Page 100 of Leashed

“He is fine,” Bo grumbled, tossing the comforter back on the bed and shaking off Dio’s probing hand. His glazed eyes blinked unevenly. “Just a little hungry.”

Ryan led the procession out of the room, Bo using the wall for balance until they hit the kitchen and he held up his broken hand. “Sage? You really shouldn’t be here for this.”

“I really don’t remember asking you,” she shot back, her nerves firing up as she watched the trails of blood drip down the tattoo on his muscled back.

His brows rose as he looked over her disheveled clothes. “I was under the impression you were done fighting me.”

“Just getting started,” she murmured absently, resisting the urge to touch him for fear she would hurt him. More.

When Dio inched between them to run his gloved thumb across the blood, she held back a fraction and fought back the tears burning behind her lids.

“Not good, Bo. Dragon spit,” the god muttered, wrinkling his nose.

She blinked.

Dragon spit.

Of course.

*

Bo fought againstthe hands holding his hind legs still, yelping when his head was yanked back by his collar and the pain in his foot ricocheted deep into his bones.

“Please let me hold the leash. You’re scaring him.”

Sage.

He angled his muzzle toward the voice, the tension in his muscles easing when her soft hands skimmed across his jowls.

“I’m not scaring him,” Dio grunted. “I’m keeping him from ripping my hands off while Ryan gets this foot set. Okay, boy. One more re-break and we can get everything aligned.”

He could feel Sage’s arms wrap around his neck moments before the crack of bone sent another blast of pain through him and he snarled, panting heavily against his broken ribs until everything settled into a single mind-numbing throb.

Opening one eye, he looked up to see Sage hunched over him, her dark eyes glaring at Dio defiantly as she extended her hand, tear tracks staining her cheeks.

“Fine,” the god muttered, passing the leash to her. “But if he takes a bite out of me, I’m laying down the curse to end all curses on your pretty little head.”

Growling, he bared his fangs at Dio before Sage’s thumb tapped his chin.

“They’re just trying to help,” she chastised. “Getting you all fixed up so I can kick your ass with a clear conscience for whatever it was you did to end up in this position.”

Chuffing, he nuzzled her hand, focused on the soothing scent of her skin, and braced himself for the bone alignment.

*

Sage glanced overat Dio, a wave of nausea washing over her as he bit down into a cold hoagie. The god knelt back down to monitor Ryan’s meticulous removal of the dragon spit using a syringe and a serrated blade that went far deeper into Bo’s shoulder than she ever thought a body could handle.

Dragon spit was apparently acidic and smelled like cinnamon.

Who knew.

She would be asking about that once Bo regained consciousness.

“You’re looking a little pale,” the god said, holding his sandwich out to her. “Hungry?”

Shaking her head, she refocused on stroking Bo’s muzzle, grateful he’d finally passed out from the agony she knew he’d been trying to hide from her while his brother worked through the first of two deep punctures.

Ryan finally sat back and exhaled slowly. “Lucky bastard,” he sighed, setting the syringe on the table and hoisting himself to his feet. “Totally localized in the muscle. No leeching into the organs, but it’s likely what gave him enough of a buzz to keep him so, well, animated earlier.”

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