Page 62 of De-Witched

He winced at the sound of Chuck’s enthusiastic barks as he found the cat pens. A multitude of hisses and indignant meows ripped the air and while Gabriel wouldn’t say he hurried to catch up, he definitely moved at an accelerated pace.

He conjured a leash with another wince on the run—uh, fast walk—and faced off with Chuck in the cat enclosures. The Labrador shouldn’t look giddy but he did, eyes bright with excitement, his whole body wriggling. When he saw Gabriel, he woofed with delight.

“Not playtime,” Gabriel said firmly. Desperately. “Come.”

He did not. By the time Gabriel had him pinned into a corner, he was sweating.

“It’s not done to show so much excitement,” he said to Chuck, unable to stop his hand from stroking a reassuring hand down the dog’s body as Chuck’s head drooped. “Dignity, Chuck.”

“I’m not sure he knows that word.”

Gabriel froze for only a second before he turned to face his human. Not his, he corrected instantly, as his gaze wandered over Leah’s face, the sloped nose, the stubborn chin, the smiling blue eyes. Her curly hair was hidden beneath her beloved cap today. She wore ripped jeans and a pink sweater that was thin and impractical in this weather. He imagined if he said that, she’d roll her eyes.

“He’ll learn,” he replied.

“When are you going to accept that you can’t control everything?”

“Why should I?”

One side of her lips curled. And he found himself wanting to smile back.

He didn’t.

“Well—” he said, the awareness tingling across his skin forcing him to retreat.

She interrupted. “Can we talk?”

Instant dread coiled up like a snake. He took one step in retreat before remembering he was a Goodnight. “Talk?”

She nodded.

He began to sweat again. “Uh...”

“Please?”

Gabriel would like to meet the person who could deny Leah when she begged. He conceded with a nod.

She wet her lips, seeming nervous. “Okay, cool. About the other night.”

“Yes?” he croaked, alarm and anticipation firing in his veins. Chuck leaned against his legs, nudging his big head in encouragement.

“Leah,” Sloane called from the next room. “Mary from the bookshop’s here. She said she’s giving in to your not-so-subtle hints and wants to have a look at Frenchie.”

Considering it was Leah who’d wanted to talk, Gabriel expected her to be irritated by the distraction. Instead, she shrugged as if to say what can you do, before dashing off.

Reprieve? he wondered. But now the subject had been raised, it wasn’t going away.

Better to get ahead of it, he decided uneasily, take the familiar by the tail. The bull by the horns, he amended, using the human expression. So, he’d talk to her on his terms.

And be damn careful of what was said.

It was late by the time Gabriel could finally approach Leah again. He did one last walk-through, saving Chuck’s kennel for last so he could sneak him one final biscuit, before he returned to reception, where Leah was briefing the night volunteers.

As he walked in, all eyes turned to him.

Gabriel nodded hello but his focus was Leah. “Come. I’ll accompany you home.”

“What?”

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