Hell Breaks Loose: Hellhound Champions Book Four, page 1
Hell Breaks Loose
Hellhound Champions Book 4
Macy Blake
Copyright © 2021 by Macy Blake
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Cover and symbols designed by A.J. Corza, www.alexandriacorza.com
Editing by Desi Chapman, Blue Ink Editing
For my ACNH friends
Raymond’s for you.
Contents
Welcome to the Chosen Universe
1. Achim
2. Achim
3. Ozias
4. Achim
5. Ozias
6. Ozias
7. Achim
8. Ozias
9. Achim
10. Ozias
11. Achim
12. Ozias
13. Achim
14. Ozias
15. Ozias
16. Achim
17. Ozias
18. Achim
19. Ozias
Epilogue
Preview: Chosen Champions
Want more?
About the Author
Also by Macy Blake
Welcome to the Chosen Universe
The Chosen Universe is a group of interconnected series set in one universe. There is some overlap to the series, so it’s recommended to read the books in order. You can download a FREE reading order guide by clicking here.
Sweet Nothings: The Chosen One Prequel- When Sam Baker discovers a small child at his backdoor, he learns that a world of magic and shifters exists all around him— including the alpha werewolf he had a one night stand with years before.
The Chosen One Series- The mythical Chosen One is set to return with his eight guardians and correct the magical wrongs done centuries before.
Hellhound Champions Series- As the champions of the fire goddess, the hellhounds have one task: keep the secret of the supernatural world safe.
Magical Mates Series- After the Chosen One returns, magic is in the air, and shifters are finally finding their fated mates… with a little help on the side.
Chosen Champions Series- With the magical realm in chaos, a new set of champions emerges to keep the human world secure.
If you prefer to read in chronological order, check out the Chosen Universe Box Sets.
Achim
“I need four drafts, three single-shot whiskeys, six snakebites, and a strawberry daiquiri.” Shelly unloaded empty glasses from her tray as she rattled off her drink orders to Achim.
She was their best waitress for a reason. No way could Achim have remembered that many orders without writing them all down.
Achim pulled the handle of the beer tap, filling a glass somewhat expertly. It required his full and complete attention. Cody, Hair of the Dog’s actual bartender and the alpha-mate of the hellhound pack, stood at the other end of the polished wooden bar, expertly making cocktails while charming all the customers who had the pleasure of watching him work.
“Say again?” Achim asked, realizing suddenly that Shelly expected him to make the drinks she’d requested.
Shelly scowled. “Why do they put you behind the bar? You’re worse than Meshaq ever was.”
Achim shrugged and focused on the glass in his hand. Cody would be annoyed if he got too much foam on the top. “Could be worse. Want me to get Solomon?”
With a huff, she rounded the bar and rattled off the list to Cody. Achim grinned and returned his attention to the mug in his hand. Shelly knew as well as he did that their current alpha was a much larger disaster behind the bar than their former alpha ever had been, especially because it pushed Solomon over the edge when customers flirted with his mate.
“Four more,” Cody said to Achim as he slid down the bar and began filling the blender with ice.
“I’m on it.”
Cody laughed and took the one glass he’d managed to fill. “Nice job.”
“You make it look easy.”
“It is easy. You just have to be patient.”
And there was the rub.
Patient wasn’t a word anyone would use to describe Achim, especially not lately. With so much change going on in their world, his hellhound couldn’t seem to settle. Or maybe it was his human side. Achim honestly wasn’t sure. All he knew was he felt a bone-deep level of exhaustion. His entire pack did. They’d been run ragged the past few months with all the magic problems occurring in their realm.
He wouldn’t let his alpha-mate down, though. For Cody to ask for help behind the bar meant he was desperate. He normally didn’t like any of them working with him because it messed with his vibe.
Whatever that meant.
Achim grabbed another pint glass and held it beneath the tap. He tugged the lever once again, releasing another stream of the deep amber brew into the glass. Cody had chosen the variety himself from one of their local breweries. The customers seemed to love it.
Personally, Achim thought beer tasted like warm piss. Give him a whiskey any day of the week, not that alcohol did a lot for him. No, being a champion of a Goddess had a lot of perks. It also had a few downsides. Getting a buzz from booze wasn’t really in the cards.
With another nicely filled mug in hand, Achim turned to show off his mad skills to Cody, hoping to get another smile from his alpha-mate. His sigil activated at the same time, and searing pain shot up his arm. The handle slipped from his hand as his arm spasmed, and the mug shattered when it hit the ground.
Silence filled the bar.
All eyes were on him.
Achim fought to maintain control as the burning pain worsened.
“Oops, my bad,” Cody said loudly and with a laugh. “That’s what I get for letting these lugs help, isn’t it, boys?”
