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CHAPTER 1

“ L ook, you can’t tell this one you’ll rip his colon out through his ear if he refuses to surrender the dog to us, OK?”

Now there was a sentence Justine Willet never thought she’d utter. But here she was.

The giant, hulking orc next to her rolled his head around on his thick neck, then cracked his knuckles. “I don’t see why I can’t speed the process.”

She sighed as she punched the buzzer on the ramshackle house’s front door. “Khill, it’s illegal to threaten people into giving up their pets.”

He shrugged. “It’s illegal to abuse animals, too. That doesn’t seem to stop any of these assholes.”

Justine pinched the bridge of her nose. They had this conversation every time they approached a dog owner about surrender in cases of neglect and abuse. He always wanted to threaten first and ask questions later. Or never. And frankly, she didn’t blame him for feeling that way. He wasn’t wrong. She admired his passion.

Actually, she admired a lot of things about Khill.

The broad shoulders? The long, thick, wavy black hair? The intense, black-as-sin eyes? The muscles rippling under his snug black T-shirt? The scalpel-sharp cheekbones and kissable pout? The fact that he was tall enough to make her—a strong, curvy woman who stood, in her bare feet, at 5’10”—feel like the daintiest of dainty flowers? She admired the hell out of it all.

She wasn’t even normally attracted to orcs. The tusks, pointy ears, and green skin didn’t normally do it for her. But on Khill, it all just worked for some reason. She wanted to trace her fingertips over the pointy tips of his ears and her tongue over the tusks that poked out a little over his pillow-y bottom lip. And that lush skin that reminded her of fresh spring grass… sigh . What she wouldn’t give to have that skin against hers.

And beyond his supernatural sexiness, Khill was just a great guy. Not that too many people ever got to see it. His resting serial killer face offered him a pretty big personal bubble of space, after all.

She knew him better than most people ever would, though, and he had a kind, gentle soul when it came to animals and anyone in need. Sure, he was grumpy. Hell, so was she. But he was the kind of man she could totally fall for.

It was just her unfortunate luck that her feelings were one-sided, and she’d been friend zoned in a big way. Hard.

But that was another story entirely, and none of it mattered today.

What did matter on this particularly sunny spring day was that while she admired Khill’s passion for animal welfare, his methods of helping her “convince” neglectful and abusive owners to surrender their pets were often less than…optimal.

Effective, though. And exactly how she’d choose to handle things if jail time wasn’t on the table.

Whatever she was going to say to Khill next was swallowed by the sound of the homeowner yanking the door open and practically snarling at her, “What the fuck do you want?”

Khill let out a growl that reminded Justine of an angry Rottweiler getting a rectal exam. She laid a hand on his arm to remind him not to threaten this guy. With words or noises. And holy crap, that was one hard, bulging bicep.

Which, again, was entirely not the point.

Justine cleared her throat. “Mr. Sanders, I’m a veterinarian here on behalf of the Monsters for Mutts dog rescue. One of your neighbors called because they were concerned about your dog.”

His beady eyes shifted over to Khill before landing on her again. “It was that nosy bitch across the street, wasn’t it?”

It was indeed. And the nosy bitch in question was not a joy to talk to. But she wasn’t wrong, either. Justine had already gotten a glimpse of the scrawny dog in the guy’s yard, and the poor thing was obviously being neglected. “It doesn’t matter who made the call, sir,” she pointed out. “I saw your dog, and even from the street, I can tell he has a serious case of mange and is severely underweight. If you’re having difficulty caring for the dog because of any…hardship…”

She’d practically choked on the word hardship . Sanders was clearly having no trouble feeding himself, or say, buying beer. His barely concealed gut and the dozens of empty bottles littering the porch told her that much. Meanwhile, that poor dog was starving and battling a raging skin condition that was very uncomfortable.

She was starting to rethink her order to Khill. This guy deserved to be threatened.

“…we can help,” she finished through gritted teeth.

Sanders leaned a shoulder against his doorframe and shot her a mulish look. “You can tell that hag I don’t answer to her. Or to you, for that matter, bitch.”

Justine didn’t even have time to process being called a bitch by a stranger before Khill had snagged Sanders by the throat, lifted him several inches off the ground, and slammed him back against a porch post. He leaned in close as the guy’s eyes bugged out and hissed, “Don’t. Call. Her. That.”

Oh, boy. This wasn’t going to end well. She grabbed Khill’s arm and tugged with every bit of strength she had, putting her full weight into it, but he didn’t budge. “It’s fine,” she said. “Really. I’m not offended. Just let him go.”

She understood why other people might be hurt or offended by being called a bitch, but Justine was used to it. Anyone as blunt as she tended to be needed to have a thick skin. Hell, bitch wasn’t even the worst thing she’d been called that day . It certainly wasn’t worth murdering anyone over.

Sanders kicked his feet and clawed at the hand on his throat. His struggles weren’t any more effective than Justine’s. “Please,” she tried again. “Please, Khill.”

