Page 95 of Junkyard Dog

She drew in a deep breath. “Elaborate, please.”

“Not much to say.” He shrugged. “Good food, dark ambience, and a lot of ear scratching.” When her eyes narrowed slightly, her expression shifting quickly to a feigned pleasantness, he slid his hand across the table. “I’m a pet down there. I spend most of my time on all fours snagging smoked meats from the banquet hall and sitting beside Hades, bored out of my head while he welcomes the one or two new arrivals that trickle in.” He hooked his pinky around hers, his heart almost stopping when she didn’t pull away. “I swam in the river a few times, but it has a weird smell to it I can’t quite identify and it takes forever to get it out of my fur.”

She hummed in acknowledgment, her gaze sliding to his arm. “You added on to the tattoo.”

“Hades did, yeah.” The tilt of her chin was enough to loosen his tongue. He angled his shoulder toward her and rolled his sleeve up. “This is the Pirithous you fought off at the Chasm.”

She reached across the table and traced the shade’s form. “Pirithous,” she echoed, snatching her hand back and placing it under her thigh. “He? It? It didn’t look like that when he hit you in his car.”

He shook his head and unrolled his shirt. “He went full-on feral quick. The physical metamorphosis makes the line harder to take down once you locate it.” He exhaled loudly. “I knew you were tough, but damn, Charlotte. You held your own against that thing better than I could have. It took two hounds to subdue him in that cavern.” A faint blush rose on her cheeks, and he pressed on. “If you’d run, he would’ve taken my head. So thank you.”

*

Charlotte untucked herhands from under her legs as their meals were set down, anxious to turn the subject of conversation back onto Alex. “You realize you sound delusional, right?”

Diving into his ribs, he nodded. “That’s the goal.” He zeroed in on his food. “I’d rather be tossed off for that than for being what I am.” With his attention on every bite he ate, he periodically glanced at her plate as she pushed her dry ribs around with her fork. “If you don’t eat that, I will,” he finally warned.

She pushed her plate toward him, plucking one rib for herself. “Are you allowed to tell me all this?”

“Mmm.” He nodded, swallowing. “Technically, no. But my ass is covered under the myths-and-legends clause. And since I’m not revealing any of the post-Hellenic gossip from the hill, I’m in the clear.”

“You aren’t serious,” she huffed, pulling her plate back.

He smirked. “Half-and-half. I’m in the clear with the gods, since most of them still hang out topside once in a while. And even if you did go to the press or online, you’d be dismissed as a nut bar, probably end up getting drug tested in the process. The second biggest risk is one of those crackpot conspiracy Bigfoot hunters getting it in his head that he’s got a lead. But even that’s easily dodged.” Tugging her plate to the middle, he grabbed a rib. “Since pitchfork mobs are outdated, it’s not much of a risk from a safety standpoint.”

“What’s the biggest risk?” she asked, eying her abandoned meal.

He examined a rib carefully. “Since we’re sitting here, it’s a nonissue.”

He reached for another. She swatted his hand away, snatched a rib, licked it, and placed it triumphantly into the pile, mixing them around to claim her meal for herself.

Wow, did she miss this.

The glint in his eyes as he set his fork down in challenge.

The way he pursed his lips while he decided his next move.

Even the way he tucked his hair behind his ears before he made his choice.

Shoving the thought to the back of her mind, she wrinkled her nose as he shrugged and continued to plow through her food, knowing damn well it grossed her out. “Nasty.”

He popped another rib into his mouth. “Hungry.”

Admitting defeat, her appetite still waffling, she switched gears. “So the kibble…”

“Oh, god, no,” he muttered as he took ownership of the plate. “Don’t get me wrong. I appreciate the thought. It probably ties up there with one of the sweetest things anyone’s done for me next to saving me from a feral Pirithous, but dog food is horrendous. It tastes exactly as it smells, and as a hound? That smell travels for miles.” He hesitated, frowning. “Were you leaving it out there for me all month?”

She sat back in her seat and tugged at the hem of her shirt. “Not for the first two weeks,” she replied hastily, suddenly second-guessing the action that had just seemed right at the time.

Sliding the empty plate aside, he tilted his head. “Thanks.”

“It was the cheapest, foulest-smelling stuff I could find.” She looked at his chest where his black shirt hid the tattoo underneath. “Hades marked you, didn’t he?”

“Stamped me with his very own brand, yeah,” he replied, clearing his throat. “So what have you been up to for the past month?”

She blinked. “I still have questions.”

“Questions that can wait,” he countered. “Tell me.”

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