The brothers have their hands full trying to keep their boss at Bailey Bonds safe from the alien who wants to replace him on Earth. To make things worse, the same alien appears to have something to do with the infiltration of the Intergalactic Police and the deaths of many of Falen’s friends and fellow officers. As things unfold, the Blood brothers and their lovers quickly find themselves muzzle deep in lethal aliens, and it will take every skill they have to keep Bailey alive and dig out the truth of what’s going on.
4 stars and a sizzling rating from SensualReads.com “Lots of action and a nice touch of humor make Blood Hound 3: Roasted by Declan Sands a fun story to read.”
Rum threw out a hand and sent a blast of fairy magic toward the far side of their little campground, where a set of red eyes glowed through the dark.
The night split around the eerie gaze and seemed to plow toward them. Matt didn’t hesitate as the giant Hell-hound barreled toward Rum. Before he had time to think about the intelligence of attacking something as big and powerful as a creature from the subterranean planet of Hell, he was three inches away from the charging creature and feeling the heat of its fiery breath on his face.
He leapt at the same time as the fiend and their chests crashed together with a meaty thud in mid-air. The impact sent pain searing through Matt’s entire body and forced a yelp from his throat. The black hound didn’t even wince as Matt pinged off his armor-like body and flew backward, skidding through the fire and hitting a tree. The impact knocked all the air from his lungs. Debris rained down on Matt’s head as he struggled to breathe.
The campground erupted in a flare of white light, and when it died down the hound was gone. Rum hurried over to Matt. “Are you okay?” He grabbed Matt’s hand as he shifted back to human form and helped him stand.
“My ego is bruised and my back is slightly crispy, but other than that I’m fine.”
Rum’s worried, blue gaze slid toward the spot where the Hell-hound had been.
“Did you kill it?”
Rum shook his head. “I don’t know where he went. I don’t think my magic even touched him.”
Matt nodded. “Let’s get dressed. We need to go warn Littlejohn.”
As they pulled on their jeans, a low growl throbbed through the night.
Rum jumped, his gaze scouring the dark. Matt grabbed Rum’s wrist and glanced meaningfully toward the smoldering campfire. “You ever heard the expression fight fire with fire?” he murmured low enough that only Rum could hear.
Rum’s eyes widened and he gave a single, sharp nod.
“I’ll draw it out,” Matt said. He shifted back to canine form and sniffed. The air was so saturated with ozone it was hard to pinpoint the fiend’s location, but Matt knew the creature wouldn’t be able to resist pounding on a virtually helpless, not too smart bloodhound if it walked right past him so he padded toward the flickering edge of the firelight, nose to the ground. Come out, come out, wherever you are.
Matt circled the edge of the light, one ear trained toward the night and a growing cacophony of growls that didn’t bode well for them. The sound seemed to be coming from several directions at once. Either they were surrounded, or the beast had the ability to throw its voice around.
Matt flicked a look toward Rum and saw by his expression that he was realizing the same thing. There was more than one of the damn things.
Right on cue, several sets of glowing red eyes emerged from the night, one of them mere inches from Matt. They didn’t attack, didn’t advance any closer. They stayed at the edge of the light and fixed their eerie, red gazes on Matt and Rum.
Matt counted four sets of red eyes. He knew their only chance was to even the odds a bit. And it was a small enough chance even if they got the number down to one. But first things first. He refused to just stand there and let his lover be eaten. It was time to take action.
With a snarl, he leapt toward the nearest hound, ripping into the first thing his teeth encountered. He was pleased when his teeth grasped actual flesh, but less pleased when the blood filling his mouth burned like acid against his tongue.
Matt yelped but held on, ripping into the thing’s belly with his back claws as he and the fiend rolled away from the light, smacking up against a large rock. Enormous white teeth snapped mere inches from his snout, tearing into his ear as he turned to avoid them. Saliva that felt as if it had been boiled over the nearby campfire hit his fur and ate its way through to the skin beneath.
Matt gave up reacting to the pain. It pretty much engulfed him. His eyes stung from the sulfurous stench of the nasty creature, and he choked on the smoky air surrounding it. He was on sensory overload and had retreated to survival mode — all snapping teeth and mindless slashing.
His teeth closed over a hairy, black cheek and he flung his head, brutally ripping. The hound yelped for the first time and danced backward, giving Matt the room he needed to climb to his feet. As soon as his pads hit the ground he leapt, landing on the thing’s back.
He rode the hound to the ground and tore into it, tearing flesh from its back and neck with desperate efficiency. The Hell-hound seemed to be losing strength, its huge jaws snapping at dirt and grass as Matt ripped bloody chunks from its back. The snapping jaws found one of Matt’s legs and closed down with the strength of a vise.
Matt yelped and fell to the ground as the bone compressed beneath the massive jaws, shifting back to human form. The fiend was on him almost before his back hit the ground. Its reflexes were freakishly fast.
Just like that, the snapping jaws closed over his throat and the thing’s sulfurous, furnace-like breath bathed Matt’s face. He choked and coughed from the stench, feeling as if it would suffocate him.
He stared up into that horrible, glowing gaze and saw his own death depicted among the flames there. But the hound didn’t rip out his throat, though its jaws trembled with the desire to do it. It simply held him in place and waited. For what, Matt had no idea.
The sound of clapping disturbed the taut silence. “Bravo, Mr. Blood. That’s as close as I’ve ever seen a mere dog shifter come to taking down one of my hounds. I’m impressed.”
Matt turned his head slowly, sure that any abrupt movements would have the fiend at his throat tearing and ripping with abandon, despite its apparent orders from the extremely tall, good-looking man standing next to the smoldering campfire. Matt swallowed hard when he saw Rum, bleeding and on his knees, surrounded by three hounds. A spiked collar circled the fairy’s neck, its ominous glow the color of sulfur in the night. “Who the hell are you?”
The tall man smiled and Matt expelled a soft breath. He was magnificent and horrifying at the same time. He had the beauty of an angel, but his eyes were so cold as to make him more devilish than angelic.