Page 12 of Leashed

Track down feral bloodlines and drag them to hell.“I have an auto hoist company,” he said aloud. When confusion flashed in her dark eyes, he continued. “You know the things that lift the cars for mechanics? I’m the guy who installs them and repairs them.”

She sat back in her seat and regarded him thoughtfully for a moment. “I’ve seen those dozens of times and never once considered someone would need to put them in the shops and keep them running. How did you get into it?”

He’d been prepared for the “how much do you make” question, so it took a second for his brain to switch gears. “I kind of fell into it. I like physical work, and I needed something portable since my brother and I move around a lot.” He lifted one hand stained with oil and shrugged. “It’s not glamorous or anything, but I’m not much of a nine-to-five guy. Or a people guy, for that matter. So scheduling my own hours and running my own show is ideal.”

She nodded and took a sip of her coffee. “It must be stressful, knowing one mistake could result in a car just—” She whistled, spinning a finger in the air before thumping it to the table. “Bam.”

Grinning, he relaxed a bit into the quiet thrum of calm she emanated, a far cry from the restless buzz usually coursing through his veins. “I need high stakes to motivate my sorry ass. My favorite calls are mechanics telling me another guy couldn’t figure out the problem.” Pulling his wallet from his back pocket, he slid a handful of cards across the table. “I had a couple designs done up a few weeks ago. Word of mouth is pretty much my only advertising, but I was thinking maybe formalizing shit a little more would be good.”

He left out the part where Ryan had recommended it since the hunt for the final Pirithous was hitting dead end after dead end. All they needed at this point was for the damn bloodline to have a son or two and they’d been stuck paying rent topside for another couple decades.

Her slim fingers lifted each business card as she examined them silently before placing one down with a nod. “I like the blue and green logo.”

Slipping it into his wallet, he frowned. “Yeah? You know, I was leaning toward that one myself. I suppose I should go with it, since an art major agrees.” When she smiled and her cheeks pinked up, he froze, momentarily struck by how stunning she was. “The, uh, art history thing,” he stammered, trying to get his footing. “How’d you get into that?”

What the fuck was wrong with him?

Growing up surrounded by goddesses and nymphs had pretty much made him immune to beauty, his own half-decent looks ensuring he had plenty of exposure to the most irresistible deities. He happily cycled through gorgeous women both topside and back home, promising them nothing more than a good time and a memorable fuck. Maybe five or six if the mood struck.

His tie to Hades aside, he wasn’t wired for anything more than a few nights of fun, the fibers of Dionysus’s lifeline wound into his own, guaranteeing he would make a lousy partner to any woman crazy enough to stick around.

So why the thought had even crossed his mind while he sat across the table from a taken woman spooked the hell out of him.

Sage seemed to be having her own internal debate, her lips pursing in concentration until she tilted her head and looked over at him. “I should probably say I visited a museum as a child and became so enthralled with the paintings, I knew how I wanted to spend my life.”

“But?”

That alluring blush returned to her cheeks as she bit her lip. “But I was actually just obsessed with the idea of getting a dog when I was little. I was doing research on different breeds to try and convince my mom we should get one when I came across a picture of a three-headed dog. My kid logic figured it would be perfect for us—one head for me to pet, one for my mom, and one for my brother. So I did a whole report on this three-headed dog and she promised me that yes, when we came across one at the animal shelter, I could have it.” Giving him a sheepish smile, she shook her head. “I was thirteen before I figured out I’d been lobbying to own Cerberus. And that was when I decided I wanted to spend my life studying the influence of mythology throughout history, so I would know the stories by heart and wouldn’t fall for something like that again. Since art tells those stories so beautifully, it was a good fit.”

Visions of her scratching him behind the ears raced through his mind, interspersed with flashes of her doing the same for his brothers. Tamping down the rush of irrational jealousy barreling through him, he cleared his throat. “That’s actually a way fucking cooler path than just going to some old museum.” When her eyes lit up, he zeroed in on the most important part of her story. “So you like dogs, do you?”

“Oh, no, not anymore.” She shuddered. “I was bit by my neighbor’s puppy when I was fifteen. He wasn’t trained and I got into his space too quickly, so it wasn’t really his fault.” Pushing her sleeve up, she showed him two long scars above her elbow. “But since then, all dogs make me nervous. I know it’s silly, and I don’t despise dogs or anything, but I tense up around them and I know they can sense it.”

Well, fuck. If the existence of her asshole boyfriend wasn’t enough to squash any weird attraction he had to her, that sure as hell did. Pounding back the last of his coffee, he hunched over his empty cup. “Yeah, dogs can be jerks.”

She laughed, the sound slamming against the wall he was already building back up. “You must be a dog guy, though. Your Cerberus tattoo is stunning. Why did you choose it, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“It was on sale,” he lied, hoping his flippant reply would back her off the topic.

After all, admitting the piece on his back was a work in progress detailing his kills would probably set him up for some sort of police shakedown.

That fact Hades was his boss wouldn’t help.

At least not topside.

He caught the twitching of her fingers as she sat a little straighter in her seat and craned her neck, as though trying to catch a glimpse of the tattoo. “You can take a better look at it some time when I won’t be arrested for public indecency,” he offered, momentarily forgetting she was not only off-limits, she wasn’t even his type. When she blushed and her gaze dropped to her empty cup, he recovered. “You know, if we run into each other again.”

“Of course,” she agreed, retreating a fraction as the air around them appeared to shift. “If we run into each other.”

The booths of the quiet cafe filled, the din of the clientele and clinking cups effectively putting an end to their discussion. He held his hand out for Sage’s empty mug, setting both at the edge of the table as she stood and tightened her coat around her.

“Well, I better get to campus before the good parking is gone,” she said, staying tight to the booths as other customers filtered past her. “Have a good day, Bo.”

“You too,” he grunted, giving his coffee companion a quick wave as she walked out.

Concealed by the dark tint of the cafe windows, he kept one eye on her as she crossed the street and disappeared into her apartment complex. Once she was out of sight, he jogged back to the park to retrieve Ryan’s button-down shirt, glaring at the dirt embedded in the seams.

If he tossed it into the washer right away, he wouldn’t have to hear a lecture from his rigid, meticulous brother.

With a final glance at her balcony, he walked the two blocks to his truck, the calm he’d felt at the coffeehouse fading as Dio’s influence surged forth with a vengeance.

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