Page 66 of Leashed

Hellhound.

“Definitely not good enough,” she whispered.

Bo tapped lightly on the door. “Come out,” he pleaded. “You can leave, stay, whatever you want. Just come out of there.”

She looked down at her weapon. “Go to the living room,” she ordered. “And don’t leave there because I’ll know.” Rising to her feet, she waited until she heard his footsteps stop before she closed the drawer securing the door closed and popped the lock. She inched out of the bathroom, blade in hand, and crept down the hall. “You’re not moving, are you?”

“I’m not an idiot, Sage.”

She paused at the end of the hall, the exit on her left and the living room on her right.

“Bo?”

“Yeah?”

She narrowed her eyes and turned toward the living room, staying out of sight. “Who were your parents?”

“Typhon and Echidna,” he replied without hesitation. “We take our mother’s name when we’re topside.”

“Siblings.”

He sighed audibly. “Orthrus and Hydra. So you can see why my general hate for Hercules is pretty damn valid.”

“Clotho. C.”

“I’ve known her my whole life.” His voice held a fondness she hadn’t heard before. “She caved to pressure when I was born and spun a few of Dio’s fibers into my lifeline, so she has this guilt thing going because she essentially sentenced me to a life of worshipping him. But she means well. She, uh, called you my soul mate.”

She stepped into view, the shaving knife held in front of her. Bo sat on the recliner, his elbows on his knees as he hunched forward, his hair falling forward and hiding his face. He looked up at her, bloodshot eyes locking on the blade. “Your phone’s on the table.”

Inching within reach of her cell, she picked it up and slid it into her back pocket, keeping the knife angled in his direction.

“If I wanted you dead, you would’ve been hours ago,” he muttered, looking down at his hands. “Stop waving that thing around before you cut yourself.”

Irrational curiosity trumped common sense and she perched on the arm of the sofa, extending the blade toward him. “Show me again.”

He snorted and shook his head. “You hate dogs.”

“No, I’m scared of them,” she corrected, adjusting her grip and wincing when the blade grazed her thumb.

“Yeah, that’s way better,” he scoffed. “Is it bleeding?”

Pressing her thumb into her jeans to stop the trickle of blood, she stared him down. “Do it.”

His eyes hardened and he stood, dropping his jeans to the floor without a shred of modesty and shaking his head when she looked away. “You’ll miss the show,” he warned as he sank to his knees.

Keeping her attention on his face, she watched his body morph in the span of seconds, his eyes the only identifiable feature left as the beast stood in the middle of the room. There was a defiance in the tilt of his chin, the way the animal looked at her as though daring her to attack.

“Can you…” She paused. “Can you understand me?”

He nodded and nattered at her, his gravelly voice distinct even in dog form.

“Um, sit?”

His expression shifted from wary to insulted, but he did as she asked. His blue and green eyes flicked between the knife and her face, a flash of relief in them when she hesitantly laid the weapon within reach on the table.

“This is incredible,” she whispered, sliding off the sofa arm and creeping toward him, her hand extended. “You’re real.”

He nuzzled her hand briefly and drew back, shifting back into Bo before she could blink. Averting her gaze while he pulled his jeans on, she ran her hand through her hair. “I don’t know what to do with this information.”

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