Page 16 of Dance in the Stones

“Damon.” Redford turned, holding out one of the mugs. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

Right. Of course. The talk. The one where Redford explained that the forced proximity had been nice, but he had a life to get back to, cases to work, and living in a tiny cottage in the Highlands with a hellhound he barely knew wasn’t in his next five-hundred-year plan.

Damon took the coffee, but his hound surged up his spine with such force he nearly dropped the mug.

No. Not like this. Tell him first. Tell him now.

“Wait.” The word just fell out. There was something about Redford that seemed to make that happen, but this time Damon was running with it. “Before you say whatever you’re going to say, I need…” Damon set the coffee down before he spilled it. “I need to show you something.”

Redford blinked, clearly thrown off whatever script he’d prepared. “Show me what?”

“Just…hold on a minute. Stay there, don’t go anywhere.”

Damon hurried back to his bedroom, his heart hammering against his ribs. The collar box sat exactly where it always did, tucked in the back of his closet behind a stack of books he’d never read and a jacket he’d worn twice. He’d avoided looking at it for three years. Avoided thinking about it most days. But he couldn’t deny, with so many of his kin already mated…I have to give this a try.

The black velvet was soft under his fingers as he lifted it out. There were no visible hinges or locks. Just a perfectly formed large box that was impervious to fire or magical intervention. Infused with Lord Hades’ power, it was a box attuned to the hellhound it was given to.

Last chance to back out, some rational part of his brain whispered. You could still pretend this is casual. You could still protect yourself.

His hound snarled at the thought, and honestly, Damon agreed with his furry side. He was done pretending or trying to protect himself from what could end up being the best thing that ever happened to him.

When he returned to the kitchen, Redford was exactly where Damon had left him, but his expression had shifted. He seemed less nervous and more curious now. His dark eyes tracked the box in Damon’s hands, and something flickered across his face.

Does he already know what this is? Damon couldn’t take a chance one way or another. He had to say his piece.

“Redford, I need to explain something about hellhounds.”

“Okay.” Redford set his own mug down, giving Damon his full attention.

Right. Where to start? Damon had never actually had to explain the whole ridiculous situation to someone who wasn’t pack and who didn’t already understand the rules.

“You know how most shifters can scent their mates?” Damon began, clutching the box like a lifeline. “How vampires recognize them through blood scent, how mages feel it through their magic?”

“I’m familiar with the concept, yeah.”

“Hellhounds can’t.” The admission felt like pulling teeth. “Originally when we were created, we weren’t given mates, and it wasn’t until after Lord Hades petitioned the Mother of All for us to have the right to walk the Earth that the Fates agreed we could have mates, too. Because of that, we don’t know who our mates are just by meeting them, or by scenting them. We” - he held up the box - “We need this.”

Redford’s gaze dropped to the velvet cube, then back to Damon’s face. “What is it?”

“It’s a collar box.” Damon’s hands were definitely shaking now. “Lord Hades gave one to each of the original pack when he sent us to Earth. It’s how we know...the only way we know...”

“Know what, Damon?”

Just say it. Just fucking say it.

“If someone is our mate.” Damon swallowed hard. “The box only opens for our mate. And if they put the collar on us willingly…” His voice cracked slightly. “Then we’re bonded, forever.”

The silence stretched between them, broken only by the distant sound of wind against the cottage walls. Redford’s expression was unreadable, and Damon’s hound whined beneath his skin, terrified they’d made a catastrophic mistake.

“So that’s why,” Redford said slowly, “your hound has been so fixated on me.”

“I think so. It’s never happened to me before.” Damon forced himself to meet Redford’s eyes. “He’s been convinced you’re special to us since the moment you got out of your car. But we couldn’t be sure. And I didn’t want to freak you out by dumping this on you when you barely knew me, when you were here for work, when…”

“Damon.”

“…and you might not even want a mate, might not want me specifically, might…”

“Damon.”