The please must’ve done it. A shudder ran through him, but ultimately, he opened his hand, letting Sanders fall to the ground like a used bath towel. He coughed and sputtered as Khill frowned down at him dispassionately. “I’m calling the cops,” Sanders choked out.

Ugh . That’s what she’d been afraid of. Khill had already been a person of interest last month when the owners of a dog fighting ring had been found beaten to within an inch of their lives and stuffed into the trunks of their own cars. When the police rescued them, they couldn’t provide a description of their assailant, other than to say he was huge. Like, supernaturally huge. Khill had been questioned immediately. Without proof, they couldn’t hold him for long, though, and they didn’t push it. After all, who really cared that a bunch of scumbags got a little of what was coming to them? But everyone knew it had been Khill.

So, even if assault charges didn’t land him in jail this time, he’d definitely lose his job at the rescue. Monsters for Mutts employed more than 30 monsters that were unemployable anywhere else and helped thousands of dogs a year find forever homes. With so much at stake, Lucy and Victor, the owners, couldn’t afford the kind of bad press that came with keeping a convicted felon on staff.

Which meant it was time for her to get creative.

“You could,” she said with a shrug. “But remember, the shelter has rich benefactors with great attorneys. He’ll at least make bail. And when he does, he knows where you live.”

Khill bared his teeth at him in a vicious mockery of a smile. Good Lord, Justine thought. He looked absolutely feral . It did have the intended effect, though…if the puddle of urine forming under Sanders was any indication.

Gross.

She cleared her throat. “ Or you could give us the dog, let us leave, and you’ll never see either of us again.”

Sanders shot Khill one more terrified glance before hissing, “Take it and go.” Then he crab crawled back into his hovel and kicked the door shut in their faces.

Khill had the nerve to look proud of himself. “You want to grab the dog, or should I?”

Justine blinked up at him. “Are you kidding me?”

He sighed as he made his way off the porch towards the dog. “I’ll grab him.”

She trailed behind him, speechless. Beating up some scum bags with no witnesses around in the middle of the night was one thing. But assaulting a guy in broad daylight, right in front of her, after she mentioned the name of the rescue? It was reckless and stupid and…OK, fine. It was kind of hot that he’d done it on her behalf.

But as a result, she’d just committed a crime to protect him (blackmail was illegal, right?), which made his actions decidedly less hot.

What a fucking mess. Lucy and Viktor were more than bosses, they were friends. But did friendship extend to cases where their business was dragged through the mud— criminal mud, even—because of something she and Khill had done?

She let out an involuntary squeak when Khill stopped, and she ran into his back. It was like slamming face first into a wall.

Peeking around the giant expanse of shoulder he carried around so easily (the show off), Justine got her first up-close look at the poor little dog they’d just threatened (blackmailed…whatever) Mr. Sanders into surrendering. And just like that, she didn’t feel bad at all for threatening/blackmailing that asshole.

First of all, he wasn’t even an adult dog yet. If Justine hadn’t missed her guess, he was only about three months old. He looked to weigh about twenty-ish pounds, but probably should weigh closer to thirty, maybe even forty. She couldn’t say for sure what breed he was. He had the coloring of a beagle, and the wiry coat of a terrier. His left ear was ragged on the end, like he’d gotten it caught on something and tore it free. It had healed a little wonky, letting Justine know it had never been treated properly. He was looking up at them like they might stomp him at any moment, and he was resigned to whatever fate they decided to deal him.

“I should’ve let you strangle that motherfucker,” she said through gritted teeth.

Khill glanced down at her and cracked his knuckles. “It’s not too late.”

“Let me put together some bail money first.”

Kneeling down, she extended her hand to the puppy. “Hi,” she said in her most soothing voice. “You don’t know it yet, but you just hit the doggy lotto. I have a nice, warm kennel and a big bowl of food with your name on it.”

He cringed away from her hand, cowering closer to the house. She sighed. So, he was going to play hard to get. She could deal with that. He wouldn’t be the first.

Her thoughts drifted inappropriately—so, so inappropriately—to Khill, who’d also been determinedly playing hard to get for all the years she’d known him.

But that wasn’t the point. Point was, normally, she could wait all day to earn a little dog’s trust. They didn’t have that kind of time, though. She figured if they were still there once Mr. Sanders changed his pants and stopped shaking in his boots, he’d call the cops.

She opened her mouth to tell Khill to grab a lead and small carrier from the truck, but snapped it shut when he knelt and extended his giant, dinner-plate sized hand to the dog.

“Come on,” he said in his low, gravely, oddly calming voice. “Time to go. Gonna need you to be brave, little man.”

Justine held her breath as the little dog looked up at him with solemn eyes. He looked like he was running a risk assessment, trying to decide if his odds were better with this monster, or the one inside the house. She wished she could explain to him that this monster wasn’t a bad guy at all. He only looked like a scary monster.

A crazy-hot scary monster.

