Page 102 of Leashed

Chapter Thirty-Six

Bo swung his legs over the edge of his bed and staggered down the hall to the bathroom, running his tongue over his teeth and grimacing.

Gross.

Snatching his toothbrush from the counter, he turned on the shower and stripped, using the vanity for balance when his injured foot protested his weight. Stepping under the spray, he turned his face to it, loading his toothbrush with paste and going hard on the nasty taste in his mouth. He spit the last of the toothpaste down the drain and opened his mouth under the spray, his need for liquid overpowering his hatred of drinking hot water.

He may have lapped at it, but he wouldn’t be advertising that.

There was a creak of the open door and he frowned, sticking his head out of the curtain before grabbing his shampoo and giving himself a good scrub-down. Ignoring the twinges of fire pricking at his deeper cuts, he lathered himself up, snippets of the past however many hours popping through his head.

On the kitchen floor.

Ryan’s furrowed brow.

Dio’s terse responses.

Sage.

He had fragments of memories of her head on his belly as he lay stretched out on the sofa. Vague images of her perched on the edge of his bed. Flashes of her voice wavering while she spoke quietly with his brother.

The scent of her tears.

The heat of her arm clasped around his chest.

Hushed murmurs in his ear, reassurances and promises of punishment when he woke.

Punishment?

Slamming the water off, he snatched his towel from the rack and wrapped it around his hips, halfway down the hall before he heard her.

“Yes, I’ll take a hundred for the pair,” Sage whispered as he limped around the corner to see her curled on the sofa, her back to him. Suddenly she tilted her head, listening for something. “Could I call you back? Thank you.”

She set her phone down and rose, one of his more offensive shirts fluttering across her thighs as she turned to him and froze.

Gods, she was gorgeous.

No makeup, long hair tangled and hanging over the f and k of the shirt’s logo.

A distracting amount of leg showing. Which he was currently gaping at.

His smarter half yanked his gaze back up and he slowly turned on the spot for her appraisal. “I survived.”

She wrapped her arms around herself, the simple movement reminding him of her skittishness around him when they’d first met a lifetime ago. “Your hand?”

He flexed his fingers, wiggling them for a moment before he flinched. “Ah, yeah. Still a little sore.”

“Foot?”

Putting a modicum of weight on it, he let go of the wall to prove he could stand if necessary.

She took a shuddering breath and tightened her hold on herself. “The dragon spit. Any residual effects?”

Oh damn.

He shook his head. “What do you know?”

She ignored him,spread her fingers across her ribs, and took a small step back. “On a scale of one to ten, how are you?”

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