The regulars cackled, used to Cody’s teasing them about everyone else’s general lack of skill behind the bar. Cody mumbled under his breath, low enough that only his pack’s enhanced hearing would pick up the words. “Vice, here now.”
“I’ve got to go,” Achim said. He clenched his arm as he stepped over the glass and spreading puddle of beer. “Sorry for the mess.”
“What’s wrong?” Cody asked, keeping his voice quiet even as he blocked Achim’s path. His gaze drifted down to Achim’s arm, which he still held tight.
“I don’t know. I’m being called, though.”
The sigil meant the Goddess had a task for him, and it wasn’t something he could ignore. Even if her mark had never hurt before when she called him.
Vice hurried toward them from his position standing guard at the back of the bar. “What’s wrong?”
“The sigil doesn’t hurt, does it?” Cody hissed the question, never taking his eyes off Achim.
“No,” Vice said. “Of course not. The Goddess wouldn’t—”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought, but it’s hurting Achim.”
His packmates shared a glance. Cody returned his attention to Achim, his brows settling into an impressive glare.
“I’m fine,” Achim said. He released his hold on the sigil and ignored the searing pain. “I’ve got to go.”
Cody and Vice followed him as he hurried out of the bar into the chill winter air. Cody shivered, and Vice slipped off his leather jacket and handed it to him. Achim hadn’t bothered wearing a jacket. Unless the temperatures were downright frigid, they hampered his ability to fight. Plus, unlike Vice, he’d never been able to pull off the black-leather look. He always seemed like the guy who’d stolen his big brother’s jacket, even though he was one of the bigger members of his pack.
As a human, though, Cody did get cold. He glared at Achim, even as he slid his arms into the sleeves of the jacket and pulled it around him. He continued to follow Achim as he tried to find a place to open his portal.
The parking lot was too bright, with the huge floodlights Sol had installed a while back for safety. They made it so Achim had to go to the other side of the building to find a place away from any unsuspecting human eyes.
“Achim, please wait for Sol,” Cody said. He sounded scared, and Achim’s beast stirred. None of them liked it when Cody was upset.
The sigil burned sharply once more, and Achim couldn’t hide his wince. “That’s not how this works, Cody, and you know it. I’ll be back soon.”
He opened the portal, but instead of the floating red-and-orange circular flames that always appeared, it was an eerie icy blue.
“No fucking way,” Cody said. “You are not going in there. Not without Solomon or another member of the pack. Forget it.”
“Sol’s on a mission of his own,” Achim replied. “And the Goddess called me. Keep a close eye on him.” The last part Achim directed to his packmate, who stared at him with his forehead creased with concern.
Vice nodded. “Caution.”
Achim returned the nod before glancing at the unusual flames once more. Without another thought, he stepped through the portal and into a completely unfamiliar landscape. The portal closed behind him, separating him from his pack.
It shouldn’t have felt so final.
He shivered as he took in the view. In all his years as a hellhound, Achim had seen most of the human realm and quite a few others as well.
He’d never seen this before.
A barren, frozen
His instincts had spoken, loud and clear. He wasn’t to go near…
Before he could process further, a figure ran from between the trees, heading directly for him. A black cloak billowed around their body, floating almost unnaturally in the stillness of the frigid air.
Achim heard shouted words from a deep masculine voice, but in another first, he couldn’t understand a word the man said. He could understand all spoken languages. It was part of the hellhound gift. The Goddess made it so they could communicate with anyone, anywhere.
It took another moment for him to realize the man wasn’t the only thing in the woods. Hellhounds came out next, following the man—no, not following. Chasing.
Achim ran toward the danger, ready to help his fellow hellhounds apprehend whatever creature they chased. He’d learned in his many years as a champion that human-shaped creatures were often the vilest of all.
“For the love of Aeshma’s asshole, get the fuck out of here!”
With a crackling of static, the man’s voice suddenly translated itself. Achim prepared to shift… and couldn’t. His beast prowled inside him, ready to attack, but for the first time since he’d become a hellhound, it didn’t answer his call.
The man raised what looked like a giant gnarled stick and waved it around. The hellhounds howled and… got distracted? Ice flew around them, pelting them and providing enough of an obstruction to keep them from gaining ground on their target.
Achim kept his eyes on their prey, determined to help his brethren even as he tried to figure out what the hell was happening. It took him entirely too long to process, even as the creatures chasing the man tumbled into a pile and began attacking one another.
These weren’t hellhounds. Well, they were hellhounds. But not like him. No, they weren’t shifters. These were the original beasts… the beasts before they merged with their human counterpart to become the guardians of the human realm.
Which meant—
“Oh fuck.” Achim spun on his heel and ran, just as the man caught up with him.
