Page 7 of Leashed

He’d had relationships with vintage shirts that lasted that long, but women? Hell no.

Gesturing toward the park, he backed up a step, easing the pressure on his injured foot. “Moonlight hikes are kind of my thing.” He turned and scanned the empty street. “You sure you’re okay out here? It’s kind of cold.”

“It’s okay. Really,” she replied, sitting up straighter. “I’m up. Nixon’ll probably be by in ten minutes or so.”

Frowning, he nodded slowly. “All right. If you say so.” Tucking his hair behind his ear, he backed onto the sidewalk. “I think I left my keys and phone in the park, so I better grab them before another hiker snatches them up.”

She gave him a small smile and a wave as she settled deeper into her blanket and he ducked into the thickets, his phone and keys snug in his back pockets.

The established older neighborhood was nice, the brick and iron of Sage’s apartment building looking far homier than the sleek, modern one he and Ryan shared closer to downtown. But it still didn’t sit well with him—the mousey, quiet woman waiting outside in the cool air just so her boyfriend wouldn’t be inconvenienced by his own forgetfulness.

He could be a complete asshole himself, but there were limits. Not a lot of them, but they were there.

And making a woman wait outside in the dark as temperatures hovered around freezing was one of them.

He was born a guard dog. The need to protect was woven into every fiber of his existence. It was an internal drive, an instinctual response to crouch low on the frosted earth as he scanned the area for threats until he was assured the soft-spoken woman would be safe inside.

An hour into his watch and the air around him changed. He braced himself for Dio’s booming voice, surprised when Clotho knelt beside him, a heavy blanket draped over her shoulders as she joined him in his silent vigil.

“Three times in one week,” he murmured, shrugging off his jacket and tossing it over her knees. “I don’t know if I should be getting worried at this point.”

The Fate remained motionless for a while, her silver eyes on Sage when she finally spoke. “My sister still spits your name.”

“Your sister is a bitch,” he replied with a grin. “You came all this way to tell me she stills hates me?”

A hint of a smile passed her lips. “You’re a bad dog.”

“And you love me for it, C.”

Of all the deities in the underworld, Clotho was one of a handful he trusted. He knew she carried guilt over her role in his alignment with Dionysus—the adding of filaments tinged with Dio’s essence to Bo’s lifeline was a request she regretted fulfilling.

He didn’t blame her. Most of the top-tier gods and goddesses politicked their way into the lines of lesser deities as a way to boost their own power and dedicated followers. It was the way the game was played.

The rays of the sun were just beginning to light the navy sky when he spotted a taxi pulling in front of the complex. The boyfriend hopped out and jogged over to Sage’s balcony, the exasperation in his voice as he woke her carrying through the quiet morning.

Clotho remained still beside him while Sage stood and passed the jacket over, her eyes narrowing when Sage glanced toward the park before blowing her boyfriend a kiss.

As Sage disappeared inside, Bo got to his feet, his inner guard dog satisfied. “Are you sticking around for a bit?”

The air shifted and Clotho was gone.

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