their formal manners were always a good tip-off.
“I’ll tell Mary to turn off the A/C. She must have glanced at your chart and thought you’d run on the warm side.”
Declan’s body relaxed. He couldn’t blame the new receptionist for the mistake. It was actually quite considerate, but it had been years since his body temperature had run as warm as the rest of his race. Salvia had a way of messing up a whole lot of things for a hell hound—more so than it did for humans. Trying to beat his addiction was a full-time job, making his internal thermostat the least of his worries.
“Now, I’ve reviewed your test results, and—”
Whatever Doc was saying was lost on Declan because someone else had entered the room. He didn’t have to look. It was Rowan McNeely. Nurse Rowan McNeely.Not only did Declan know her scent, but every time she was near, his head filled with so much noise he could barely think, let alone hear. It was like being caught in a tornado, or sticking his head in a washing machine on spin cycle.
He quickly glamoured a paper gown to cover his nakedness. As a rule, seelie females were sheltered and naive, but Rowan was different. She was a nurse, so obviously she’d seen a lot. Covering up was, therefore, much less for her modesty and more about his own vanity.
For the last two years, Doc had been sending Rowan to Declan’s house to give him his monthly injections. Every time she showed, Declan layered on the clothing. Though he’d put some weight back on in recent months, he hated for her to see how thin he still was.
It was too late now, though. She’d surely got a good look at his back when she came in the room, and the paper gown didn’t add much bulk.
“Son?” Doc asked.
Declan jerked his head up. “What?”
“Did you hear anything I said?”
“I’m sorry. I must have spaced out for a second.” He did that a lot when it came to Rowan. He didn’t know if it was the way her hair reminded him of the sunrise, or the regal way she carried her height, or the slender grace of her pale neck. When she conducted her house calls, he found himself staring at her neck a lot.
Doc furrowed his brow and asked Declan to remove his glasses. When he did, Doc pulled up Declan’s eyelid and flashed a small intense light at his pupil. It was so bright, Declan jerked his head away.
“Are you feeling okay?” Doc asked, this time a little more loudly.
“Other than being blinded? Yeah. Stupendous.”
Doc frowned and put the little flashlight back in his pocket. “What I was saying was that I’d like to start weaning you off the opiate antagonists and intensify your treatment in terms of counseling, lifestyle changes, and the like. I don’t want you to trade one addiction for another. You need to start thinking about your future.”
Declan repressed the low growl that struggled to break free from his chest. Ever since his parents were slaughtered in their own kitchen, he’d lost faith in the future. What he needed was for everyone to stop fussing over him. If he relapsed, so what? They were all going to die anyway. Why delay the inevitable?
“We can start this weekend,” Doc said. “Trial run. You’ll need to talk to your brothers about it because I’ll want someone to be monitoring you closely, around the clock.”
Declan slipped his glasses back on his face. “My brothers will be gone this weekend.”
Doc leaned back in surprise. “Both of them?”
“Cormac’s getting married.”
“I see!” Doc exclaimed, his whole face brightening. “Wonderful news! I hadn’t heard. You’ll want to attend, of course.”
“I wasn’t gonna go.” He had his reasons. The least of them being that it all seemed so pointless. Cormac and Meghan had both been nearly killed two short months ago. Losing a partner would have been bad enough. Why put yourself through the pain of losing a spouse?
“What are you talking about?” Rowan asked, taking two steps closer to the examination table.
At the sound of her voice, Declan’s gaze, which had been intentionally focused on the floor, jerked up to her face. As a rule, he was pretty good at reading faces.
Rowan McNeely had the same pale lavender eyes as all the seelies, but unlike the typical cool arrogance of their race, her eyes always carried an intelligent warmth. Except for now. Right now, they flashed at him with disapproval.
“Are you insane?” she asked. “You can’t miss your own brother’s wedding.”
Declan looked back at the floor. “Cormac’s okay with it. Meghan, too. It’s not going to be anything big, and they only need one witness.”
“But should you be home alone?” Rowan asked, and her voice shot through him like an arrow. He hated how she worried about him. It wasn’t natural. He should be the one to worry over her. “I mean…” she added hesitantly. “Is it safe?”
He forced himself to look up at her again, and he gave her a wry smile. “Now, love, when was safe ever fun?”
Her face flushed a lovely shade of pink, and he saw her work to swallow.
“Rowan makes a good point,” Doc said. “And I would like you to start as soon as possible. If Aiden is willing to loan out his room for the weekend, how about I arrange for some in-home care to monitor your progress in their absence?”
“Whatever.” Declan honestly didn’t care. It was easier not to, and he needed to speed this up. The room was small and Rowan’s presence was starting to fuck with his equilibrium. It would not be cool to suddenly keel over.
