Helluva Hound Romane & Geschichten

Mikhail struggles within their hold, screaming for Nevaeh, but the hellhounds keep hitting him until he slumps into a faint. As one of the hounds lifts her in his arms, I try to get to her, but another hellhound grabs me by the neck and slams me on the floor. My vision blurs, but somehow I manage to stay conscious until the hellhound hits me one last time, and the world disappears.

I feel the panic start to rise up in my chest and between running for my life and trying to keep calm well it's becoming difficult, no Calm down Bree this is just a dream I tell myself. A dream I’m dreaming and any minute I’m going to wake up, that seems to be short-lived when I feel something hot blast right past my face, holy shit that felt very fucking real, what the fuck was that? I reluctantly peer over my shoulder and instantly regret it, there are at least 8 people screaming and chasing after me. Where the fuck am I? And what do these people want? As I’m running I pass a sign that says Welcome to the city of Houndgrave known as the home of hell hounds. WHAT THE FUCK i scream out loud,

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I’m five foot ten. He whines and grumbles, and I stroke his massive head. “Yes, I know. She is ok,” I say to him and he huffs before he stands and moves to sit in between my legs. The Hellhounds can take down a wolf with ease. Their bites have the sting of icy death and they secrete venom that can kill a werewolf. Fortunately, they are extremely loyal creatures. Destinee has Anubis and I have always had Set. But he can’t swim in the depths, so Gaia has been keeping him for me.

It spreads a vibration through my body that suddenly makes me feel like I am the one standing in the cold, and it only worsens when I hear him say, “You say cruel things just like everyone else. And yet… all I want to do is touch you. I want to smell you. I want— Give me permission. Please. Would you like me to beg, wife? Go on my knees?” He looks pathetic the way he’s staring up at me now. I can see his eyes and the devotion and madness in them— I don’t understand it. I don’t understand why he would look at me like that. I want to feel terror by it, yet instead, my entire body wants to see it. This… Hellhound man, on his knees. For me. I can already imagine how exhilarating it would feel fo

“How do the hellhounds work?” “What do you mean?” “Well, Teuf is a hellhound, but his littermate, Marley, is not.” “They’re chosen. Just like we are. I know the cats don’t have the strict structure that we have, but you still have your Alpha born,” Celeste said, and Jill nodded. “It’s the same. The stronger cats become Alphas, and the stronger dogs become hounds.” “Lineage?” “If a hound mates with a hound, they will produce hounds. They bond to their wolf for life, serve the Moon Goddess whenever she bids them, and have only one mate. Ever.”

The Hellhound scratched at the door leaving claw marks all over the glass. She looked around the greenhouse trying to find anything to help her. Just her luck as she went into the greenhouse that was for food and healing ingredients. She grabbed a shovel and braced herself as the Hellhound continued to slam against the door. The glass broke into a hundred shards as the Hound ran through and made a beeline for her.

Fennel and Philip looked at each other before walking toward the manor’s entrance. Suddenly, ten burly men with tattoos all over their bodies rushed out of the manor. They were outrageously stout like gorillas! Fennel and Philip stopped at the same time. The former stared coldly at the ten burly men rushing out and said softly, “Be careful. These ten people are the Hellhounds of the Hall of Evil, the top ten killing machines under the Dark Angels. Their combat level should be between the third and fourth zones. Although it’s not particularly high, their bodies have undergone special transformations. Once their power is fully unleashed, they can reach the peak strength of the fourth zone!”

The thick, heat-shielded blast doors of the pod blew outward, tumbling across the ruined road. A thick, viscous green gel spilled from the pod, pooling on the hot asphalt. And then, the Hound stepped out. It was a nightmare sculpted from human DNA. It stood nearly eight feet tall, its musculature grotesquely swollen and hyper-dense. Its skin was not flesh, but a overlapping lattice of pale, bone-white cartilage and dark, metallic scales. It had no eyes, only a smooth, sloping dome of thick bone protecting its brain. Deep, jagged gill-like slits lined its neck, flaring aggressively as it processed the chemical and thermal signatures of the air.