Hell Hound Puppies Novels & Stories

“Hellhounds?” I ask, slowly, not sure if my hearing is working correctly. “What exactly are – I thought they were stories. I mean, aren’t they just myths?” I can hear the sounds of ripping flesh behind me and despite my identity as a wolf shifter along with the darker impulses it brings, the vicious tearing sounds from behind me make my blood curl. “Myths?” Their leader studies me. “Hellhounds are not myths. They are dangerous beasts. Intelligent and blood thirsty. They are also the best demonic trackers.”

His canines gleamed, dripping for death. His wolf lunged. Roman’s was ready—A white winter breed. They collided in the center of the room—over me. Blood filled the air as Roman’s snarl vanished. My vision swayed from fear until darkness swallowed me. Even then, in the black, I prayed Hermes made it out alive. *** I don’t know how long I drifted, but my wolf stirred when I felt him close. His shadow loomed, already shifted back. His breath ragged, his body streaked with blood that wasn’t all his. His wolf had been savage, primal, something that should have terrified me.

Each step sent a jolt of pain through my calves, like my muscles were stretching beyond what they were meant to hold. I stopped when the scent hit me. Wet earth. Pine. And something sharp and animal that made my mouth water and my stomach turn. A growl rippled through the darkness. I spun, heart slamming against my ribs. “Hello?” Stupid. Human. Weak. The growl came again, closer. Yellow eyes flickered between the trees. Then another pair. And another. Wolves. Too big. Too many. Their bodies moved wrong too fluid, too aware. I backed up slowly, my heel catching on a root. The moment I stumbled, they lunged.

I scooped up a fallen branch, as it was the only weapon available, and held it high. “Shoo, go away,” I said, brandishing the large stick. Another round of growls and snarls filled the air. I was in deep shit. Spinning in a slow circle, I kept my attention on the creatures as more and more glowing eyes appeared through the fog and trees. One of them advanced, stepping into a beam of moonlight. My breath hitched. It was massive, like a wolf shifter, covered in reddish-black fur with a row of spikes along its spine. Saliva dripped from its mouth. The crimson glowing pupils flickered as if made of flame. A single word popped into my mind—Hellhounds.

It actually reminded me of the Siberian wolves from movies. "It's not a horse nor a unicorn," Willy laughed as he joined us. My eyes widened when he touched the top of the cage and shook it. The animal stirred but didn't lift its head. "We found it the other day in the street wounded. It's untamed and really aggressive. He's under medication while we tend the wounds, and he's been sleeping for ten hours now." "Are you sure that's a dog? Is that a Siberian? A... wolf?" I never saw one in person, but I couldn't believe they were this huge. The animal was yet to rise on its feet, and I knew it would take a lot of space.

Using my sword skills, I tear through their bodies, slicing their heads and limbs, but they keep coming. My body bows as claws dig into my back. Falling forward, I manage to rip away from the claw and slice at the hound, but another grips my arm. I kick out as my sword clatters onto the floor and rip another hound’s arm. Its grey body shudders, and its wolflike snout curls. Outside of their human forms, hellhounds are not pretty creatures. They are gray, with large, stout, pitbull bodies, very little hair, and heads are round with tiny cauliflower ears, beady dark eyes, and puglike snouts.

“I’m not going anywhere with you until you explain.” He swallowed hard, like the truth itself had weighed his tongue down. “Those things were werewolves. The ones you saw today; we call them hellhounds. They’re sent to the human world to destroy their target. And right now, you, Joyce, are that target. I swear I’ll answer all your questions, but not here. Now is not the time.” Hellhounds? The word alone chilled me. The beasts that attacked my car were obviously too huge to be dogs and too terrifying to be wolves. All four of them were at least five feet tall. It gave me chills to even think they could come back.

Burned meat and blood are so old that they don’t belong to anything natural. There is only one thing it can be. A name whispered in the Pit’s dark corners when the guards thought we were too broken to listen. Bloodborne Hounds. Bred in the dark and stitched together from dead wolves and dead men. Made for one purpose: to tear the right out of anything too stupid to run.

Those damn eyes. Allie remembered the first time she saw a Hell hound. A shudder racked through her body as she remembered the screaming, the pain-filled moans, the struggle, the horror on everyone's faces as soon as disaster struck. She could recall back to the emotional pain, and oh, how young she was when the Omega first discovered what it was like to hurt. To lose. To hurt in ways, you shouldn't at such a tender age.

Well, I'm not bragging but when it comes to good looks his shithead is nothing compared to my ass, I mean how much more if it was my face as a basis of comparison? I don't know what it is but for some reason, I felt a sense of responsibility to the poor innocent lives, so I snap my fingers and summon my hellhounds. They are my loyal pets. They have this mangled black fur, glowing red eyes, super strength and speed, and ghostly or phantom characteristics. Pretty cool isn’t it? With a simple snap of fingers and a distinct whistle, they instantly come to me and for more than a century of having them as my pet, just now I realized that they all have a foul odor, so disgusting I can't bear to get