“Ms. McNeely?” Doc asked turning toward her suggestively. “Is your schedule open this weekend?”
What? Declan thought, realizing too late that his amenability had been a massive mistake.
“NO!” Both Declan and Rowan simultaneously blurted out their refusal, then they jerked their heads to look at each other in surprise. Declan’s face flashed with heat, and he watched as Rowan’s cheeks flooded with color.
“Um. What I meant,” Rowan said apologetically and tugging at her pale green scrubs, “was that my father expects me home on the weekends.”
Declan tried not to snort in derision. The male seelies were, as a rule, strict and overbearing. He’d heard stories that Rowan’s father was worse than most, and he resented the fact that fathers like hers survived while his lay moldering in the ground.
“I can wait until my brothers get back to start the weaning.” Declan hoped he sounded more rational than frantic, because being alone in his house with Rowan McNeely… He couldn’t think of anything more agonizing.
Doc looked at him like he was being ridiculous. “Are you sure? I’ve got other options.” Then he started thinking out loud, running through his potential staff alternatives. “Fiona has small children at home. I couldn’t ask her to leave them for a weekend. Ciera hasn’t had a day off this week, but then again… Maybe she wouldn’t mind the overtime…”
“Ciera would be fine,” Declan said, grateful to have dodged the Rowan-shaped bullet. “I wouldn’t want to burden Ms. McNeely if she has family issues. Ask Ciera to come.”
“Wait!” Rowan said abruptly. “I can do it. It’s no burden.”
Declan and Doc both blinked in surprise at her sudden change of course.
“It’ll be fine,” she continued, as if trying to convince herself. “I’m perfectly capable. I’ll figure something out with my father.”
Declan had no doubts whatsoever about Rowan’s nursing capabilities. Out of all of Doc’s nurses, she had the best touch. She never had to poke him twice to hit the vein. It was everything else that tied him in knots.
“Good.” Doc sounded relieved. “You were already scheduled to give him his injection tomorrow.” Then he turned toward Declan. “Let’s have her stay a few days… See how you do without the treatment… If it turns out you’re not ready, she’ll be there to see you through, and we can reassess. If things go well, she’ll be there to manage your diet and note your vitals so she can report back to me next week.”
Doc smiled broadly—nearly triumphantly—as he added, “I’m glad we got that settled.”
Settled? What a joke.
Declan was feeling a whole lot of things at the moment. Settled didn’t even make the list. As much as the thought of Rowan spending the night in his house made his blood sing, the last thing he needed was for her to witness him screaming and curled up in a corner when the anticipated injection didn’t come.
What would she think of him then?
2
ROWAN
Thursday Evening
Rowan McNeely sat in her Mini Cooper outside the clinic and turned up the heat. A trickle of adrenaline that was half fear, half anticipation was seeping through her veins, making her whole body tremble. She curled her hands around the steering wheel for support. What a colossal disaster her life was turning out to be!
She blamed Doc for this latest debacle. Ciera, too. The way Rowan figured it, she wouldn’t be in this predicament if Doc hadn’t suggested Ciera as the alternative for Declan MacConall’s weekend care.
This was because, two months ago, when Rowan had been out with Ciera and Fiona at Delizioso, Declan had walked in with his brothers. It was the night the banshee had shown up—which should have been the moment that made the deepest impact. Instead, what Rowan remembered most clearly was Ciera’s commentary on the MacConalls’ entrance. “Mmmm, honey. All three of those brothers make my cunny quiver, but that middle one… By Danu, he could take me allll the way home, if you know what I mean.”
Rowan got her meaning just fine, thank you. In fact, Rowan’s face went so blazing hot at Ciera’s meaning that she had to guzzle down her glass of water.
Until that moment, if anyone had asked her, Rowan would have denied having a jealous bone in her body. That was because, until that life-changing moment, she had no idea how deeply her monthly visits with Declan MacConall had affected her.
Maybe it was the intensity of his stares that left their mark, or how his beautiful gray eyes always flicked away the second she looked up. Maybe it was the careless tousle of his dark auburn hair, or how surprisingly soft it was when it brushed along her hand as she walked her fingertips along the edge of his trimmed beard, feeling the lymph nodes in his neck, or checking for his pulse. Maybe it was the way she felt that pulse quicken every time she touched him, matching her own.
Unfortunately she was a seelie and Declan MacConall was a fae hound, what many called a hell hound. Her family—her clan—would never approve of such a match, no matter how strongly she felt.
Rowan drove home from the clinic, then pulled into the circular drive, passing the sign at the gate that marked her home as Dún Laoghaire Manor.
