They materialized in the wastelands. It was exactly as the name described - red sand stretching endlessly beneath an equally red sky with no sun to indicate the time. The ground was hard-packed and warm under Lamont’s boots, and the air tasted faintly of copper and ancient stone. Dark black rocks jutted up in scattered formations, casting no shadows in the strange perpetual twilight. In the distance, dark cave mouths could barely be seen in the equally dark cliff faces.
Ewen turned in a slow circle, taking it in. “It’s beautiful, in a desolate, end-of-the-world sort of way.”
“Wait until you see the River Styx. That’s actually beautiful.” Lamont looked around, trying to see it through his mate’s eyes.“The wastelands are more...functional. Good for running, and not much else.”
“Do I need to get naked here?” Ewen gestured at his clothes.
“Nope. Since we’re double-claimed, you can shift with your clothes on, just like I can. They’ll come back with you when you shift to human form.” Lamont chuckled at the look of surprise on Ewen’s face. “It’s one of the perks of mating a hellhound.”
“That’s incredibly convenient and certainly does away with any awkwardness in being naked in the wilderness, let alone the wastelands. How does that even work?”
“I have no idea, I just know it does.” Lamont grinned and let his hound surge forward.
The shift rippled through him, familiar and welcome. Within seconds, he stood on four massive paws, shaking out his dark coat. His hound huffed with satisfaction, finally free.
Ewen stared up at him, eyes wide. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to how big you are.”
Lamont’s hound lowered his enormous head and bumped Ewen’s chest gently, careful not to knock him over.
“Right. A few quick scritches first…” Lamont’s hound waggled his back end as Ewen’s hands found that special spot behind his ears.
But he stepped back when Ewen said, “My turn. If I get stuck in my clothes, you’ll have to shift back to get me out.” Ewen took a breath, and his form blurred.
The shift was quicker for him, smoother. Where Lamont’s transformation involved a massive redistribution of mass, Ewen’s fox was compact. Black fur rippled across his body as he dropped to four paws, his bushy tail already swishing.
The fox looked up at Lamont’s hound and yipped, ears perked forward.
Lamont’s hound rumbled a greeting, lowering into a play bow. The size difference was comical - his hound could fit Ewen’s entire fox form in his mouth - but his hound made a point of being extra careful. This wasn’t play time with other hounds, this was his mate. His duty was to protect the smaller fox, not overwhelm him.
Ewen’s fox padded forward cautiously, nose working. He circled Lamont’s hound once, twice, testing the air. Apparently satisfied there was no danger, the fox darted forward and nipped playfully at Lamont’s front paw.
Then he ran.
Lamont’s hound gave chase immediately, loping after the smaller canine. Ewen’s fox was fast, darting between rocks and kicking up red dust, but Lamont’s hound had to deliberately slow his pace. Each of his strides covered what would take Ewen three or four. He let the fox stay ahead, enjoying the game.
Ewen dodged around a boulder, then doubled back, racing past Lamont’s flank close enough to brush against his fur. The fox yipped again, clearly delighted.
They ran in wide circles across the wasteland, playing chase and tag. Lamont’s hound would catch up and gently nose Ewen’s fox, who would spin and dart away in another direction. Sometimes the fox would hide behind rocks, then pounce out at Lamont as he passed. Other times, he’d race straight at Lamont’s hound, sliding beneath his belly at the last second.
Lamont’s hound rumbled with contentment. He’d never done anything like that before. His packmates were fun to run with, but they weren’t inclined to play. Ewen didn’t care about lookingtough or maintaining an image. He was just happy to have his mate to play with.
After what might have been an hour, Ewen’s fox finally slowed, panting. He flopped down in the red sand near a cluster of rocks, tongue lolling.
Lamont shifted back to human form and clicked up two large glasses of cool water. “Here.”
Ewen shifted as well, his clothes returning as if they’d never left. He grabbed a glass and sculled back half of the contents in one day. “That was amazing. I haven’t run like that since…” he paused. “Actually, I don’t think I’ve ever run like that. It’s not like I had an invitation to run in the wastelands before meeting you. Most of my shifting was done in parks, at night, hoping that if anyone saw me among the trees, they’d think I was a fluffy dog.”
“Your fox is wonderfully fluffy.” Lamont settled beside him, close enough that their shoulders touched. “We can come down here anytime you want. The wastelands are always open.”
“Even when we’re back in New York?”
“Especially then. Manhattan’s not exactly fox-running territory, as I’m sure you know, although remember we have other options for where we want to live after all this as well.”
“We can talk about that when all this business is over. I need to check my house at some point as well.” Ewen leaned against him. Through their bond, Lamont felt his mate’s contentment, the pleasant exhaustion in his muscles, the quiet joy of having a fun run.
“Thank you,” Ewen said quietly. “For this. For everything.”
Before Lamont could respond, a shimmer in the air announced an arrival. A demon materialized a respectful distance away,dressed in black leather pants favored by Lord Hades’s household staff.