The dog inched forward, eyes shifting between Khill and Justine. When no one made a grab for him, he moved a little closer. Then a little closer yet, doing a commando crawl. And when he was within Khill’s reach, he flopped over on his back and exposed his belly.

She let out the breath she’d been holding when Khill chuckled and rubbed his knuckles over the dog’s furry belly. “Good boy,” he said.

What I wouldn’t give to have him call me a good girl .

Good grief. Why were her thoughts so porn-y today? She needed to get laid. Like, ASAP.

Khill scooped his new best friend up, cradling him against his chest like a football before he grabbed her hand and yanked her to her feet. Per usual, he underestimated his strength, and she smacked into him, nearly squishing the dog between them.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

“It’s fine,” she said, brushing some dust off the knees of her jeans. She didn’t tell him she was horny enough to have enjoyed smashing into his chest. That was just pathetic.

Khill opted to hold the dog rather than secure him in a crate while she drove them back to the rescue. He didn’t offer any explanation, but Justine knew he didn’t want to give up his precious burden, who was now snuggling into Khill’s arms like they were the comfiest place he’d ever known.

Great. Now she was jealous of a puppy.

“I’ll give him an exam when we get to the rescue, but I’m going to wait on vaccinations until he’s put on a few pounds and his skin clears up,” she said. “I can get him started on an antiparasitic, antibiotic, and anti-inflammatories in the meantime. That’ll make him feel a lot better. Then I’ll get one of the kennel staff to give him a medicated bath and get him set up for the night. He’ll need to be isolated from the other dogs for quite a while, though.”

Which meant he’d be staying in a clinic kennel instead of one of the luxury dog suites at the rescue.

The vast grounds of the historic Spellman Mansion where her bosses lived held more outbuildings than she could count. One of them was her vet clinic. Others held supplies and grooming tubs. There was also a caretaker’s cottage where Khill lived.

Then there were the tiny houses. So, so many tiny houses.

Instead of cages, the Monsters for Mutts rescue set each of their pampered guests up in their own private tiny houses, complete with gated front yards, chairs and couches, and, of course, central heat and air.

There was also a giant fenced area, many acres wide and long, behind her clinic where all the dogs could frolic, socialize, and receive training if necessary.

In other words, it was doggy Shangri-La. Justine couldn’t wait until this little guy could join the ranks of the other potential adoptees.

“I’ll bathe him and get him settled,” Khill said gruffly.

She held in her instinctive “aw.” She loved it when the big, tough orc decided to take care of a tiny little puppy. And it happened all the time. He was a soft touch, for sure. Which she imagined was something only she knew, based on his appearance. “You’re not going to the Monster Match tonight?”

That was the other thing the Spellman Manor was known for. Speed dating events for monsters looking to hook up with marriage-minded human women, otherwise known as a Monster Matches, were held once a year at the manor. Lucy and Viktor had met at one, as had her friend Roxie and her husband, Riordan.

Justine had never attended as a participant. It just felt a little too…social for her. The idea of flirting and trying to pretend she wouldn’t rather be at home with a glass of wine, binging episodes of Cobra Kai while wearing her comfy pants was too daunting. Besides, pretending to be pleasant for hours was exhausting. She could maybe pull it off for one speed date. But several? Pfffttt . No way.

He snorted. “Hell no. What about you?”

She ignored how much it pleased her that he wasn’t looking for a wife. But his question did make her side-eye him. “You know I’ve been seeing Jake. Why would I go to a Monster Match?”

Khill always looked like he’d just stepped in a fresh pile of dog vomit every time she mentioned Jake’s name. She’d never asked why. After all, it wasn’t like Khill was much of a people person. Er, monster. Whatever.

“You’re still with that guy?”

He might as well have asked, “Still got herpes?” That was the tone he used when he asked about Jake.

If she didn’t know better, she’d think he was jealous. But even if he was, what did he expect her to do? Move into a convent and become a nun after he rejected her? She was a mildly antisocial introvert who didn’t enjoy the company of many people, but she did enjoy sex, which meant that abstinence wasn’t in the cards for her, and she’d already waited long enough for Khill to change his mind about dating her. She refused to apologize for moving on with her life.

Besides, Jake was a decent enough guy. He was good looking, clean, had a steady job as a paralegal at the biggest law firm in town, and never seemed to mind when she’d had enough people-ing for a day and required a little space. Surely all that was a decent foundation to build a relationship on, right?

“Yes,” she answered patiently. “I’m still seeing Jake. He’s had that flu that’s been going around. I’ll head to his place after this little man’s exam and bring him some soup or something.”

Khill made a sound somewhere between a snort of disgust and a growl. Again, she ignored it. Instead, she asked him, “What are you going to name your new friend there?”

He glanced down at the dog in his lap and ran a fingertip over the edge of his chewed-up ear. “I’m thinking…Van Gogh.”

She let out a shocked laugh. “That’s perfect.”

“Yeah. It is.”

Only when she glanced over at him, he was looking at her instead of the dog. Surely, that was a coincidence.

He glanced away before she could overthink the situation, which was probably for the best. Right?