Page 75 of Leashed

Bo crossed hisarms behind his head and looked up at Sage. “It’s not that I can’t do it in there, it’s that the bathroom’s too small. My tail will shred the drywall before you get the door open, and you’ll be kissing your damage deposit goodbye.”

It had taken over an hour of stilted conversation and uncomfortable pauses before they had fallen back to a point where Sage had finally gotten the nerve up to ask him about his hound form. When she’d hesitantly asked to see it again, he’d risen to his feet immediately, his fingers on the fly of his jeans before she squealed and covered her eyes, chastising him for his immodesty.

Ten minutes into their deliberation about how he could strip and shift without actually being “in the buff,” he’d resumed his position on the floor of her living room.

It was a strange discussion, her obvious desire to witness the actual transformation battling with her inner propriety.

It was cute. And slowly destroying his heart.

“How about this,” he posited, tapping her leg. “I’ll use a towel. I can strip down in the bathroom, cover up, and by the time the towel drops off, I’ll be done.” With a smirk, he gave her calf a squeeze. “You already saw me ‘in the buff,’ so you’re being silly about nothing.”

Kicking her leg at him, she sat up straighter and crossed her arms. “I was in shock,” she countered. “Seeing you all…all…was overshadowed by the whole fur-and-paws thing. Use the towel on the back of the door.”

Yanking his shirt over his head as he entered the bathroom, he cracked the tension from his neck and resumed undressing.

If he ignored the way she hid her left hand under her thigh, pretended the boxes weren’t ready to be packed away, it was almost as though they were good again.

In whatever way they were ever good.

He wrapped the towel tight around his hips and walked out, rolling his eyes when he saw her sitting on her sofa, hands covering her face. “You’re gonna miss the show,” he warned. “Ready?”

The flash of apprehension in her eyes was overshadowed by the same spark of curiosity she’d had when he’d passed her the amphora at the coffeehouse, a memory that felt decades old. “Ready.”

*

Sage gently liftedthe dog’s paw and repositioned it away from her thigh, grateful for the reminder this was indeed Bo and not an ordinary animal.

The stream of consciousness she’d been unleashing since he’d dropped to all fours in a shift so quick she barely caught it had become increasingly personal, her guardedness disappearing as her hand tentatively stroked the beast’s head. In hound form, Bo was almost less intimidating, the slight crouch to his stance projecting a wariness she hadn’t seen when he was upright.

And human.

It was disarming, the way he’d laid his head on her sofa and looked up at her, blue and green eyes gauging her every movement. She’d had to make an effort not to coo at him as one might a pet when she’d begun talking to him, voicing the awe she’d held once the fear of the unknown dissipated.

Even now, a soft ear in her hand, her eyes were tearing up again.

Bo nuzzled her palm for a moment before ducking back under her fingers and nudging her to continue the rhythmic petting she’d been absently doing as her mind bounced between thousands of questions and the breathtaking reality of his existence.

“Okay,” she whispered, giving him a scratching under his chin and grinning when he closed his eyes. “You’ve indulged me long enough.”

*

Bo opened thebathroom door and held the frame, a strange uneasiness overtaking him as his feet refused to move from the safety of the doorway.

Fully clothed again, and he felt completely exposed.

Sage sat in the middle of her sofa and stared blankly at the empty wall, totally oblivious to him for a few moments before she blinked rapidly and gave him a smile that seared into him. “Are unicorns real?”

Stepping into the living room, he shook his head. “Sorry, no. But centaurs are.” When she exhaled and closed her eyes, he resumed his position on the floor beside her. “They’re the original party animals. Even I have trouble keeping up with them when they get going.”

She lay on her side, a small pillow wrapped tight in her arms. “Is Hera beautiful?”

“Most goddesses are,” he replied, getting comfortable.

“And Zeus,” she murmured. “Is he really as much of a player as the myths say?”

Wrinkling his nose at the stories humans hadn’t heard, he snorted. “Worse. If it wasn’t for his status, there’s no way in hell Hera would put up with him.”

Her eyes fell on the gold ring he was slipping back onto his pinky. “That’s a beautiful piece.”

Holding his hand up for her for closer inspection, he shrugged. “I had it done up for me during the last little venture home.”

Her questions continued, the pauses between them growing longer and longer until they finally stopped and her breathing evened out.

Deciding her floor was the only place he wanted to be that night, he tossed one arm over his eyes and waited for the sun to rise.

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