He caught a glimpse of pink cheeks and full lips before the cloak hid the man’s face once more. He wanted another look but realized the hellhounds weren’t fighting one another anymore.
No, the distraction had only worked for a few seconds, and they were on the hunt again. No way in hell could they outrun the beasts. Achim knew exactly how fast they were since one resided inside him. He’d run as his hellhound many, many times, and his speed as a human was no match for his shifted form.
He scanned the landscape, hoping for some miracle. He even tried to activate the sigil on his arm, but nothing. Not even a tickle of awareness appeared, when the magic of the Goddess normally rushed to his defense. It didn’t surprise him. If his beast couldn’t respond to his call to shift, he doubted his ability to call a portal would be available to him.
Whatever this place was, he was stranded without his beast or his Goddess’s magic. He was cut off from his Goddess and his pack. Achim fought the urge to throw back his head and howl.
“There! Go!”
The cloaked man pointed, and they rushed toward a large, jagged cliff at the edge of the freaky forest. Achim didn’t question the strangeness of the landscape, as he could practically feel demon-dog breath on his neck.
The man scrambled up the cliff, nimble and fast. Achim attempted to follow, but his body was too bulky to gracefully climb. He managed to get out of range of the first snap of the hellhound’s jaws, but it was close enough to feel the terrifying huff of hot breath on his ankle.
Achim gripped the stone cliff face in front of him and tried to move faster.
“Hurry up!”
Achim glanced up. The man had already reached a small ledge. He knelt on it, his hand reaching out. Achim grabbed it the moment he could, and with a strength that seemed unnatural, even under the circumstances, the man pulled Achim up beside him.
The hellhounds leaped and snarled beneath them, unable to climb the almost sheer rock face.
“What the hell…?”
The man blinked at him. “Who are you?”
“Achim.”
The man inhaled, then scrunched up his nose like he’d caught the scent of something fouler than the hellhounds beneath them. “Human.”
Then he launched into a steaming rant that Achim once again couldn’t translate. Not that he needed the words to understand the tone.
“Who are you?” Achim asked when the guy paused to take a breath.
It earned him a disdain-filled look he’d only seen the likes of once before… when he’d met the prince of the fae realm.
“I am Ozias, Prince of Hell. And you’re not supposed to be here.”
Ozias
Half a dozen hellhounds snarled and snapped barely twenty feet beneath him. The giant black beasts salivated greedily, steam spewing from their mouths as they attempted to leap high enough to capture their prey. Their eyes glowed with red inner fire, so unlike the blue flames of Ozias’s magic. He snarled back at them, irritated once more at their general lack of intelligence. He was the Prince of Hell, for Hecate’s sake. Had they no sense of care for their own well-being?
And speaking of no sense of care, the giant lug of a human sat beside him, looking more confused than Vepar at heaven’s gates. Not that Ozias could entirely blame him. Humans didn’t come to the hell realm, as a general rule, and the veil between the human realm and Ozias’s home remained sealed. His runes would have alerted him to the danger, otherwise. Wouldn’t they?
Ozias thumped his staff onto the ground, but his magic refused to comply with his commands, making him wonder what, exactly, was happening. His power still existed. It coursed through his veins but refused to answer his call. If their realm was truly at risk, the hell beasts wouldn’t be wasting their time with him. There would be much tastier, and easier to access, prey.
He growled and let out another round of curses, which only served to rile the hell beasts further. Ozias still didn’t understand why his mother refused to put them down. Damned rabid dogs were good for nothing.
With a huff, Ozias tried his staff again. Barely a puff of magic emerged, not nearly enough to keep the hellhounds at bay. His attempt at creating an icy cage for them had resulted in little more than pelting them with snowballs. This time? He didn’t even get that much. Tiny little snowflakes dotted the beasts, serving absolutely zero purpose and providing not one single iota of distraction.
The elders were clearly having a little fun at his expense. It wasn’t the first time and wouldn’t be the last. Being Hecate’s son came with many rewards… and many more challenges. The elders wouldn’t mess with his mother. Oh no, they wouldn’t dare. The risks were too great, and her power and wrath were legendary. Her son, on the other hand, made an easy target, and as long as they didn’t personally do any permanent damage…
“Stay here,” Ozias commanded.
He stood and moved around the ledge, realizing a second later that the human hadn’t obeyed his order. He glared over his shoulder, his eyes shimmering with blue fire. Most creatures of his realm would have trembled before him at his show of power.
Achim simply crossed his bare arms over his massive chest and glared right back. “I am not yours to command, your highness.”
The last words were spoken with such disdain, even Ozias couldn’t mistake the tone. No one had ever dared speak to him in such a way. If it wouldn’t create a war, Ozias would leave the human to his fate. He’d make a delightful snack for the hellhounds, which would provide enough of a distraction for Ozias to plan his escape.
